Me encantó la última de Quentin Tarantino, Inglourious Basterds, que es una suerte de Kill Bill en el contexto de la Segunda Guerra Mundial. Tarantino había dicho en el pasado: "I want to do movies that deal with America's horrible past with slavery and stuff but do them like spaghetti westerns, not like big issue movies." Esto es básicamente lo que ha hecho en esta película, pero con el nazismo y la Segunda Guerra Mundial de protagonistas.
Dura dos horas y media pero se disfruta entera. Se recrea en los personajes y sus diálogos (impresionante el políglota coronel Landa) y en la violencia extrema y cómica. Santiago Navajas tiene sentimientos encontrados en su reseña para Libertad Digital (contiene spoilers).
Pero lo que quiero destacar es algo que no se me ocurrió mientras veía la película, y que me sorprendió leer en Marginal Revolution: Tyler Cowen considera que Tarantino juega peligrosamente con los ideales y la estética nazi.
Tarantino made his Hong Kong movie, his martial arts movie, and his Blaxpoitation flick but I never expected him to dip into Nazi cinema. He sure loves hearing those Germans talk -- boy are they eloquent -- and fascist chattering takes up most of the movie. There is a veneer of a Jewish revenge plot against the Germans, but most of the movie strikes me as a re-aestheticization of various Nazi ideals, cinematic, linguistic, and otherwise. I'm not suggesting Tarantino literally favors the rule of Hitler, rather he probably got a kick out of getting away with such a swindle, right under the noses of Hollywood and with commercial success to boot. The Jewish assassin squad members hardly seem virtuous (in some ways they're portrayed to fit Nazi stereotypes), whereas the German characters light up the screen and show extreme cleverness. (Hitler by the way is a "crummy Austrian," not up to the more rigorous German ideal.) The sniper "movie within a movie" -- which has Tarantino constructing a Nazi movie for a screening scene -- is a stand-in for the broader enterprise. Throughout one wonders what are the implied references to Israel, such as when the Jewish suicide bombers strap explosives to themselves. There is homage to Riefenstahl, Pabst, Emil Jannings, Nazi "mountain movies" and other unsavory bits. I found viewing this movie a disturbing and negative experience. I've done a lot of work on the history of the state and the arts; if you don't believe me, go away and research Nazi cinema and watch the film again.
Yo me identifico más con el artículo de Jesse Walker en defensa de Tarantino. De entre los ejemplos que Walker cita para ilustrar que la película es claramente anti-nazi, tomo el del final (spoiler):
At the end of the picture, Waltz's SS man switches sides, agreeing not to stop the plot to kill the Nazi leadership in exchange for a comfortable Nantucket home, a Congressional Medal of Honor, and other rewards from the U.S. government. At this point, the doubling process that began with Waltz and Pitt's dual speeches is complete: The most repellant figure in the film—more frightening even than Hitler, who is played here as a simple buffoon—has become an essential part of the fight against the Reich. (Apparently essential, that is. Neither Waltz not Pitt is aware of a parallel plot that would have killed the Nazi leadership anyway.) Pitt's character accepts that the Nazi's help is necessary to win the war, but he won't let him off easy. Waltz gets a swastika on his forehead, same as all the other prisoners the team has released. Grinning like a confident auteur at his expertly carved cross, Pitt says the last eight words in the movie: "I think this just might be my masterpiece."
Maybe you helped defeat an enormously evil enemy, that act seems to say, but you can't erase your own complicity in evil. It will forever be on your head. Each viewer can decide for himself whether this message is meant just for the Nazi writhing on the ground, or if it applies equally to the avengers on the other side—and perhaps to the audience itself.
