November 3, 2015
‘Nobody needs to tell me to boycott Quentin Tarantino’: My NEW Taki’s column
Can’t predict the comments this week, sorry… Most likely some bumpkinry about “I don’t own a TV!” and “Hollywood JOOOOOZ!”
We went back and forth like that for the rest of the film:
“That’s the suitcase from Kiss Me Deadly.”
“That’s the ‘square gag’ from The Flintstones.”
Pulp Fiction’s “innovative” “playing with time”? Er, La Jetée, anyone?
All those narratives coming together at the end? Uh, how’s about every horror omnibus ever, but Dead of Night in particular?
Years later, having married a World War II buff, I was matrimonially obligated to sit through Tarantino’s Inglourious Basterds. Again, Tarantino’s ingenuity was applauded: Imagine! An alternative history in which Hitler is assassinated!
Yes, who would have conceived of such a thing—except, of course, the 35-odd folks who tried to kill the guy in real life, and the untold millions who’ve fantasized about it from around 1935 up until, hey, look: this week even?
So the cops can form a line behind me.