I often feel that a new Tarantino films is cause to fill pages with text dissecting and debating his work. Honestly, I care not to venture down that path. While one could certainly find lots to say about his films, and Inglorious Basterds in particular, I seriously don’t think those words matter much at all.
Words only diminish his mastery and I’d just as soon have critics describing an amusement park ride or a haunted house. For this is what Tarantino produces. He is proving to be the master of tension. Here his scenes play like roller coaster, slowly climbing to a zenith before they send your stomach through your throat.
If I fault him for anything it is for not maintaining the high tension throughout the film. The ending simply feels rushed. All the time spent dragging out uncomfortable conversations is gone by the final reel. Furthermore, I am left to wonder why a key moment has a French woman addressing a German audience in English. For a film that had no qualms about the majority of its dialog being subtitled, this one slip up feels unacceptable. Still, I enjoy this film, but please don’t ask me to think about it. I will probably enjoy it less with each passing thought.