But it was 2009's Inglourious Basterds that might be remembered as Tarantino's best film. The director's WWII-inspired vengeance tale had it all: Femme Fatales, orgies of violence, excellent acting (and an Academy Award for newcomer Christoph Waltz) and an excellent, vengeance-filled story. Best of all, gone was possibly the worst and most-telling sign of a Tarantino movie; the unnecessary conversation. Every previous flick of his had them: long, arbitrary dialogue meant to express the filmmaker's opinion on one topic or another. Usually they had little or nothing to do with the plot of the movie, and often were the dullest aspects of his work. Basterds was surprising in that it largely rid itself of them, and the result was a clean, uncluttered film that retained all of Tarantino's creativity and imagery and none of his self-indulgence. It's as if the years of experience had finally matured into a sense of focus, and he no longer needed to add these elements out of mere amusement.
|Just don't call him "Sundance"...|
|Yup, that's some hammer.|
|Yes, that's Samuel L. Jackson. Yes, he's awesome.|
|You don't say anything bad about Django's dress code.|