Web Hype
Inglourious Bang Bang
Good afternoon to all HTMLGiant readers–
Let me introduce myself as Brittany Dennison. Blake Butler has kindly offered me the opportunity to do some posting here at HTMLGiant. If you’re interested, you can deduce my likes and dislikes from my tumblr, or by googling “Brittany Dennison” (here is a link in case you aren’t familiar with this process). You can also find me on facebook, but I can just tell you now that my profile is set to private. I can also recommend searching flickr or vimeo for additional clues; I’m not sure there’s anything featuring yours truly on youtube, but if there is, please let me know, as I’m curious. I am in two of these photos.
Blake, to answer your question, I saw Inglourious Basterds just the other week, and my feelings towards the film undulated as much as Brad Pitt’s hold on a Southern drawl. To be fair, I have a lot of mixed feelings towards Tarantino in general; glorification of violence seems like a petty trick and a cowardly way out of true cinematic exploration, but I do recognize that he is a genius storyteller and filmmaker. Part of my repulsion is guilty pleasure that leads to mere guilt (yes they’re vile, but I just can’t stop watching), and part of it is the feeling of inadequacy I feel when I watch his films. I have a novice understanding of film, so many, if not all, of his references allude me. So, I was caught off guard when I found a shocking similarity between a scene in Inglourious Basterds and another film…
Here’s a slightly edited clip of the opening scene in Inglourious Basterds (to those of you who haven’t seen it–don’t worry, it doesn’t give anything away):
In this scene, Hans Landa (played expertly by Christoph Waltz), the film’s infamous “Jew Hunter,” compares the Jews hiding during World War II to rats. Unfortunately I couldn’t find a clip that includes Landa’s description of the “Jewish rats” creeping into unsuspecting hidden places, like underneath the floorboards.
So, consider my surprise when, one week later, I watch this scene from one of my favorite childhood films (it is, after all, “The most fantasmagorical musical entertainment in the history of everything!” as the tagline claims), Chitty Chitty Bang Bang…
For those of you who are unfamiliar with this movie, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang is a magical flying car built by the widowed, poor but genius, Caracatus Potts (played by Dick Van Dyke), for his two raggedy children. The Baron Bomburst, Baron of the faraway land of Vulgaria, kidnaps Caracatus’s father (thinking he’s the real inventor) and orders him to build another fantastic flying car. The Potts family, Chitty herself, and the lovely love-interest of Caracatus, Truly Scrumptious, take off to rescue Grandpa. In the wicked land of Vulgaria, all children are illegal. Parents hide their children in a cave underneath the Baron’s castle, where they either sit in silence, steal food from the castle kitchens, or listen to Dick Van Dyke sing them lullabies. The above clip features the greasy Child Catcher, a man whose sole job is so seek out children with his long nose, capture them, and, well, the movie doesn’t go into what happens after that… Are we starting to notice a similarity? It’s no secret that Chitty Chitty Bang Bang is a psychedelic allegory of a WW I and II hybrid (Vulgaria is a mix of Prussia and Nazi Germany). Taking that into consideration, it’s easy to see the relationship between The Child Catcher and Hans Landa in these scenes; the anthropomorphic descriptions of Jews and children (rats and cockroaches, respectively), the character’s use of sense of smell, the synonyms in their “professional names.”
There’s something quite rewarding in spotting a potential reference; if he really did lift a character from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, I’m proud to have spotted it, and if not, then I’ve noticed a trend in the possibilities of characterizing World War II antagonists. It’s a win win situation, really.
Tags: inglorious basterds
Brittany:
Hello! Welcome on board; glad to have you.
Cool first post. I’ve been meaning to talk more about film on HTMLGiant; thanks for tapping this vein! And, well, damn. The similarities are pretty startling.
I’ll never feel the same about Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.
Brittany:
Hello! Welcome on board; glad to have you.
Cool first post. I’ve been meaning to talk more about film on HTMLGiant; thanks for tapping this vein! And, well, damn. The similarities are pretty startling.
I’ll never feel the same about Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.
Interesting “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang” connection. Zip hasn’t seen that movie since he was a zygote.
And Zip hasn’t seen “Inglorious Basterds” at all but he has heard the very first scene (a “waiting” scene?) is a ripoff of the three men waiting for the harmonica man scene from Sergio Leone’s “Once Upon a Time in the West”.
ZIP KNOWS: LEONE IS EXCELLENT. WATCH LEONE, HE IS BETTER THAN TARANTINO. THEY ARE BOTH THIEVES (LEONE FROM KUROSAWA), BUT LEONE’S THEFTS ARE MORE ARTFUL.
ZIP ZIP ZIP ZIP
Interesting “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang” connection. Zip hasn’t seen that movie since he was a zygote.
And Zip hasn’t seen “Inglorious Basterds” at all but he has heard the very first scene (a “waiting” scene?) is a ripoff of the three men waiting for the harmonica man scene from Sergio Leone’s “Once Upon a Time in the West”.
ZIP KNOWS: LEONE IS EXCELLENT. WATCH LEONE, HE IS BETTER THAN TARANTINO. THEY ARE BOTH THIEVES (LEONE FROM KUROSAWA), BUT LEONE’S THEFTS ARE MORE ARTFUL.
ZIP ZIP ZIP ZIP
Brittany, welcome! This is great. We’re the new kids here, so we’ll probably end up eating lunch together while the other people throw milk cartons at us. Those bastards. Basterds.
Brittany, welcome! This is great. We’re the new kids here, so we’ll probably end up eating lunch together while the other people throw milk cartons at us. Those bastards. Basterds.
fucking chill!
fucking chill!
Brittany seems pretty cool.
Brittany seems pretty cool.
Honestly, the opening of IB has little to do with Once Upon a Time in the West. It is definitely Leone territory, but other than quiet menace, there is no similarity between the scenes.
Honestly, the opening of IB has little to do with Once Upon a Time in the West. It is definitely Leone territory, but other than quiet menace, there is no similarity between the scenes.
Once Upon A Time in the West might be my favorite movie but I agree with Nathan… the IB scene is hardly a rip-off.
Also totally disagree that using similar plots or elements makes you a “thief”
Once Upon A Time in the West might be my favorite movie but I agree with Nathan… the IB scene is hardly a rip-off.
Also totally disagree that using similar plots or elements makes you a “thief”
I mean, if that were the case wouldn’t Kurosawa merely be a “thief” of Shakespeare?
I mean, if that were the case wouldn’t Kurosawa merely be a “thief” of Shakespeare?
Everyone’s a thief. Even Shakespeare. Especially Shakespeare. He stole practically everything banal, and made it glowy.
I really enjoyed Inglorious Basterds–and I love Leone and Kurosawa, so maybe that says something. (I though the Leone touches in Basterds were nice, not too overdone for the most part.) But I think it’s interesting that a lot of people I’ve talked to have mentioned the guilt of enjoying the violence. I felt about that kind of like I felt when people complained about the swearing in the South Park movie: that was the point. That is, with Basterds I feel like you were supposed to feel guilty about enjoying the extreme violence, and yet enjoy the hell out of it anyway. But then again, my parents showed me a Clockwork Orange when I was six, so you probably shouldn’t listen to me about violence. My perspective is sort of skewed.
Everyone’s a thief. Even Shakespeare. Especially Shakespeare. He stole practically everything banal, and made it glowy.
I really enjoyed Inglorious Basterds–and I love Leone and Kurosawa, so maybe that says something. (I though the Leone touches in Basterds were nice, not too overdone for the most part.) But I think it’s interesting that a lot of people I’ve talked to have mentioned the guilt of enjoying the violence. I felt about that kind of like I felt when people complained about the swearing in the South Park movie: that was the point. That is, with Basterds I feel like you were supposed to feel guilty about enjoying the extreme violence, and yet enjoy the hell out of it anyway. But then again, my parents showed me a Clockwork Orange when I was six, so you probably shouldn’t listen to me about violence. My perspective is sort of skewed.
I agree that the guilt associated with the enjoyment of the violence is part of the point. IB is supposed to be ethically ambiguous, I think
I agree that the guilt associated with the enjoyment of the violence is part of the point. IB is supposed to be ethically ambiguous, I think
I enjoy violence in movies with no guilt whatsoever. No matter how good the story, effects, etc, it will only ever approximate. Getting a little adrenaline kick from seeing it played out onscreen is nothing more than good fun. You can get desensitized to movies, but when someone’s getting the shit beat out of them in front of you, you’re going to feel something (unless you are dead inside and no movie probably did that).
Also I don’t think revenge can be ethically ambiguous?
I liked Inglorious because I like Tarantino, but his best work is behind him maybe? It feels like he’s now (since Jackie Brown maybe?) just giving different genres his signature treatment, which is fine because it’s fun to watch, but it’s not great cinema. You probably wouldn’t get away with that shit in writing, would you?
I enjoy violence in movies with no guilt whatsoever. No matter how good the story, effects, etc, it will only ever approximate. Getting a little adrenaline kick from seeing it played out onscreen is nothing more than good fun. You can get desensitized to movies, but when someone’s getting the shit beat out of them in front of you, you’re going to feel something (unless you are dead inside and no movie probably did that).
Also I don’t think revenge can be ethically ambiguous?
I liked Inglorious because I like Tarantino, but his best work is behind him maybe? It feels like he’s now (since Jackie Brown maybe?) just giving different genres his signature treatment, which is fine because it’s fun to watch, but it’s not great cinema. You probably wouldn’t get away with that shit in writing, would you?
Oh, and hi, Brittany. :)
Oh, and hi, Brittany. :)
hi brittany, that’s a sweet-ass hat you have there! it really goes with yr nose – where can i get one?
hi brittany, that’s a sweet-ass hat you have there! it really goes with yr nose – where can i get one?
hi brittany. no offense but no shit.
tarantino has said over and over he is a rip off artist.
there are many french movie references in “basterds”.
i wish people were more educated on film. they might look past the violence and see what he really is doing.
and what is wrong with violence? this is oppressive america and the old addage “sex through violence” still holds true today.
bye.
hi brittany. no offense but no shit.
tarantino has said over and over he is a rip off artist.
there are many french movie references in “basterds”.
i wish people were more educated on film. they might look past the violence and see what he really is doing.
and what is wrong with violence? this is oppressive america and the old addage “sex through violence” still holds true today.
bye.
Thanks to everyone for the warm welcome!
(Hi, Erik Stinson! I hope California is treating you well–)
Jereme–No offense taken. I wholly recognize that there are many movie references in IB, and that heavily referring to movies is a Taratino signature. That’s why I decided to write this post–this specific reference seems odd, even for Taratino, which then opens up the age old debate we find in literature of intentionality. Being disturbed by violence in film is just another reaction I had to the film; the two thoughts aren’t mutually exclusive.
My guilty pleasure in watching IB actually reminded me quite a bit of reading “Lolita.” Nabokov has this great way of getting you to sympathize with a monster, and then suddenly turning your sympathies on you in the end, making you feel bad for sympathizing with someone who is doing “justified crime.” Quite a brilliant maneuver.
Thanks to everyone for the warm welcome!
(Hi, Erik Stinson! I hope California is treating you well–)
Jereme–No offense taken. I wholly recognize that there are many movie references in IB, and that heavily referring to movies is a Taratino signature. That’s why I decided to write this post–this specific reference seems odd, even for Taratino, which then opens up the age old debate we find in literature of intentionality. Being disturbed by violence in film is just another reaction I had to the film; the two thoughts aren’t mutually exclusive.
My guilty pleasure in watching IB actually reminded me quite a bit of reading “Lolita.” Nabokov has this great way of getting you to sympathize with a monster, and then suddenly turning your sympathies on you in the end, making you feel bad for sympathizing with someone who is doing “justified crime.” Quite a brilliant maneuver.
When you see all the nazis celebrating disgustingly during the premiere of the bloody sniper film, and see them gloating over their nations triumph, and immediately juxtapose that with the immensely satisfying slaughter of all the important figures in nazi germany, that’s when you know he’s complicating our fascination with war movies, and after that I think it was his intention to make you feel guilty.
It is great cinema, but something so highly self-referential means (not trying to be snobby, I’m no film buff) you do need to have a robust film background to fully appreciate it and look past the thrills, which are brilliantly articulated on their own. Otherwise, it’d be like reading a book where Francis Ponge deconstructs the french language in his poetry without understanding French.
When you see all the nazis celebrating disgustingly during the premiere of the bloody sniper film, and see them gloating over their nations triumph, and immediately juxtapose that with the immensely satisfying slaughter of all the important figures in nazi germany, that’s when you know he’s complicating our fascination with war movies, and after that I think it was his intention to make you feel guilty.
It is great cinema, but something so highly self-referential means (not trying to be snobby, I’m no film buff) you do need to have a robust film background to fully appreciate it and look past the thrills, which are brilliantly articulated on their own. Otherwise, it’d be like reading a book where Francis Ponge deconstructs the french language in his poetry without understanding French.