By its climax, it descends into the rather ludicrous in such a far-fetched way that even someone with no basic knowledge of warfare would be aghast at, though it never entertains the farcical.
But I forgive its transgressions as it’s so well put together, the action – no-holds-barred as one would expect from the trailers – is ferocious, and the characters all have their arcs. Most of them aren’t even likeable, which adds to the realism the movie achieves for much of its duration.
And stranger things have happened in war, so our five-member tank crew holding off what seems to be an entire SS division for half a day isn’t that outrageous and insane.
A bombastic scene-setting voice-over braces the audience for a long-haul melodrama of middling attributes.
The poster for this film couldn’t be more ’90s with the leads glaring, almost begging us lot to pay the price of admission. It was Brad Pitt mania so the box-office returns were handsome, just like the movie’s primary stud with his L’Oréal locks that would make David Ginola envious.
Julia Ormond from First Knight (1995) is in it, which was a wee surprise as I thought she was in that solitary film before vanishing like a fart in the wind (sorry, Bob Gunton). Sadly, she is wasted here playing an upper-crust village bicycle who goes through the three brothers like wildfire. And Anthony Hopkins, playing the pops, has another strange accent but that’s his modus operandi.
This is one of those movies that must have been pitched as ‘SWEEPING EPIC’, which it is, with complementary James Horner score, which it has.
I hate the use the term ‘wildly entertaining’ but my vocabulary is rather limited today and I can’t be bothered consulting a thesaurus. This movie is a joy to watch and it’s funny as hell and appears to be intentionally so. Tom Cruise can be very funny and this is peak Cruise having a ball.
My only criticism is its lack of dramatic heft but maybe that’s intentional. I don’t know.
Andrew Dominik is the real deal – Chopper (2000), The Assassinationof Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (2007), and this hidden gem.
This is such an unusual crime thriller with its entirely unexciting shoot-outs and dearth of brash or loud moments. The movie mostly comprises a lot of miserable criminals engaging in very convincing conversations about their jobs; none of this standard mafioso talk. And it’s especially memorable for James Gandolfini losing the plot in one of his last roles. It says a lot about the quality of the actor that Tony Soprano never once popped into my head throughout his scenes.
Despite coming out in 2012, the film exists in a weird Great Recession/2008 United States presidential election bubble, and for a reason. If a clue was ever needed as to the movie’s statement, Pitt’s furious monologue at the end is for you:
‘My friend, Jefferson’s an American saint because he wrote the words, “All men are created equal.” Words he clearly didn’t believe, since he allowed his own children to live in slavery. He was a rich wine snob who was sick of paying taxes to the Brits. So yeah, he wrote some lovely words and aroused the rabble, and they went out and died for those words, while he sat back and drank his wine and fucked his slave girl. This guy [Obama, acceptance speech on the TV] wants to tell me we’re living in a community. Don’t make me laugh. I’m living in America, and in America, you’re on your own. America’s not a country. It’s just a business. Now fucking pay me.’
In the midst of a global pandemic as it grabs peak humanity by the testicles, I sat down to watch 12 Monkeys (1995) again after a decade-long hiatus. And what smashing, thought-provoking, thoroughly enthralling sci-fi it is, a Terry Gilliam movie that isn’t uneven and all over the place, which basically makes it an anomaly. 1995 was kind to movies, and Bruce Willis was at his peak in the year of the Eric Cantona kung-fu kick.
There is a mind-blowing scene in this set on the Western Front during WWI; it is so magnificent that it almost derails the rest of the film. However, the character dynamics and pacing manage to keep it together and build to a stunning denouement, that and the inspired Vertigo (1958) references.
And this is one of the few movies that actually depicts people in ‘mental hospitals’ or ‘institutions’ as actually having meaningful, occasionally profound insights into the peculiarities of the social order.
And seek out its art-farty precursor La Jetée (1962). It’s definitely not shite.
Discussing Once Upon a Time In Hollywood (2019) with a friend after seeing it the other evening, I was reminded that Tarantino’s genre-bending WWII-era masterpiece is now 10 years old this month. Some critics took umbrage at QT’s depiction of a commando unit of Jewish American soldiers as Allied equivalent Otto Skorzenies, but they’re missing the point: Tarantino is more likely including such things for the purpose of annoying his detractors rather than drawing any historical comparisons. He does it because he can.
Regardless of any ethical considerations when it comes to shooting history (and re imagining it), the movie is so witty and sometimes outright hilarious. It’s pure entertainment, and of all the post-Pulp Fiction (1994) Tarantino films, his least indulgent, with no unnecessary scenes stretching out the running time. We can also christen this ‘The Christoph Waltz show’. His Hans Landa is a behemoth, a cunning, sociopathic polyglot five steps ahead of everyone else. He even makes the eating of strudel captivating.
N.B. There is an outrageous ‘Antonio Margheriti’ connection between Basterds and Hollywood, Donnie Donowitz’s alias he adopts for Landa the same moniker as the real-life Spaghetti Western director whom DiCaprio’s Rick Dalton stars for in Hollywood.
Wanderings and ... wonderings. 