An Oedipal Paradox

BACK TO THE FUTURE (1985)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Like "The Wizard of Oz," "Back to the Future" is a pop masterpiece that generations can enjoy again and again. It is enthralling, hugely entertaining, explosively funny and charming as hell. It also contains a rare Oedipal complex for a Spielberg/Zemeckis blockbuster and a final coda that still remains somewhat unsatisfying in retrospect, just like "Oz."

But first on to the specifics. "Back to the Future" stars Michael J. Fox as Marty McFly, the aspiring teenager who would rather kiss his girlfriend and play in his rock n' roll band than attend school on time. He lives in a small town named Hill Valley where the main concern has to do with rebuilding a clock tower! His parents are nothing to write home about. Marty's father, George (Crispin Glover), is a nerd who wears oil-slicked hair and laughs in a manner that would drive anyone mad. Marty's mother, Lorraine (Lea Thompson), is a drunk who looks haggard and wasted - she looks like a former beauty who was ravaged by life. Then there is Marty's brother (Marc McClure) who works at a fast-food restaurant, and his heavy-set sister (the late Wendie Jo Sperber) who can't meet anyone special, or is not allowed to at least. Apparently, Marty's parents met by sheer luck as Lorraine's father hit George with his car while George was spying on the goods. Dad's boss, Biff (Thomas F. Wilson), picks on him and Marty, and doesn't spare a moment to remind Marty to tell his mother, Lorraine, he said hello. There is no happiness in this household.

But the movie picks up tremendous pace as Marty's pal, Doc Brown (Christopher Lloyd), a crazed inventor with electrified white hair, calls him to show his latest discovery, a time-travelling DeLorean! It can go from 0 to 88 miles per hour in a flash but 88 is the magic number as it transports one through time at that speed. Marty is astounded as he records all this on his video camera until the Lybians show up and kill Doc for making a nuclear bomb out of pinball machine parts! Marty runs and heads off into the DeLorean and mistakenly goes back to the year 1955! Yes, good old 1955 where he meets his parents when they were high-school teenagers!

"Back to the Future" is a movie I watched religiously, especially in theaters where I saw it four times. What is more amazing is how much teen movies have changed since. Marty's preoccupation in this movie is to get his parents to date each other and attend a dance where they kiss so he can be born in the future! I have a sick feeling in my heart that if this movie were made today, Marty would be more concerned about having sex and discussing it with his parents than anything else. But I digress. This is not so much a teen movie as it is about teenage life in the 80's in contrast to the 50's. Teen dating, values, morals change with each passing generation but certain systems, like family, remain the same. And Marty knows that all too well, trying to preserve his own family so he and his siblings can exist.

The details are what count in "Back to the Future." As all fans of the film know, the Twin Pines Mall of 1985 becomes, through Marty's intervention, Lone Pine Mall in the alternate 1985. Marty's dietary concerns in 1985 consist of pepsi-free soda whereas in 1955, you can get a cup of black coffee for 5 cents and coca-cola comes in glass bottles. The local theater of 1985 shows a porno film whereas in 1955, you get to see a Ronald Reagan flick. Essentially, the Hill Valley of 1955 is in pristine condition and the high school, as Marty wisecracks at one point, looks brand new. It is a time when one had to earn a date, particularly to go to a dance, and skateboards and rock and roll were still nonexistent. Marty McFly changes all that - he changes the future for all resulting in an alternate timeline.

"Back to the Future" mixes laughs, tension, action and drama in equal doses, always surprising us and keeping us in wonder every step of the way. We never know what to expect next, and the thrills and comedy keep coming at us from one scene to the next. Director Robert Zemeckis knows how to channel all the ingredients carefully (he co-wrote the script with Bob Gale) and maintain the right flow and rhythm. No scene or moment is wasted. Even a terrifically human moment, that could seem like a throwaway, where Marty teaches the young George about setting his mind on accomplishing anything, which includes socking the bully Biff, has a tenderness that shows the right balance of heart and humor. In fact, looking at the film in a more analytical approach, it really is about Marty and his relationship to his parents. Zemeckis and Gale maintain that interest throughout, including Marty's own relationship to Doc Brown whose 1955 counterpart is doing his best to get the young lad safe and sound in good old 1985.

And yet, the ending still vexes me. I suppose it is a flaw that the Zemeckis-Gale team did not see foresee but it is there. When Marty returns to 1985, it is an alternate existence where his father is a successful science-fiction novelist, his mother does not drink and plays tennis, his brother works at some firm as does his sister, yet his girlfriend remains the same (I still think there was a missed opportunity there if the girl had been someone else entirely). Marty loves his new life, and make no mistake, it is a new one where he takes pride on his new truck and loves his parents for having changed from their original existence. And that is just it. What about the parents Marty had? Yes, one was a slob and the other a drunk, but should he not love them the same way regardless? Those people will never exist...so is Marty still the same? One wonders when he arrives a bit earlier in 1985 to try to prevent Doc Brown from getting shot. Okay, he sees himself going back to 1955, and so who is that Marty? The same or different? Just wondering but I feel his love for his parents of the other 1985 should have been richer and more loving than accepting essentially new people as his parents. It is like the ending of "Wizard of Oz," an ending that has always bugged me as well, where Dorothy returns to the dour, sepia-toned Kansas in extreme delight uttering the famous lines, "There is no place like home." Really? As compared to the marvelous sights of the city of Oz?

But that is a minor quibble really. There is too much to love in this movie. Every scene and every line of dialogue is memorable. Marty's discovery that he really is in 1955 and wakes up in his mother's bedroom is hilarious. The moment where he watches an old "Honeymooner's" episode that he recalls seeing in 1985 and telling Lorraine's family in 1955 that it is a rerun is priceless. Marty persuading Doc Brown of 1955 that he is from the future and that the future President is Ronald Reagan, the actor, is sidesplittingly funny! There is also the tense moment where Marty starts to disappear as he plays in Marvin Berry's band waiting for his parents to kiss so he can exist. Who can forget Marty pretending to be Darth Vader from the planet Vulcan and playing a Van Halen tape! But the Oedipal moment, an unforgettable scene in all of sci-fi and fantasy, is when Marty is forced to kiss his mother of 1955 and she says, "It felt like I was kissing my brother." It is a moment to stop time yet it is handled delicately and with polish by Zemeckis and Gale. As far as I am concerned, it is the highlight of the "Back to the Future" movies.

"Back to the Future" is fantastic entertainment from beginning to end. It brings smiles, has a great sense of fun, has lots of great , fully realized ideas and excellent performances (including small yet equally memorable bits by Claudia Wells as Marty's supportive girlfriend and J.J. Cohen as one of Biff's bullies ("Check out this guy's life preserver"), and milks its time travel premise for all its worth. It is a definite classic for many years and generations to come, but that ending might still leave you reeling.

"The only band that ever mattered"

COLOR ME OBSESSED (2011)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Thanks to my rocking and rolling wife, I have listened to the Replacements. My fave song of theirs is possibly "White and Lazy," but do not color me a fan just yet (I have listened to only one full album). I do like their spare, frenetic style that is at once an affront to the mainstream and yet embraces it at the same time. It is almost as if they dare to enter the cold, sterile world they so seemingly hate. I think that encapsulates the Ramones as well, one of the major influences on the Replacements. Watching this daring new documentary "Color Me Obsessed" reminds me of the adulation, the criticism and the influence a band can have on a generation raised with, in the case of the greedy, baby-boomers of the 1980's, Reaganomics.

The forming of the Minneapolis-based Replacements began in 1979 (thyey were first known as Dogbreath) by drummer Chris Mars and brothers Bob and Tommy Stinson. The Replacements were soon joined by lyricist Paul Westerberg, a local janitor who overheard the group practicing day after day while hiding in a bush. Songs that cut deep ranged from "Unsatisfied", "Answering Machine", "Can’t Hardly Wait" to endless cover songs (and the ultimate punk thing to do - to daringly call an album of theirs "Let it Be"). The Replacements played a vast number of live shows and a finite number of them resulted in fights and drunkeness. The band members prided themselves on outrageousness, both in their look and their on-stage behavior. Bob Stinson wore a tutu, played guitar in a garbage can and wore diapers. If a show was never truly unruly and unpredictable (as was the case with a Trenton, NJ show), then the fans were disappointed. Same with their albums - the Replacements' last few albums were too professionally produced, lacking the chaotic, garage sound of their early work. One fan, David Minehan of the Neighborhoods, says he is a fan of bands who produce sell-out albums. To each their own.

The multitude of the criticisms in this documentary come from the fans who are given ample time to supply their opinions on the band's musical highs and lows. Robert Voedisch, a farm boy who religiously listened to the Mats' "Pleased to Meet Me," is my favorite subject in the movie. He talks about how nobody in his school ever heard of the band except for his teacher. Robert also discusses how the band is part of his DNA and is unsure if he really loves the band or not.

We also hear from New York Times' media columnist David Carr, actor George Wendt ("Cheers"), Tommy Ramone (who produced the 'Mats "Tim" album), and other bands such as Babes in Toyland, Gaslight Anthem, among others who have been deeply inspired by the 'Mats. Some may not realize that Chicago film critic Michael Philips is also a huge fan, a fact omitted from this film. We also get a list of grades that Village Voice pop critic Robert Christgau gave each Replacements album (he never graded their last album).

"Color Me Obsessed" is that unique rarity - a fan-based documentary without one stitch of music or photos of the band itself. At first, I was baffled by the purposeful choice of director Gorman Berchard to omit the music completely. I have heard some of the Replacements' music but the uninitiated may have no idea what the fans are talking about (not even a couple of lyrics are sung or uttered, hence we lose whatever poetry exists in Paul Westerberg's writing). I respect the sound and brave choice Berchard made and there are enough colorful interviews in here (including a brief bit by The Fleshtones' own singer, Peter Zaremba) to make up for it. Still, I would have been pleased to hear from the 'Mats themselves.

One, two, Freddy 1, Freddy Redo

A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET (2010)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

 Horror remakes have so dominated our movie theaters that it is almost unheard of to imagine a new idea by a new director. 1984's "Nightmare on Elm Street" was a sensational, inventive horror film that introduced the world to the hideous burn victim with a red and green sweater, Freddy Krueger. The original film was not perfect - the ending was muted and stiff - but it is a classic in the genre, spawning several sequels and a postmodernist redux by the original film's director, Wes Craven, called "New Nightmare." Now we get the inevitable remake of the 1984 film and the big surprise is that it isn't half-bad and develops a far more sinister tone. It doesn't eclipse the original, not by a long shot, but it ain't an embarrassment either.

After witnessing a teenager kill himself in a cafe, we have a pretty teen girl, Kris (Katie Cassidy), who was the kid's girlfriend and is in mourning. She sees a vision of herself as a young child with razor-like tears on her dress at her boyfriend's funeral (she falls asleep briefly). Kris knows something is rotten in the Elm Street world when she discovers an old preschool picture that shows her and her high-school friends - the twist is she didn't know them then, or did she? There is also the demure, sullen Nancy (Rooney Mara), who works as a waitress and can't sleep. Her friend, Quentin (Kyle Gallner), also has trouble sleeping and is practically a walking zombie who takes medication to keep him alert (and has a propensity for adrenaline needles). It is saying something in 2010 when the teens are more insular and pill-popping than the teens in 1984 - these kids do not party and have no fun. They simply worry about the demonic killer of their dreams, Fred Krueger (Jackie Earle Haley). At least in the original, the kids had sex and thought about something besides talon-gloved child murderers.

This Elm Street film has got one chip that falls into place beautifully, Jackie Earle Haley. He looks like a burn victim and has some token one-liners (including stealing Englund's show-stopping one-liner from "Elm Street 4" - "How's this for a wet dream?") but he is also scary and disgusting to look at (and so was Englund in the original film, which left him often shrouded in deep shadows). One truly nice touch is when Quentin has a nightmare about Freddy where Freddy makes himself the innocent victim of crimes he didn't commit. It is the wittiest idea in the entire film.

The teens are not memorable, though, and the actors do try their best. Rooney Mara as Nancy comes off best, though she pales (literally) in comparison to Heather Langenkamp in the original (Rooney went on to play Lisbeth in "The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo" remake). Kyle Gallner looks like he is in a deep sleep even when he is awake (or maybe he realized he could adopt a Robert Pattinson dreaminess). These teenagers look like emaciated zombies with stylish clothing living in a very subterranean Elm Street world. It looks like a dream world in a dream world, and I am not sure that is the best visual approach. One of the pleasures of the original was that it showed a sunlit, almost picturesque suburbia where evil could intrude.

There are some scares, some moments that will make one jumpy, and almost no real humor in "A Nightmare on Elm Street." The humor could've been mined in such a way as to make us feel uneasy without the complete focus on dread. For some reason, today's filmmakers feel that horror films have to be deadly serious minus grisly humor. I admire the fact that the movie is not chock full of blood-splattered murders and Jackie Earle Haley does a competent job as Freddy - he holds the movie together and leaves a lasting impression. As directed by debuting director, Samuel Bayer, it is just a well-made shocker that could've used more imagination and, yes, a little bit more humor.

The Boogeyman is going to get yah!

THE BOOGEYMAN (1980)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

For the first half-hour, "The Boogey Man" works up a bit of a sweat. The atmosphere gives one goosebumps (helped by the melodic and screeching musical score) and the placid setting and locations give one the illusion of a hypnotic supernatural horror flick. But after that half-hour, things go bump in the screenplay and lead us into the less-than-subversive world of slasher pictures.

Right from the start, one is reminded of John Carpenter's "Halloween." A picturesque suburban house at night shows two kids out on the porch. They are looking at their mother flirting with some anonymous boyfriend who wears a stocking on his head. The boyfriend is, however, a cruel and sadistic man who ties up the young male child, Willy, while his sister, Lacey, looks on. The mother seemingly approves the boyfriend's behavior but, well in another nod to "Halloween," Willy picks up a butcher knife after being freed by Lacey and stabs the mother's boyfriend to death.

Twenty years later, trauma infects Lacey (Suzanna Love), who is now married with kids and living on a farm. Her stoic brother, Willy (Nicholas Love, Suzanna's real-life brother), doesn't speak and also lives at the farm. Lacey is asked by her husband to confront her traumatic memories that are giving her bad nightmares. And the impotent Willy is having problems of his own, especially when he nearly strangles an ingenue who comes on to him.

The movie begins intriguingly enough and I had faith when I saw sublime John Carradine as a psychiatrist. I had more faith in the almost heavenly and softly lit scenes by cinematographer Jochen Breitenstein. But then the director Ulli Lommel ("The Devonsville Terror") opts for a couple of gratuitous slasher scenes that appear to have creeped in from another movie. Apparently, the killer boyfriend's soul has escaped when Lacey thinks she sees him in a mirror and smashes it. So we have the odd point-of-view shots of shards of mirror glass that shine brightly when new human prey is nearby and, in the soundtrack, we hear the killer's heavy breathing. And then we get a couple of possession scenes that scream laughter, not scares. My question is: why does this killer boyfriend attack young women and men engaged in sexual activity or in various states of undress? Would it not have been more effective if the soul escaped and moved from mirror to mirror to get to Lacey? And why is he interested in Lacey? Would he not be seeking revenge on Willy? And how come young Willy was never arrested for his crime or placed in an institution (Michael Myers was).

I will say that director Ulli Lommel was ambitious enough to attempt his own "Halloween" tropes in the service of a sensitive character study. For a while, it works and holds our interest. Unfortunately, the premise is squandered severely by a few stabbings of anonymous characters, some hollering and screaming fits, truncated transitions, and not a whole lot else. A noble yet schizophrenic attempt. Boo!

Shoestring Bram Stoker porn

DRACULA (THE DIRTY OLD MAN) (1969)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

If you ever wondered what Dracula might be up to if he lived in a cave outside of Los Angeles, then "Dracula The Dirty Old Man" might serve as a convenient answer. Shot on the single half of a shoestring budget, this soft-core porn flick (pardon, I meant a skinflick) is so crummy and vile that not much enjoyment can be derived from it.

Count Dracula (Vince Kelly) is named Count Alucard (the name given to Lon Chaney Jr.'s Count back in "Son of Dracula" from 1943), and he lives in his coffin in a cave out in the desert with two torches on each side of the coffin. It ain't Carfax Abbey but it will do. Why he chooses not to mix in with the L.A. crowd is one of several thousand questions that pop up in this movie. For whatever reason, the Count visits suburban homes, standing outside womens' bedrooms, looking for nubile women who might look good naked. But he needs help and receives it from a local reporter (Billy Whitton) who looks like an insurance salesman. Good old Count changes him into a werewolf and calls him Irving Jackelmann. The Count sends Jackelmann off looking for women for the Count to sink his teeth into, specifically in the breast.

The movie begins with the most absurd narration this side of the Ed Wood, Jr. fence, with some nonsense about one blue mountain and then another, and another. I did not realize until the end of this 67-minute atrocity that it is the reporter's narration, not the Count (the voices seem have to be done by the same actor). None of the clearly post-dubbed lines of dialogue match anything the characters say (apparently the recorded sound was so horrendous, it needed to be redubbed). So the filmmakers change the whole tone into a comedy (though the appearance of the Count is so ludicrous, it could only pass for comedy). Unfortunately, the movie has several sex scenes and one with the Jackelmann that is so disturbing and drags on for far too long (let's say it is narcoleptic) that it uses humor to make us forget the vile act itself (it doesn't work). And watching Dracula lick his lips with eye-rolling delight becomes tedious.

"Dracula the Dirty Old Man" had been rescued from obscurity by the Something Weird video label. If it had not been for them, the movie would have been forgotten and placed in a trash disposal somewhere. As it stands, there are worse skinflicks and you might get a couple of chuckles out of it but there is superior fare that needs to be rescued from obscurity.

Footnote: according to imdb, this 1969 flick is listed as the last credit for the film director and cast.

When in Rome with Roman...

WHAT? aka DIARY OF FORBIDDEN DREAMS aka CHE? (1972)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Some have described Roman Polanski's least popular film "What?" as a sensual reworking of "Alice in Wonderland." Others have called it a soft-core porno film or a "hippie" film. What makes Polanski's film special is that it defies description altogether, and it fits into Polanski's themes of protagonists stuck in a world as deranged and as lunatic as they are.

Sydne Rome is the Girl, a hippie hitchhiking through Italy. At the start of the film, she is practically raped by three guys and manages to escape to the nearest gorgeous villa. She arrives inside the villa, is given a room for free, and is mostly harrassed and defiled by a former pimp (Marcello Mastroianni). The pimp may be a homosexual and gets turned on when he dresses like a tiger and is whipped. This classy guy crushes golfballs with his feet, hates silence, and uses and abuses the Girl at every opportunity. This Girl is one unlucky chick. Her clothes are stolen by Mosquito (Roman Polanski), a drifter or some kind of bizarre character who lives with other misfits above her bedroom - he and his buddies spend their day having sex and playing ping-pong. Another character lives in one room whose only preoccupation is to play Mozart on the piano. Two women are always seen wearing hats and little else. Another man groans in his bedroom each time the Girl passes by. To perhaps remind herself she is not dreaming all this, the Girl writes absurd entries in her diary, which is under her arm at all times."What?" is certainly an appropriate title for this nondescript film.

"What?" is a black comedy with the distinctive silences and long takes that marked Polanski's brilliant "Cul-De-Sac." "What?" is not as ingratiating as "Cul-De-Sac," but it is as inspiring and as surreal as most of Roman's other works. It is almost classifiable as soft-porno, but it pokes fun at the genre, refusing to allow the lead actress Rome to indulge in much sex at all. Of course, through most of the film, she walks around nude, and even sits nude at the breakfast table. "Get out of here while you can from all this decadence," warns one character to Rome. She could have left at anytime if she were able to get some clothes on and hitch a ride back to civilization.

Every character treats Rome as a sexual object of desire, something to be enamored of because of her figure and her bubbly personality. Still, she allows herself to succumb to the pimp's desires, or the millionaire (Hugh Griffith) who asks her to remove her panties. Even the pianist sleeps on her crotch while she is asleep and, when awaken, is shocked that she feels violated. It is questionable if Rome's character loves the pimp, but he has perhaps made her feel whole again. There is no doubt that she has been changed by her experiences at the mansion.

"What?" was shown uncut in Europe and abroad, but was given the ax in a truncated version called "Diary of Forbidden Dreams" (cut from a 112 minute length to 94 minutes). I have never seen that version but I suspect American distributors had no idea what they had. "What?" never quite falls into any feasible category, and it is in fact too wild and exaggerated for mainstream tastes. But its surreal sexual situations and voyeuristic tension invariably hit home (and perhaps led to one of Polanski's later masterpieces such as "Bitter Moon"). Comical and sensual, often mesmerizing yet off-putting at times, "What?" is clearly one of the strangest film experiences I have ever had, and it bears Polanski's visual stamp all the way.

The cruel and cruelly funny Basterds

INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS (2009)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

For the most absurd and powerful revisionist war movie in eons, you can't get any better than "Inglourious Basterds," the loopiest and most entertaining Tarantino flick since his "Kill Bill" series. To call it only riveting and exciting is to underrate it - it is a movie largely about movies. It is about dazzling the audience and thrilling them to no end with one galvanizing moment of intensity after another. It is so damn enthralling and exasperating an experience, so blackly funny and so blood-chillingly and brazenly violent with such top-notch performances that I am almost ready to say it rivals "Pulp Fiction." In fact, it does.

The Basterds are comprised of some Army soldiers during World War II whose job is to hunt and kill Nazis. The way to prove you killed a Nazi is to scalp them, and if you find a Nazi and let them go, you carve their foreheads with the forbidden swastika - a Scarlet Letter of shame. Tennessee-born Lt. Aldo Raine (Brad Pitt) is the leader of the pack of Basterds. One member of the Basterds includes a nearly psychotic baseball bat-wielding Donny Donowitz, known as "The Bear Jew" (Eli Roth, surprisingly charismatic). The rest are the archetypes of most 20th century WWII movies including a startlingly beautiful French Jew, Shosanna Dreyfuss (Melanie Laurent), who owns a Parisian cinema where she is forced to show German propaganda films; a British film critic and expert on German cinema no less, Lt. Archie Hicox (Michael Fassebender), who is also a spy; and a glorious German movie starlet, Bridget von Hammersmark (Diane Kruger), also a spy.

The plot involves the Basterds' ultimate mission: to kill Hitler, Goebbels and the whole Third Reich in the very movie theatre owned by Shosanna by setting fire to a few dozen nitrate movie reels. If this mission, known as Operation Kino, succeeds then World War II is over. Yes, I know, we never heard such nonsense when we learned about World War II in school but Tarantino isn't so much making a historical film about war - he is brave enough to rewrite it to fit his own universe. Back to the mission: a certain dashing, charming, suave and cunning Nazi may serve as an obstruction to the Basterds' plans. He is Hans Landa (the amazing Christoph Waltz), who has a calm demeanor and is extraordinarily intelligent in obtaining information. He can find a Jewish family hiding out in the French countryside, ascertain the proprietor of a high heeled shoe in the aftermath of a massacre, and can speak English, German and Italian with ease. He is the most delectably frightening villain in all of Tarantino's ouevre - an officer who can make anyone quiver and spill the truth without the need of a lie detector test. Can the Basterds stop this nasty Nazi and finish the war with Jewish-American suicide bombers and dozens of nitrate film reels?

"Inglourious Basterds" is the work of a master director who combines and mixes his love of all war movies into a socko and comical epic punch of a movie. As I stressed before, he is not making a traditional war movie nor is he making a serious treatise on war - he is making a war movie about war movies. But even more interestingly, he adds touches of humanity even in the face of such homage - the movie is in quotes and full of irony but there is something deeper here that touches on war in a way that perhaps war movies have not touched upon, post-"Saving Private Ryan." For example, there is the Sergio Leone opening (complete with a score that is reminiscent of Leone's spaghetti westerns) with the dairy farmer harboring Jews underneath the floorboards of his home. Landa pays a visit and eventually discovers that there are Jews hidden under the kitchen. When the dairy farmer tries to fight back tears, knowing that he had to give away their presence (and Landa knows it too), it becomes unbearably tense and it is tinged with regret - this war makes everyone quiver and shake in their boots. Also consider the Bear Jew who beats a Nazi to death with a baseball bat - the other Nazis have surrendered and see this horrific display of brutality with tears in their eyes. Such scenes show that Quentin Tarantino may be a demonic hell-raiser of a filmmaker, but he is also in touch with the humanity in horror from both the good guys and the bad.

And then there is the French tavern sequence which rivals even Hitchcock for building suspense and tension. It is so uniquely unsettling this sequence that I would say it is among the greatest suspense sequences of all time. I won't give much away except that it involves a German actress, a few drinks, a name-guessing game and some spies masquerading as Nazis. It is all in the telling details (like how a German is supposed to order a drink) that give away the spies' true identities. "Reservoir Dogs" also dealt with identity but, here, it is almost phantasmagoric in its unnerving atmosphere and tension.

But there is so much more to enjoy. I would give a laundry list of fantastic, tantalizing scenes but there is one that is etched in my memory. The vision of Shosanna Dreyfus in her precious movie theatre where her projected laugh on the silver screen in the face of Nazi deaths will linger (not to mention an aural accompaniment preceding the climax with David Bowie singing the musical theme from "Cat People") is haunting and poetic, more so than anything else I can recall from Tarantino. It is as if Tarantino was recalling the imagery of Fritz Lang's own striking noir tales, or even aping to some degree the climax of Lang's own "Metropolis."

And there is the cast, which is as wonderful an ensemble as one can imagine. Brad Pitt does his Southern twang perfectly, and most notable is the memorable scene where he rounds up the troops and explains what he expects from them. I would not count this as his best role (that honor would go to "Fight Club") but it is a colorful, hilarious role for the Pitt Man (tell me you simultaneously won't laugh and cringe when he pretends to be an Italian at a German movie premiere). Also worth mentioning is Eli Roth who is suitably effective and mean enough as the notorious Bear Jew; the almost unrecognizable Mike Myers as a British officer; Rod Taylor who came out of retirement to play Winston Churchill; Daniel Brohl (who really seems to come out of that 40's era) as Frederick Zoller, a Nazi war hero and movie star who can't bear to watch his own life story in the film within the film, "Nation's Pride"; the aforementioned Michael Fassbender as the classy British spy who also seems to have dropped in from that era as well, and Diane Kruger as the sophisticated German movie star in undoubtedly the best role she's played by far (you'll quickly forget she was in "Troy" and "National Treasure").

But there is the piece of de resistance, the man whose glowering eyes and piercing charms will resonate long after the movie is over. He is Christoph Waltz, an actor who makes all other Nazis in the history of cinema look pale by comparison. This is an actor who epitomizes the phrase "devilish charm." He is so evil, so cunning, so humorous, so subtle and so damn charming that I am surprised that the Hitler of this movie didn't quake in his boots at the mere mention of his name, Hans Landa. Shudder, shudder, shudder. Waltz should win the Oscar (and did) for playing the most devious Nazi ever, one who so relishes a Nantucket Bay home after the war is over. Playing one of the great villains of all time, Waltz waltzes away with this movie, hands down.

Quentin Tarantino's "Inglourious Basterds" is a complete masterpiece of pop cinema, with Tarantino at his absolute peak and in full control of his own vision of war as a playful and violent diversion. I don't think he can top it, but then I didn't think he could top "Pulp Fiction." Well, he did. After the cartoonish carnival of the "Kill Bill" volumes, the grindhouse spin of "Death Proof," and the mature love story of "Jackie Brown," he has delivered his finest achievement to date. It is more than a movie - it is a reminder of the art of the cinema in all its lush glory and vivid entertainment.