Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Neofascist Review of INGLORIOUS BASTERDS by Quentin Tarantino.
So, what’s the big deal about this movie? It’s lavishly and handsomely produced but that can be said about any big-budget Hollywood movie. It has action and violence aplenty, jokes and gore galore, and movie references for those in the know. But why do we need 2 ½ hrs of glitzy trash when 90 minutes would have more than sufficed. (The saving grace of the movie’s length is there won’t be IB part II like there was Kill Bill pt 2.) Would this have garnered much attention if it was about WWI or any other war in which Jews didn’t play a significant part? Probably not. INGLORIOUS BASTERDS has been praised in some corners as a Jewish Revenge Fantasy or even Jewish Porn, but I wonder if this is just a delusional fantasy of our corrupt elites and idiot masses. If kids weaned on videogames, pop music, comic books, and blockbuster movies think Tarantino is the greatest thing since sliced bread, that’s understandable even if depressing. But just how does a ‘cinephile’ community that professes respect and admiration for great masters of cinema convince itself that Tarantino is a film artist to rank with the best? To be fair, there are plenty of detractors, at least since PULP FICTION, which made his fame and reputation as a filmmaker not only to watch but to be rushed into the cinematic hall of fame.
Personally, I belong to the crowd who thinks Tarantino made one good, indeed great, film, his very first, RESERVOIR DOGS. That was a powerful, almost perfect blend of violence, humor, nihilism, morality, clarity, and the absurd. Around the edge of every character and moment protruded another angle, perspective, reality. A sense of unease pervaded throughout the entire film, with opposing emotions gripping the viewer, foiling all possibilities of moral or dramatic resolution. Its cast of characters of varying personalties, loyalties, objectives, intelligence, charisma, and levels of sanity. Though a story of a criminal gang, it was like a hall of mirrors alternately reflecting the angel and devil side of every character. The ‘good guy’ is the undercover cop, but he has to betray the gang, even the member who saves his life. The most pathological character proves to be the most loyal and trustworthy to the gang boss. RESERVOIR DOGS doesn’t just play but wrestles with our emotions. One could tell Tarantino was a pop culture junkie with an encyclopedic knowledge of movies, TV, and music trivia, but there is also the oppressive presence of reality–an awareness of consequences, no matter how imitative the film is of collective pop fantasies . The psychotic character in RESERVOIR DOGS dances to a pop tune while slicing off someone’s ear, and the emotional effect is eerie and unnerving for we simultaneously identity with hipster nihilism and horror-stricken agony. Tim Roth plays the undercover cop with a bullet wound to the gut throughout the movie. The ever-present reminder of pain keeps the movie rooted in stark realism even as it drifts off into playful banter and amusing flashbacks. It was one of the most remarkable debuts in movie history.
So, like everyone else, I eagerly anticipated PULP FICTION. With near unanimous accolades, I was convinced it had to be a masterpiece. Yet it turned out to be one of the most putrid, inane, ridiculous, anti-human, vile, hideous, disgusting, repellent, sick, infantile, moronic, contemptuous, imbecile, and silly garbage ever made. I mean it was bad. Sure, there was some narrative inventiveness, some witty lines, and good performances by Samuel L. Jackson and Bruce Willis. But it was essentially a pointless and mindless. Gone was the moral irony imbedded throughout RESERVOIR DOGS. It was as if Tarantino lost all interest in people and pain and just decided to throw in his lot with the sensibility of the psychotic character in RESERVOIR DOGS. PULP FICTION give us nothing but bucketfuls of laughing violence. One feels no qualms or concern at all the murders, mayhem, and ugliness. Moral sense has been replaced wholly by the hipster code. There is a long sermon at the end by Samuel Jackson, but like so much of black-style rhetoric in pop culture, it’s all style and charisma than substance and truth. PULP FICTION was essentially bullshit manure varnished with gold. A typical scene has hillbillies in a basement buttf—king a big fat ‘nigger’. Soon after, the tables get turned and the big fat ‘nigger’ blows off the balls of the redneck hillbillies with a shotgun. Another scene has a gun go off accidentally, splattering a “nigger’s” brain all over the back window of a car. Whether one likes ‘niggers’ or not, someone’s brain getting splattered all over isn’t funny. But, the ‘nigger brain all over the car’ joke goes on and on.
Violence and gore can be funny if it’s cartoonish and unreal enough but not when it’s served as crude realism. It’s one thing to laugh at Monty Python’s ridiculous parody of Sam Peckinpah movies or the fight between King Arthur and the Black Knight in MONTY PYTHON AND THE HOLY GRAIL. The humor becomes tasteless or psychotic if the violence is realistic. Indeed, Monty Python demonstrated this with a segment in THE MEANING OF LIFE, which has a realistic gory scene where a man’s liver is torn out of his body. The scene dares us to laugh, but we can’t–if indeed we are sane. There is a big difference between Tom & Jerry violence and the kind of violence one finds in movies like PLATOON or DEER HUNTER.
It used to be that realistic violence required some kind of moral or higher aesthetic purpose–most famously in Sam Peckinpah’s THE WILD BUNCH–but no longer. Now, we have realistic blood splattering in the dumbest movies.
Perhaps, the horror movie is one genre which is immune to this rule, but then it isn’t one of my favorite genres, especially the slasher movie, 99% of which are disgustingly gorenographic.
For some reason, many on the White Right seem to love these gory movies as purveying conservative messages, spiritualist neo-paganism–if one identifies with the killer–, Christian salvation–if one identifies with the victims–, or a no-holds barred form of pitiless Social Darwinism where only the strong survive. It is not surprising that some neo-Nazi groups in Germany have held private screenings of SNUFF films. I’ve known some Extreme White Right lunatics who actually think images of dead bodies in concentration camps are a laugh riot and snicker at footage of smoldering war dead–that is unless the victims happen to be ‘Aryan’, in which they get all moralistic, outraged, and ‘spiritual’. The extreme White Rightist and extreme Zionist have one thing in common. They feel almost no sympathy for anyone outside the tribal core. To a Zionist, a single Jew is worth more than a million gentiles, and to Neo-Nazis, a single ‘Aryan’ is worth more than a million Slavs.
Humor can be tasteless but isn’t necessarily immoral nor insane if it plays by the rules of comedy or spoof. The violence in Mel Brooks’ tasteless THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD PT 1 is cartoonish, as when the cavemen laugh when a dinosaur chews on one of their mates. There is something called black humor, which is edgier in transgressing between the barrier of drama and comedy, but this requires a genuinely satirical wit to pull off. Otherwise, it’s just sick shit.
Tarantino has been making one sick shit after another since PULP FICTION. Though I haven’t seen all of JACKIE BROWN, I’ve seen enough to gauge its essence: gratuitous and annoying stupidity throughout. Brigit Fonda, for no reason, pesters Robert De Niro on the parking lot, whereupon De Niro just shoots her dead. We aren’t allowed anything but smug laughter. Later, Jackson gets pissed about De Niro having killed his ‘bitch’, grumbles like a sitcom character, and then shoots De Niro. And so on and on like this. The only possible response for the viewer allowed is stupid laughter or numbness. The violence just doesn’t reverberate or gain meaning except as an excuse to peddle cheap cool, indulge in trash talk, or snicker like a retard. Contrast that with the scene in RESERVOIR DOGS where Tim Roth the undercover cop is shot by a civilian and instinctively fires back. We hardly see the woman’s face and it all happens in a flash, but there’s moral weight to the absurdity.
But what do we feel when we see people get beaten, cut up, or shot to pieces in PULP FICTION, JACKIE BROWN, KILL BILL 1 &2, and INGLORIOUS BASTERDS? Nothing but a numbing Beavis & Butthead ‘haw-haw’ or ‘uhhhh, that’s cool’. Even more pathetic are the educated/sophisticated types who pretend to detect more than fool-cool antics in Tarantino’s movies. How embarrassing for a film community that pontificates about Griffith, Eisenstein, Lang, Kurosawa. Ford, Bresson, Dreyer, Bergman, Hitchcock, and Mizoguchi to speak of Tarantino in the same breath. Many film geek losers are so desperate to be considered hip and cool–as opposed to square and bourgeois–that they’ll gladly embrace inhumanity if it’s clever and badass enough.
But, the conceit isn’t very difficult to understand, and it goes back to the 60s, especially with Susan Sontag’s ‘Notes on Camp’. There used to be an overly stuffy, snobby, elitist, or restrictive hierarchy separating art and entertainment, high culture and low culture, serious concerns and trivial concerns, cutting-edge culture and mainstream culture, an so forth and so on. Great popular filmmakers and musicians were underestimated because they weren’t ‘serious’ enough. Avant-garde looked down on mass culture. The heady days of the 60s challenged many of these assumptions, and the impact was largely positive in the short-term. Andrew Sarris, the film critic at Village Voice, appreciated the vision of Sergio Leone when so many critics dismissed him as a bloody stylistic hack. Sarris even argued that the great masters of Hollywood were indeed superior artists to European and Japanese filmmakers if considered on the power of film language alone. Federico Fellini, who had been built up his reputation as an Art Director in the 50s and early 60s, embarked on something new with 8 ½. He threw caution to the winds and declare his art would henceforth be the free flow of his imagination. He was thinking like more like a psychedelic rock star even before there was such a thing. He didn’t want to be confined in the rut of ‘serious art’. If serious artists and intellectuals loosened up, popular entertainers got increasingly serious. If 50s rock and roll was without pretensions, Bob Dylan changed the rules by fusing rock n roll with high culture sensibility borrowed from serious poets. Also, though rock n roll grew out of certain American musical traditions, it wasn’t historically aware of or consciously concerned with those traditions. It was about the Here and Now. Guys like Elvis Presley used whatever they could get their hands on at the moment–country, pop, blues, rhythm and blues, gospel, etc–and molded it into something to sell the most records. These men were not ignorant of musical heritage, but their main focus was what could be created for young people looking for fun. Dylan had a more intellectual and historical approach to American music. He wasn’t just using whatever was around but rummaging for what had been lost and consciously molding something serious. To an extent, he picked up this sensibility from the folk music movement–whose idea was to discover, record, and preserve the music of little people, obscure people, marginalized people, and bygone people, and save it for posterity. If rock n roll was about here and now, folk music was largely about what-had-been. Ironically, it was also about what-should-be since the concept of the ‘little people’ and ‘forgotten people’ was idealized into the leftist agenda of ‘social justice’.
But Dylan had other traditions to lean on for his serious approach to culture. Despite the image of the semi-literate hobo drifter folkie singing the music of ‘little people’, he was actually an intellectually minded hipster who devoured classical tomes in his spare time. Also, his naturally high Jewish intelligence and voracious personality were bound to make him restless about being pigeonholed as one thing. For many in the mid 60s, Dylan was everything rolled into one. He was pop culture, he was serious culture. He was folk, he was poetry. He was for adults, he was for kids. He was a prophet, he was for profit. He was a spokesman of his generation, he was a clown cynic. He was Jesus, he was Judas. Albums like Highway 61 Revisited and Blonde on Blonde could be enjoyed as raucous rock or dense music labyrinths requiring careful study.
We may well ask if rock would have taken this serious turn without Dylan, but soon, a whole new Zeitgeist developed around rock. Bands like Dave Clark Five which only performed simple dance music faded while the more ‘serious’ rock artists gained ascendancy. Beatles’ RUBBER SOUL was maturer than their earlier works, REVOLVER was consciously arty, and SGT. PEPPER verged on the pompous. The Rolling Stones got densely philosophical on some tracks on BEGGAR’S BANQUET and LET IT BLEED. Moody Blues developed a form of symphonic rock. The Who released TOMMY, a rock opera. Byrds got spacier and spacier. Perhaps the band that took art rock to its furthest limit was Pink Floyd. The career of the Beach Boys is interesting in this context. They came to fame with a wonderful series of pop tunes, but Brian Wilson too wanted to be part of the new Zeitgeist. Problem was the music defined the Beach Boys was limited in its aesthetic and ‘philosophical’ scope. Then, it is hardly surprising that PET SOUNDS is one of the most interesting albums in rock history, as both a great failure and great success. It betrays the limits to which this lush feel-good music can be stylistically and emotionally advanced yet the result is ravishing just the same(not least because of the tension between innocence and ambition). Its cinematic equivalent is probably Jacques Demy’s UMBRELLAS OF CHERBOURG or YOUNG GIRLS OF ROCHEFORT–fusion of musical entertainment and high concept art.
Anyway, just as Sontag later came to regret what came out of the pandora’s box–which she’d helped open–, Dylan boxed himself in from the world and hid out after BLONDE ON BLONDE while rock music grew ever more arty–and then to re-emerge with a simpler contrarian sound after a few years of outlandish experimentation and grandiose mannerisms.
This is a pattern we see again and again with Jews and gentiles in the modern world. The smarter and wilier Jews rebels against the status quo, come up with something new and daring, and then many less intelligent gentiles jump on the bandwagon and imitate and do as the Jew. But, the tireless Jew soon gets tired his new idea or act as it’s been reduced to a mass formula copied and regurgitated by dimwit goyim. When this happens, the Jew either has two options. He or she can come up yet more ‘radical’ or ‘esoteric’ ideas and stay ahead of the game(like Sontag sought to do in the 70s and 80s) OR he or she can turn away from the chaos and complexity and return to the basics or recover the long, los,t and forgotten(like Dylan since the late 60s or Sontag in her final waning years when her obsession was not with the new but the forgotten European writers of the past.)
Anyway, these changes were happening as much in cinema as in music. Just as intellectuals began to take rock music seriously–a serious reevaluation of Jazz had already taken place in the 50s–, there were new ways of looking at movies in the 60s. Perhaps, this didn’t really matter to the masses for whom movies were, well, movies. But, in the critical and creative community, it did matter because it determined what kinds of movies should be remembered and made. Most Tarantino fans may not be cinephiles, BUT the kind of movies Tarantino loves and makes would be inconceivable without the cultural developments that go back to the 60s.
Today, we think of ‘guilty pleasure’ as something like a bad movie we enjoy. Prior to the changes in the 60s, it could just as well refer to a good Hollywood movie. For the serious cinephiles in the 50s and early 60s, Hollywood or mass entertainment movies were for entertainment or diversion, not for serious study or consideration. Though there had already been cultural tremors in the 50s, the changes came into fruition in the 60s.
Today, film culture is very inclusive. To be a serious cinephile means you can–even MUST–like anything from Bresson to Blaxploitation, from Carl Dreyer to Russ Meyer. Some may hail this as a good thing, but some may disagree. It’s one thing to argue that directors working in entertainment genres can be highly original in their reworking of the formula, but it’s quite another to, Zelig-like, switch back and forth from total garbage to great art. This is especially problematic with Tarantino and his diehard fans whose love for cinema is like that of a mother to all her children, even retarded and ugly ones. I can understand such sentiment on the part of a real mother, but I never understood the boundless love for trash that many people in the film community have. Look at the individual critical entries for 10 Best Films of All Time poll in Sight & Sound Magazine, and many of the choices are really beyond the pale. Many critics seem either willfully or stupidly unable to differentiate good entertainment to bad entertainment. It’s one thing to admire the works of the singular Sergio Leone but quite another to go bat-shit crazy over 100s of third-rate spaghetti imitations. Watching KILL BILL was like watching a compendium of the 100 worst moments in Asian cinema.
It’s hard enough to imitate the best, why go out of one’s way to imitate the very worst? There are indeed ‘good bad movies’ but there are far more ‘bad bad movies’ which aren’t worth our memory cells nor shelf space in film archives.
In the 90s, some kid working inside the Swiss Banks purported to have found Holocaust Jewish money that hadn’t been returned to its owners. Though the actual amount turned out to be far less than the hyped news initially suggested, it became part of the myth of the Holocaust Industry. Likewise, INGLORIOUS BASTERDS at times pretends to be a precious film recovered from a long forgotten vault of American and European cinema, but it’s more like something concocted by Geraldo Rivera.
INGLORIOUS BASTEREDS will surely be a delight for movie buffs for whom reality simply means watching and discussing movies and more movies. I’ve seen enough movies to spot some reference in IB. The opening scene is a twist on Sergio Leone’s ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST. I also spotted references to PATTON–Brad Pitt’s speech–, DIRTY DOZEN–training a lunatic squad to blow up Nazi officers–, and some others I forgot. But I’m not a movie geek who’s seen everything and no expert at film-allusion-scrabble-and-trivial-pursuit. I don’t see what is so special about being a movie DJ which is what Tarantino is.
Isn’t it more admirable or nobler to come up with one’s own stuff than mix and match the visions of other people? At least you can dance to DJ-made music. A DJ-made movie only services geeky gawking for the purpose of spot-the-reference game playing. Tarantino should really be a host of a movie trivia game show. Besides, it was a lot more fun and unpretentious when the Zucker brothers did it with AIRPLANE or when Stanley Donen did it with SINGIN’ IN THE RAIN.
Men take charge and create whereas boys only follow and imitate, and Tarantino is a perpetual boy. Akira Kurosawa took ideas from other directors–as all directors do–, but at the end of the day he had his own vision. YOJIMBO may be modeled on the American western and may have taken some ideas from Hammett’s RED HARVEST, but it is stamped with Kurosawa’s powerful originality. Though Sergio Leone’s FISTFUL OF DOLLARS is, in terms of plot, taken scene by scene from YOJIMBO, Leone created a unique and original style.
Other than RESERVOIR DOGS, Tarantino’s films amount to little more than a pastiche of movie trivia crammed inside a stink bomb and then blown up. Worse, Tarantino doesn’t seem to really understand the directors he claims to admire. His brand of fan-worship is superficial. He’s not interested in Godard the intellect but Godard the image. Tarantino picks the lice on top of the head than the thoughts inside it. A celebrity hog, he is obsessed with the trappings of fame, glamour, and notoriety than meaning, depth, or truth. In many ways, he’s the cinematic counterpart to Camille Paglia. Like Tarantino with RESERVOIR DOGS, Paglia legitimately entered the cultural scene with an estimable work, SEXUAL PESONAE. But intoxicated by fame and fortune, she lost it and soon became a caricature of herself. Less a critic and thinker than a celebrity and personality. Both Tarantino and Paglia have Mussolini’s blood running through them. Consider that Il Duce too started out as a genuine intellectual and writer but then morphed into an overblow egomaniac standing behind a cult-of-personality. If anything, INGLORIOUS BASTERDS can be seen as a kind of pop fascism despite its anti-Nazi credentials. (But is it really anti-Nazi?)
Well, if spiritual sanctimony and iconography can shroud the materialist ideology of Marxism, I suppose pop fascism could just as easily serve Jewish-dominated democracy? (After all, the powerful Jews behind the rise of Obama seem to have appropriated some of the key motifs and methods from fascism and employed them to make white people revere their boy-king as the new fuhrer-messiah.)
Tarantino and Paglia are different in this regard from Bob Dylan and Susan Sontag. Whatever their failings or dubiousness, it cannot be said Dylan or Sontag ever gave up thinking seriously about matters of substance whereas the spotlight of celebritydom seems to have transformed Tarantino and Paglia into media whores. They don’t even realize that they’ve become self-parodies, and if they do, probably don’t mind but rather enjoy the self-absorption. In a way, Tarantino and Paglia are demonstrations of what happens when relatively inferior minds get hold of serious art or ideas.
Jewish intelligence is something special, but high intelligence isn’t synonymous with being smart or wise, and I’m afraid Jews miscalculated big time by financing and hyping this movie. Though many Jews seemed to have gotten a hard on from this movie... well, that’s precisely the problem. Do Hollywood Jews have ANY IDEA what they’ve done to the sacred memory of Jewish suffering in WWII? If INGLORIOUS BASTERDS becomes a new template for WWII movies, the entire war will become just a song-and-dance routine–unreal, abstract, trashy, ridiculous, and profane. Jews gained great moral traction as a result of WWII. The world came to see them as helpless victims, saints, martyrs, survivors, noble souls, etc. Much of the sympathy revolved around Jewish victimhood at the hands of the near-invincible cold-as-ice Nazi killer robots. There were also stories of Jewish resistance and heroism, but they were told with solemnity and respect. INGLORIOUS BASTERDS kicks all of that into a rat-infested sewer.
In the movie, Nazis are mostly a bunch of silly clods who can easily be wiped out, and Jews are badass invincible mofos who can ambush, torture, kill, and scalp any number of Nazis. In other words, it’s almost as if Jews have been Nazified and Nazis have been Jewified.
Jews may feel haw-haw jolly good watching Jewish supermen kick Nazi ass, but for audiences around the world INGLORIOUS BASTERDS makes a mockery of the eternal image of the noble spiritual Jew. Instead, we get vile, disgusting, sadistic, and monstrous Jews. The Jews in this movie mock and laugh at their victims like Nazis did with Jews in SCHINDLER’S LIST–or like Ramon’s henchmen in Leone’s FISTFUL OF DOLLARS when the Man with No Name gets roughed up really bad.
Viewers may argue that the Jews are historically and morally justified in feeling murderous rage toward Germans, but such rationalization may not go over so well with many people. If anything, we are likely to feel disgust at most of the Jews in this movie. They seem shallow, childish, insipid, and morally brain-dead. We don’t even sense much in the way of righteous vengeful rage. When the Bear Jew batters a Nazi officer to death, it looks like a sadistic orgy and not much more. David Duke would have us believe that Tarantino and his Jewish backers are simply goading us to hate Nazis or Germans, but the emotional effect is likely to be something quite different. Tarantino could have made his Jewish characters nobler, more dignified, and justified, but he doesn’t. They just seem like fearsome sewer rats of Goebbels’ propaganda out to maim and kill people for the fun of it. It’s as if Nazi crimes were a godsend to these sadistic freaks for the crimes serve as justifications and morally convenient opportunities for vile sadistic Jews to kill and maim as many Germans as possible. They seem psychotic or zombie-like than morally enraged.
Also, Tarantino could have emotionally justified the killing of German prisoners by making them monstrous and inhuman, as Spielberg did in RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK, in which every Nazi was so brutish or odious that we cheered Indiana Jones to kill more and more. But most of the Germans in IB are not particularly evil nor monstrous–other than Hitler and Goebbels, but even they are allowed a touching moment or two; they are also clownish enough to make their evil seem even endearing at times, like Chaplin’s Great Dictator. The most evil character in the movie is an SS officer, but then he is the most interesting and entertaining character in the movie–so much so that he ranks in the ‘love to hate’ category than the ‘hate and hate. Also, he is allowed to live though with a swastika carved into his head. (Brad Pitt’s monologue prior to the carving was surely lifted from Lee Van Cleef’s prior to his cold-blooded murders in THE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE UGLY.)
With such unappetizing, deranged, or downright dull Jewish characters and several engaging Nazi or German characters, IB is more than a simple anti-German or anti-Nazi movie offering a manichean view of history. Indeed, even unpleasant Nazis are presented as more interesting and even admirable–in their own way–than Brad Pitt and his Jewish henchmen thugs. In one scene in the basement, the mental duel between anti-Nazi plotters and a Gestapo agent presents the latter as a dashing, handsome, intelligent, and formidable opponent. And the Nazi regalia and imagery throughout the movie looks dazzling in Pop Art fashion–more cool and impressive than cold and menacing.
A young Nazi military hero(whose exploits have been made into a movie to be screened to Nazi bigwigs) is very like a German Audie Murphy–essentially a fresh-faced kid without guile, possessed of some basic conscience, and hopelessly in love with a blonde French movie theater owner, at whose venue the film commemorating his heroism is to be screened. The theater owner is actually the young Jewess who fled from the SS in the opening scene and hides under a false identity. She is prickly, distant, and cold toward the German hero-soldier who loves her. Even if we understand the reasons for her hostility, she comes across as a deranged character–like Lady Kaeda in Akira Kurosawa’s RAN or the vengeful spirit in Fritz Lang’s KRIEMHILD’S REVENGE. We can sympathize with her motives but not with her soul which has turned psychotic, destructive, and murderous. Especially because of her blond ‘Aryan’ looks, she registers as an ice-queen. Even her being in love with a Negro has more than one meaning. It can be seen as a pro-miscegenationist message or as confirmation of Nazi propaganda that Jews are a bunch of disgusting ‘nigger-lovers’. Or maybe she chose a Negro mate to defile the Nazi ideal of blonde racial purity. She is a Jew who looks ‘Aryan’ and thus destroys the Aryan within her by pressing her lips and body against those of a black thug beast.
Admittedly, there is something odd about a blond Aryan-looking Jewess ‘kissing a nigger’. It’s long been the objective of Jews to marry or have children with blonde ‘Aryans’ while making white gentiles mix with the Negroes. Look at most Jews today and they marry hot blondes or other smart Jews. Most of Hollywood’s pro-miscegenationist propaganda is aimed at unwashed masses of white goyim. It is a mean to pussify the once proud white males–who now imitate rappers if dumb and uneducated OR worship black Jazz and literature if reasonably bright and educated–and to jungle-feverize the vaginas of white women. Yet, the lover of the Negro in the movie is a Jewess, which is a case of ROTFLMAO. This can be read in many ways: as a symbolic and spiritual alliance of two ‘oppressed’ groups OR as a mischievous rebuke to the Jewish community, as if to say, “If you Jews love ‘niggers’ so much, YOU kiss and f— them.”
Also, the pop-culturalization of the Nazis as cool, hip, badass, witty, and charming has finally become mainstream with this film. Of course, there had been funny and entertaining Nazis before–Hogan’s Heroes for instance. Or take the Nazi enemies in Indiana Jones movies. And there have been Nazi motifs and fetishism in the gay community and other subcultures. Even so, Nazi-ness tended to be culturally caricatured as only ONE of the following: ‘funny’, ‘ridiculous’, ‘pure evil’, ‘brutish’, ‘psychotic’, ‘sexy’, ‘radical’, or ‘perverted’. Nazis were one thing or the other than multi-faceted creatures. It’s only with INGLORIOUS BASTERDS that the Nazis take on a whole range of attributes to be found in POPULAR CULTURE. (Of course, there have been SERIOUS films which presented Nazis as something other than caricatures, but our concern is popular cinema.) IB presents caricatures of Nazis, but the Nazis fit into more than one category. We don’t just get stupid funny Nazis or evil crazy Nazis but all sorts of iconic Nazis. If Lt. Aldo Raines and his Jewish soldiers seem something out of TV sitcoms like ‘Welcome Back Carter’–American and stupid–, some of the Nazi characters have a certain sparkle and charm. The only Nazis who come across as crudely simplistic are actual historical figures like Hitler and Goebbels who register as counterparts of Aldo and his cartoonish gang of Jewish henchmen. Perhaps, it’s Tarantino’s sly way of suggesting that Hitler, though a Jew-hater, was essentially a tyrannical Teutonic equivalent of ruthless, vulgar, power-mad, and uncouth Jews–like Weinsteins for example–who run Hollywood as a world empire. In a way, if you read between lines or see between the frames of IB, the movie really feels like a cinephile or film buff rebellion against the Jewish Nazis who run Hollywood.
The story presents an alliance among Americans, British, good French, and Jews against the evil Germans, but the Nazi big wigs in the movie are so Hollywood-ish, so Jewishy in the manner of socially climbing rags-to-riches Hollywood moguls. Indeed, the sight and sound of Hitler and his bigshots guffawing like kings of vulgarity at a movie screening evokes images of Jewish studio bosses who, for all their social pomposity and overreaching, cared for little else but the lowest common denominator. In that sense, one could argue that IB’s Nazi Germans are, to an extent, stand-ins for Hollywood and its cultural hegemony in the world.
And, Aldo Raines could well stand for the simple-mindedness of American ‘neo-imperialist’ thinking–God and Country and “Blow them up” mentality of Colonel Kilgore school–during the Bush yrs. Raines is a fun guy but an unthinking lout. He has less remorse or conscience than even some of the Germans in the movie. He hardly has any personal sense of ‘right and wrong’ beyond what his superiors tell him and order him to do. If he’d been a German, he would have just as mindlessly obeyed the orders of the Wehrmacht’s officers.
If he’s told to go after evil Nazis, he does just that. If told to go after evil Iraqis and WMD, he would have done that too. (In this sense, IB may be a pointed more criticism of the Iraq War than HURT LOCKER or AVATAR.)
Many Europeans in the post-war era felt that German Occupation and military imperialism had been replaced by American Occupation and cultural imperialism. European cinema–especially French cinema–has mounted a valiant if losing battle against the blitzkrieg of Hollywood and Rock/Rap culture. And even though it’s not politically permissible to blurt out in public, much of anti-Americanism has been a kind of anti-Jewishism. After all, Jewish Wall Street controls world finance, Jewish AIPAC controls US foreign policy–especially in relation to the Middle East–, Jewish Hollywood floods the world with its movies, and Jewish-controlled music industry has disseminated rock and rap music all over the world. Over the yrs, Jewish power has become even more brazen, chutzpahstic, aggressive, self-righteous, and overbearing.
So, the big screen image of the goddess of “Jewish vengeance” near the end of the film has at least three meanings. On the most literal and obvious level, it is Jewish rage ravaging the Nazis. But it can also be seen as Jewish-American assault on ALL of Europe, as if to say “since you Europeans let the Holocaust happen, we Hollywood Jews will do everything to destroy your white European ass.” (This Jewish hatred based on the Holocaust can be extended to American whites too. Even though countless white Americans died in WWII to defeat Hitler, many Jews still want to weaken and destroy White America. In a way, Hollywood movies can be seen as form of Jewish Vengeance against all of the white race. Take a movie like FRIED GREEN TOMATOES which says white women should side with gays–Mary Stuart Masterson’s character is quasi-lesbian–and blacks to destroy and even kill the evil white males. It is a Jewish version of BIRTH OF A NATION. Hollywood movies don’t merely try to examine and critique the past but disseminate murderous hatred against whites. One of the most effective ways is by vilifying and attacking white males than all whites. If all whites were attacked by Jews, white men and women would feel united as targets of Jews. Instead, the clever Jews and Jewesses cooked up feminism where white women could earn the status of ‘noble victims’ IF they sided with ‘people-of-color’, gays, and Jews AGAINST the white male. Indeed, when the majority of white women voted for Obama–a product of sex between a vile African communist tribalist and a shameless self-loathing mudshark–, liberal and even neocon Jews across America were giddy with joy. Jews now feel that the backbone unity of white males and white females is broken forever. Educated white females come under the influence of Jewish ideologues who run the colleges. As for lower class white females, they’ve lost respect for their men who have lost hope and pride as their jobs have been shipped overseas, who physically cower before tougher black males, and who are turning to alcohol, meth, and ass tattoos as flights from reality. Majority of white women are now hooked to Oprah and Obama, both of whom are essentially creations of the Jewish media.
Europeans loathe the American White Right perceived to be ultra-religious, anti-rational, ignorant, and militarily aggressive in going anywhere around the world to ‘fight terror’. But, there is also an important difference between the European Left and the American Left. Europe may be more ‘progressive’ than the US, but it is not, for the most part, dominated by Jewish power. Europe is not a puppet of AIPAC Zionism–even though Europeans are too fearful or guilt-ridden about Jews to mount an effective challenge against Zionist Imperialism. Most of all, Europeans know that Hollywood and American Popular Music are not the products of American conservatives but of American Jewish liberals. Some of these movies–Dark Knight, Iron Man, 300, etc–may pander to ‘conservative’ biases, but they are made by liberal Jews to rake in more money with which to buy more political influence and make more movies to take over the world. Seen in this way, IB could be implying that Jews are even bigger Nazis than the Nazis. Hitler wanted to dominate the European continent whereas Jews want to dominate and own the entire world.)
But, there is yet another way to interpret the goddess of “Jewish Vengeance”. It could be seen as carrying the torch for film heritage and art against the idea of film as pure commercialism. Think of all the films that were butchered or lost forever by the neglect of Studios which put profit over all else. So, using reels of films as the weapon to destroy cultural tyranny could be seen as an artistic kamikaze–ghost of Carl Dreyer’s PASSION OF JEANNE D’ARC–against the mindless commercialism of Hollywood. The one burning at the stake takes everyone with her.
In the opening scene, the SS colonel Hans Landa says he can sniff out the Jews because he, unlike other Germans, can think like a Jew. He’s the ultimate subversive, a kind of self-conscious Zelig. He could even be a closet gay, given his anger over the killing of his subordinate in the final scene. If Zelig had no control over his transformations, Landa consciously and brilliantly wants to be anything and everything, depending on where his lust for privilege takes him. In this sense, he’s both the best Nazi and not a Nazi at all. He’s risen up the Nazi ranks because Nazism was the ticket to the biggest show in town, but he could have been just as happy serving the Soviets if that had been his chance at fame and fortune. If necessary, you can even imagine him masquerading as a Jew and rising up in Israeli society. When he finally betrays the Nazis, he seems utterly unperturbed and without remorse. He also speaks perfect Italian. In this sense, the swastika carved into his head is most unfortunate because he’s less a Nazi than the ultimate weasel, the chameleon who could just as well serve the NKVD, SS, OSS, Mossad, or whatever. He would be at home working in Hollywood. He is utterly ruthless with no fixed ideology. For him, Nazism or any -ism is just the latest historical or political fashion to master, manipulate, and use. Power and privilege are his ideology. If Aldo Raines’ Jewish goon squad is like Nazi Jews in their brutal thuggery, Landa is like a Jewish Nazi in his weasel-ish nature.
To mark him with a knife as the Eternal Nazi is to miss the point, but we seem to be experts at just that. In a way, it’s like we’ve come to associate anything evil or bad as “Nazi”. So, Hussein was a Nazi, Iran is the New Nazi state, Bush is a Nazi, Obama is a Nazi, Cheney is a Nazi, Pelosi is a Nazi, Chavez is a Nazi, Hamas are Nazis, and yes, Zionists are Nazis too.
I suppose one could argue that there was an element of cynical opportunism in Nazism, but then it is a quality prevalent in ALL societies and cultures. If we mark ruthless hunger for power as ‘Nazi’, then US is filled with Nazis, many of them Jews on Wall Street and Hollywood. This brings us back to the question... ‘what was Tarantino really up to?’ He too must have had some difficult times dealing with Hollywood Jews. Is Tarantino a cunning character who, like Landa, can think like a Jew? Did he outjew the Jews? Did he actually make an anti-Nazi movie that is subtextually anti-Jewish? If so, how did Jews fall for this? I thought they were supposed to be smart. Maybe, Jews do know what Tarantino is up to but also know that most people are TOO DUMB to pick up on this. If we go by the criticism of the movie by David Duke and white rightards, Jews may well be right.
Even if some of my suspicions are correct, I don’t much care for IB if only because cunning duplicity in art does little for me. Tarantino may have made his most complex, multi-layered, ironic, and self-referential movie yet, but it is not to be confused or compared with the best of Jean-Luc Godard or others. Godard at his best was a poet and a maverick, not a smug smarmy punk. Godard had in spades what Tarantino doesn’t have at all: conviction. IB made be seen as a movie about a movie, but there is little to take away from the movie except film geekish self-flattery. Besides, like that other phony Todd Haynes, Tarantino tries to play it both ways or every which way possible. In the end, he’s feels superior to both the dummies who take his films straight and to the smarties who stroke their precious cleverness for, wink-wink, ‘getting it’. IB is less a Brechtian or Godardian musical than an expensive juvenile prank. Godard, for his all his faults and strangeness–and even lunacy–was deeply concerned, fascinated, and troubled by nature of cinema, the power of movies, and the relations movies have with reality, psychology, and politics as evinced by HISTOIRE DU CINEMA: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mRSQFVFILBI
What attracted Tarantino was Godard’s superficial iconic image as the cool cutting-edge fimmaker of the 60s. Tarantino, like Haynes, imitates Godard’s games but has no real understanding of the rules or consequences. All said and done, what we really sense from Tarantino’s movie is comfort, complacency, self-satisfaction, and privilege.
However one may feel about D. W. Griffith’s BIRTH OF A NATION, Dziga Vertov’s MAN WITH A MOVIE CAMERA, Gillo Pontecorvo’s BATTLE OF ALGIERS, Melvin Van Peebles’ SWEET SWEETBACK’S BADASS SONG, Sam Peckinpah’s BRING ME THE HEAD OF ALDREDO GARCIA, George Romero’s DAWN OF THE DEAD, David Lynch’s MULHOLLAND DR. or Mel Gibon’s PASSION OF THE CHRIST, there is no mistaking that they are movies of real conviction. One can hate these movies but cannot deny that they were made with real vision and courage.
Tarantino is a many-masked weasel with no real artistic face. He is something-for-everyone. The remarks about ‘niggers’ in RESERVOIR DOGS or PULP FICTION will please people who don’t much like Negroes. The black guy kissing a blond woman and other acts of miscegenation in his films will please Negroes and dorky white liberal men who pitifully jack-off to interracial porn. The sight of Jews bashing Nazis will please Jews with a vengeful vendetta. The anti-Jewish subtext will please white nationalists. Film geeks will love the artificiality of it all. Slobs will enjoy his films as popcorn movies. Intellectuals will take pride in being tuned into Tarantino’s below-the-radar signals. And so on.
In truth, Tarantino the con artist is putting all of us on. In RESERVOIR DOGS, a black cop tells Tim Roth that “if you’re not a great actor, you’re a shitty actor”. Tim Roth goes undercover and plays both sides. In IB, the Jewish girl goes ‘undercover’ to take down the Nazis. In PULP FICTION, the two hitmen change into dorky clothes after their car has been splattered with ‘nigger brains’. KILL BILL is a revenge story with character going through various disguises. It’s gotten to a point where Tarantino, like Peter Sellers, no longer seems to know what he really is or stands for. Perhaps being ugly and unpleasant in person, he found a way to hide behind the many masks of cinema and film theory.
Many of us came to cinematic consciousness through the films of Akira Kurosawa, Ingmar Bergman, Robert Bresson, Kenji Mizoguchi, Francois Truffaut, Jean-Luc Godard, etc. All men of genuine conviction. Godard was perhaps the greatest oddball of cinema, but no one can deny his grappling with the world and cinema’s role in it. Godard toyed around, but he was not the shameless opportunist that Tarantino is. If Tim Roth’s troubled conscience in RESERVOIR DOGS infused that film with moral crisis and tension, we find much less that is compelling in Tarantino’s subsequent movies. Something genuinely affecting could have been done with Bruce Willis’s troubled conscience in PULP FICTION, but it degenerated into a kind of film geek/freak/beatnik exercise in putrid I’m-cooler-and-badasser-than-thou excessiveness.
Orson Welles made great films out of pulp material; he transformed muck into miracle whereas Tarantino turns trash into bigger trash. Essentially, IB is a combination of TEAM AMERICA and THE BLACK BOOK(by Paul Verhoeven). TEAM AMERICA is trash that can be enjoyed as trash though I don’t choose to. Paul Verhoeven’s BLACK BOOK is a genuine work of art with layers of meaning and the full spectrum of human drama–love, hate, humor, absurdity, greed, honor, duplicity, etc. IB tries to be both but is actually neither. It has too many drawn-out dramatic moments to work as parody of war movies. It has too many goofy references for it to work on the level of drama. Too much nihilism for moral instruction and too much sentimentality for fratboy antics. What’s ultimately offensive is not so much Tarantino’s cleverness or childishness but the pretension that he has something to say. Tarantino is Landa, Landa is Tarantino. Essentially a nihilistic soulless chameleon who will do and pretend anything to get ahead. He’s the ultimate post-modernist, and this is why his use of WWII is dangerous. Everything becomes removed from its historical source and loses its moral meaning. It all becomes a game of signs, symbols, stereotypes, and cliches. We’ve seen a lot of this as Hollywood has for some time been in the business of recycling old movies and even TV shows, but there is a difference between remaking fiction into junk and remaking history into junk. Of course, all movies are fiction no matter how serious or unserious, whether they are based on true events or merely fantasized. But, there was once a sense that a movie based on TRAGIC EVENTS should have some reverence for the material–or if not, at least drop the pretense of being serious or important art. Hogan’s Heroes isn’t really offensive as it’s too unreal. IB is offensive for its epic pretensions and proportions.
It would be bad enough to make something like the Holocaust Musical, but INGLORIOUS BASTERDS may be even worse. A Holocaust Musical done in Mel Brooks style could still be seen for what it is: a work of horribly bad taste made by a juvenile mind. But, what is a movie about the horrors of WWII that blurs the lines between history and fiction, tragedy and comedy, art and entertainment, seriousness and kidding around? Perhaps a great satirical mind could pull it off, but Tarantino is nothing of the sort. He is rather like Terry Gilliam, another director whose main concern is clever visual gizmos built from the junk heap of movie history.
There is something inhumanly retarded about our culture, and we seem unable to shake it off. In one episode of SOUTH PARK, the Lincoln statue in the Memorial comes to life and then it is shot in the back of the head by a John Wilkes Booth statue. Fans of SOUTH PARK may defend it as funning around, pushing the envelope, or satire, but is it really? Satire of what? Of it’s own stupidity and infantilism? And what is the purpose of pushing the envelope in that manner? Why turn a personal and national tragedy into something for idiot kids to guffaw about? I’m all for free speech, and I fully defend Parker and Stone to make their idiot cartoons, but what’s the point of such garbage? If Parker and Stone really believe that Lincoln was a horrible man and should have been shot, at least that would carry the weight of conviction. Wishing violence out of genuine hatred–justified or not in others’ eyes–is at least based on some feeling or rationale. What we often get in SOUTH PARK or Tarantino films is violence as mindless pranks. If SOUTH PARK’s cartoon-ness at least maintains the unreality of it all, this cannot be said for Tarantino who goes for realistic graphic violence. It’s bad enough to see an historical event turned into a ridiculous circus, but it’s worse when the circus is made to look real. What are to we take from this cleverness but the giggling joy of counter-cleverness of post-modern ‘critical’ thought.
Good art inspires good criticism whereas bad art inspires the worst kind if it has the power to dupe people. Just think of what has happened to the art world since the rise of clever frauds such as Andy Warhol and Roy Lichtenstein. There is no longer any barrier between self-promotion, criticism, and commerce. Indeed, everyone seems to take pride in the fraud and corruption as long as such are flaunted as what art is all about or how everything is art. Or, take what has happened to film criticism since the rise of retards as Todd Haynes and Quentin Tarantino. Where is the opposition to such pretentiousness, crassness, fraudulence, indulgence, and pomposity? The critical community seems only happy to aid and abet this fraud. One reason could be that the critical community is so dominated by hideous liberal and leftist Jews–and their less intelligent and slavish and imitative goy girls and boys(generally second-rate WASP ‘thinkers’ who, as white bread dullards, need to leech off the thoughts of others).
There is also the prevailing PC, which people like Tarantino plays for and against. Liberals and leftists like to consider themselves as free spirits and as anti-establishmentarians, but Political Correctness was their creation. PC rose especially in the late 80s as a kind of McCarthyism of the Left. It has been far more insidious than McCarthyism since pro-PC forces now control far more of the institutions of power than McCarthyites ever did. Liberals and Leftists have used PC to destroy careers, suppress thought, criminalize speech, and etc. They’ve done so in the name of ‘social justice’ and other crap they’ve cooked up. But, the problem is PC has robbed liberals and leftists of their former image as mavericks and free spirits. Liberals have become a bunch of Oleannas. So, Tarantino is a perfect compromise for liberals to have it both ways since he serves up raucous doses of political incorrectness–‘nigger’ words, machismo on steroids, sexual and racial stereotypes, gun fetishism, etc–but within what passes for post-modern self-parody and ultimately ‘progressive’ values. So, even though lots of ‘nigger’ words are heard, Tarantino’s films are very admiring of black coolness and toughness. He also seems to be pro-miscegenationist. In other words, ‘nigger’ isn’t necessarily an insult in the Tarantino-ian universe; it is often a badge of honor. . A ‘nigger’ is what a lame white boy wants to be. Sarah Silverman gets away with the same shit.
Quentin and Sarah function as momentary escape valves for liberals who’ve erected PC walls around themselves–and around us as well.
Whatever happened to the days of Lenny Bruce and Norman Mailer? Didn’t the Left stand for outrage and freedom when the Right was all uptight and square? How does a liberal square his support for the PC police state with the conceit of himself being a free spirit? He supports the PC agenda in real life and then laughs his clever head off at Tarantino movies and Silverman standup comedy routines to show that he’s libertine, hip, and cool.
The utter corruption and self-delusion of the crass liberal yuppie class is getting more and more apparent by the hour. So, Don Imus gets fired and lambasted for ‘nappy headed ho’ remark while Silverman rakes in tens of millions of dollars a year. Liberals push for ever more ‘hate speech’ legislation while Tarantino fills up the screen with laughing inhumanity, murder, and mayhem. In other words, sincere hatred is to be criminalized while inhumanity posing as postmodernist cleverness is to be lauded.
There was a recent squabble in the NY film critic community, mainly between the Angry Negro Armond White and a whole bunch of NY and Hollywood Jews–who, by the way, don’t represent most white people. The movie in question GREENBERG is kosher as anything by Woody Allen. If there is anything ‘white’ about it, it’s only because so many dumb white gentiles have allowed American Jews to define the agenda and intellectual/social/cultural fashions for them.
Anyway, even though White is a crazyass Negro and a truly deranged lunatic, there is some truth to what he said about Jewish power though even a big-ass Negro like him didn’t have the balls to call it by its real name: JEW POWER. He works in NY after all. NY liberal Jews are among the most cunning and devious in the world. NY has undergone what might be called Gentric Cleansing. Money rules and so many poor people–generally non-Jews–have been pushed out. NY liberal Jews preach ‘social jusitce’ while creating a privileged world of their own. Much the same is true of cinema and TVs. So much of it’s Jew, Jew, Jew in terms of characters, themes, values, agendas, biases, and style. A stupid Jewish neurosis is supposed to matter more to us than the stories of Americans spread out across 50 states. Armond White’s nemesis, J. Hoberman, though a knowledgeable and intelligent critic, is also an intellectually corrupt son-of-a-bitch whose preferred template for future cinema is stuff like I’M NOT THERE by Todd Haynes, a film so dull, sterile, and pretentious in its self-referential and self-aggrandizing pseudo-intellectualism that it conveys little more than certain class privilege based on ‘intellectual’ status than substance. It is the favored cultural toy of yuppie liberals who lay all claim to privilege and progressivism. It’s really all about them, their conceits, their delusions, and their narcissism I’M NOT THERE is a spot-the-reference trivia game, a stale parlor room exercise for the products of elite universities who landed plush jobs–either in the private or public sector–in the name of truth and justice. (It is also for lower-status ‘bohemian’ and/or ‘radical’ people who hang around and economically leech off the privileged liberal urban class despite or precisely because of envious resentment and wanna-be contempt. For all their anti-bourgeois mannerisms, the ‘radical’ or ‘bohemian’ types would like nothing more than to enjoy liberal yuppie lifestyles themselves or hang around those ‘beautiful people’. It is a symbiotic relationship because rich yuppie liberals don’t wanna be regarded as square, stuffy, whitebread, and bourgeois. So, rich yuppies patronize the arts & culture of ‘radicals’ and ‘bohemians’ while the ‘radicals’ and ‘bohemians’ cater and pander to the cultural and political pretensions of the liberal yuppie class.)
Obama is the biggest such fraud, a postmodernist president, manufactured by liberal Jews who control the media as a jumble of signifiers–1000 things to a 1000 people. Obama, Haynes, and Tarantino all share one quality: smugness, sense of entitlement, complacency, and the knowledge that the liberal Jewish power elite–in culture, business, or politics–is out to protect, promote, and take care of them. America is essentially a Jewish Empire, which is all the more dangerous since Jews cannot be criticized lest one’s forehead be engraved with the swastika. Jews are often credited when they do good, but when they do bad or dubious things, their abuses are labeled generically as ‘white’. So, the abuses of the Hollywood and intellectual community is said to represent ‘white’ privilege when, in fact, most whites Americans–middle class and working class gentiles–have very little stake in arts, culture, entertainment, media, and academia of this country. This is even truer if one happens to be a conservative white. The only kind of conservatives who’ve gained any leverage in the culture war are Neocons, most of whom happen to be Jewish and agree with liberal Jews on matters such as illegal immigration, Zionism, and Jewish power.
Though Tarantino hasn’t yet made a zombie movie, the zombie is the best metaphor for what his movies are about. First, there is the brain-dead aspect to all his films following RESERVOIR DOGS. By ‘brain-dead’ I don’t necessarily mean lack of wit or cleverness but lack of human emotions and soulfulness. One has to be an emotional zombie to giggle and guffaw through the pornographic hideousness of movies like PULP FICTION or KILL BILL. Or one has to be a repressed Orwellian PC idiot if he needs to suck on a Tarantino film to feel like a free spirit. In this sense, Tarantino’s films are kinda like a drug to PC liberals. Though ever so politically correct in their thoughts and actions in real life, PC liberals find themselves in the cool and badass Leone-Peckinpah-Lenny-Bruce-Blaxploitation land when watching a Tarantino flick. PULP FICTION is to PC white liberals what heroin is to the Travolta character in the movie. It is a kind of fix. It makes them feel liberated, cutting edge, nihilistic, dangerous.
Of course, smug liberals–especially the Jews–have come up with a clever cover or rationalization for their schizophrenia. They’ll tell us and themselves that when they wallow in ‘nigger’ words, violence, hateful emotions, vengeance, mayhem, and so forth in such things as the movies of Tarantino or the comedy acts of Sarah Silverman, they are only slipping into the breezy sandals of giggly irony and gaggly satire than into full-blown boots of bigotry. Generally, Jewish liberals will cook up some brilliant-sounding excuses for their double standards and hypocrisies which will then be parroted by less intelligent pussified, castrated, lobotomized, and metrosexualized white boys. Indeed, it always amuses me that white liberal men, who try so hard to suppress their own toughness and manhood for the sake of sensitivity and progress, are so eager to admire and revere black males for their uncompromised toughness, manhood, sensuality, power, and anger. A pussified white liberal boy is always telling his fellow white brothers that they should line up to be castrated but then goes to stand in line to suck the dick of some badass Negro. In other words, the liberal white believes that real manhood should be the domain only of Negroes. There are probably two reason for this: historical-moral and biological-sensual. Since white liberal boys come under the indoctrination of Jew-controlled media, they’ve been told over and over that white males have committed 99% of evil in the world. Thus, white males come to think in terms of white manhood = evil. Thus, the ONLY way a white guy can be good is to become pussified. But, there is also the fact that blacks have tougher/rougher voices, bigger muscles, longer dicks, more groove and rhythm in music, etc. White males who are ideologically pussified cannot find any pleasure in their own manhood, so they seek pleasure in manhood by worshiping that of the Negro.
Something similar operates between white liberal gentiles and Jews. The Jewish-run media and academia have brainwashed generations of kids that history of Western gentile amounts to little more than ‘racism’ that led to imperialism and the Holocaust. So, white gentiles are afraid to think for themselves since white ideas and values can only lead to evil. So, white males and females have shut their own minds off and depend on the Jews to think for them.
Another way in which Tarantino’s movies are Zombiesque is that they represent a mindless cannibalization of culture. In the film DAWN OF THE DEAD, civilization as a forward moving entity is finished. Mindless/soulless zombies roam the land, devouring the dwindling number of humans still capable of thought and feeling. As for human survivors, they no longer have the opportunity to do anything productive or creative. They can only hope to live or leech off of things produced in the past. So, the protagonists find refuge in an abandoned shopping mall and live off the supplies produced and stocked BEFORE the rise of the zombies. One can debate as to whether Tarantino is a mindless zombie devouring the last remnants of living/healthy culture OR an opportunistic survivor of the cultural calamity living off the riches of the past, but either way, but there is almost nothing new in his movies. It is either a cannibalization or a parasitic leeching off of film heritage and history. It is mindlessly zombiesque in that Tarantino has utterly no discerning taste. Just as a zombie will eat ANY live human being, Tarantino will cannibalize anything put on film–from the highest or the lowest. Cinema becomes in his hands what becomes of food inside the mouth of a glutton who stuffs his mouth with caviar, cookies, lobster tails, ice cream, green beans, french fries, burgers, and filet mignon all at the same time. It is the worst kind of mongrelization or miscegenation of art and culture. And, I’m not sure it’s the oral orifice that Tarantino shoves film heritage into since much of his output has the gay-ass foul odor of shit. Mind you, we are not talking of the great uncompromised and chaotic cinematic visions of John Cassavetes, Lina Wertmuller, or Shohei Imamura, who was an artist of real conviction. Rather, it is essentially the putrid and lame imagination of a dilettante who thinks he’s badass because he loads his nerdy exercises with lots of blood, mayhem, and foul words.
What Tarantino gives us is not true creativity but cleverity. We don’t really sense anything bold, new, inspiring, or exciting. It is just a slick repackaging of what we’ve come to admire, enjoy, or may-have-forgotten-but-for-the-geeky-mondo-trasho-encyclopedic-knowledge-of-Tarantino.
Perhaps, many people feel that this is all inevitable and natural. There is not much new to be done in traditional cinema. Art cinema has become moribund and Hollywood recycles the same stuff over and over. It’s as if we’ve reached the End of History for cinema and cinephilia, so what’s left but to toy with the past in postmodern style? The other option is the AVATAR way–expand the techno-frontiers of cinema. This is all very sad, and I’m certain that Tarantino, Cameron, and Haynes are not great blessings for cinema. Nothing is for certain in arts and culture. Andy Warhol was not inevitable but the creation of the corrupt decadent elite in NY who embraced celebrity and fortune over art and struggle. There is a simple way to reinvigorate cinema and that is returning to or reinvigorating the ideal of poetic personal vision and/or to tell the stories of people, events, and things that are either ignored or turned into simple message movies by the film industry. But of course, that might require genuine originality and real courage, qualities that the film industry doesn’t seem to much care for. Instead, we’ve settled for the Coen Brothers, Tarantino, Haynes, and Cameron.
Films such as MULHOLLAND DR, TIME REGAINED, HURT LOCKER, A.I, AMELIE, and the ELECTION films of Johnny To should remind us that great and wonderful things can still be achieved through film.