Tragic memory: is Tarantino right?

“Memory of Shoah”
Publishing House Officyna, Lodz 2009

This 900 pages collection of essays edited by Tomasz Majewski and Anna Zeidler-Janiszewska has several sections. One of which, “Memory through art,” is edited by Alicja Kuczyńska, also a contributor. Even though I do not know how my Mom would react to the film (I liked the script but was dissipated by its screen version) her remarks introducing the art section seem to offer some validation to the wild concept of “Inglorious Basterds,” and, what’s more important, clarify the landscape of tragic memory.

Here is my riff on her thoughts:

That which was – changes. With passing time, that which was reveals less of its original self and instead increases its unknown territory. In hugely traumatic events which reside in our memory the ratio between the “known” and the “unknown” changes with time. Yet their total space stays the same.

Within this space, the “unknown” still has power. It exists as a void, a moral wound, a cry of souls, as something that is not given a proper presence. The fact that the memory fades does not remove its traumatic weight from our collective or individual subconsciousness.

Additionally traditional narrative techniques are running out their courses. The narrative becomes anti-narrative, new materials appears, new spheres for artistic expressions emerge and with them new sides of a tragic event or a traumatic issue from the past are brought forth.

If the sphere of “memory” needs to be constantly adjusted and filled with the new and if the tools are changing, aren’t we pushed to seek new ways to deal with the horror of the past?

Don’t latest attempts in the new media, new art, result in treating the past as a layer of the present? Meanings multiply, their sensuous dimensions change. There is a transition from representation to interpretation. There is a push to favor more existential, broader approach. In a generational change the witnesses are slowly being replaced by the “memory guardians,” who unavoidably change the transmission of the message. To carry the pain, they have to make it personal, with new techniques and new sensitivities.

The trauma of the horrors experienced by our grandparents is always present. If it’s not voiced and remains “blank” or unexpressed, it does not mean it does not exist. If we don’t diffuse its cry the trauma can explode and create additional damage. Art can attempt to handle those “blank” tragic memory regions and by doing so help it (and us) to heal. The tragic memory does not seek the restitution of the past. It wants to negate it. If so, isn’t the alternative, victorious past of “Inglorious Basterds” a step in the right direction? (Even if this particular attempt is shallow.) Furthermore, can we seek catharsis changing the outcome of a past horror? Can we use our imagination to heal the wounds?

Remake of “Basterds” needed.

Weird, isn't it? "Inglorious Basterds"
premiering at The Cannes Film Festival.

I am going to rant, but first let me say that I really like the idea of a furious, wild and historically untrue screen revenge bestowed upon the Nazis. The pain and the horror they caused are around us forever. We have to process it and there must be more than one way to do it. The over the top, cartoonish style could be certainly one manner of dealing with the issue. If done right, that is.

Most of the time however, regardless of style and subject, things are not done right. We consume half baked goods and get high on sour wine. Being as starved as we are justifies our devouring of those clumsily prepared dishes we call films. Yet it does not justify sloppiness and haste of their cooks. Aren’t the entries most often deep fried and over-sugared? This fast food for human psyche clogs up arteries of our dignity, freedom and advancement. Yes, it’s that serious.

Let’s take a recent example of the obviously tired and absent minded cook (Quentin Tarantino), who previously delighted us with the most wonderful and innovate dishes. This time working with a promising recipe, he clearly allowed it to undercook. As a result we got a good looking thing with mostly uneatable interior.

Before we move to the style: there is the whole discussion about “ethical dilemma” of violence in the film. This astounds me. Do you cafe late drinkers really debate if that’s okay to cheer fictitious killings of the Nazis? Am I hearing it right? We are talking the killing in which Adolf Hitler, Joseph Goebbels, their whores, flunkies, the entire entourage perish. The war ends sooner. Yet, you feel “uneasy”? You feel that’s “not morally right” to equate the Nazis’ cheering their soldier/actor killing our people on screen with us cheering when our people massacre on screen the Nazis. Are you serious? Would you like me to teleport you back in time?

Yes, let's the motherfuckers die. In reality and in our collective psyche. Let’s cheer these killings. Perhaps doing so will offer some consolation. Thanks Quentin for that.

It’s just that there is something missing in the delivery. What could have been inspired and cathartic appears juvenile, rushed, superficial. With not enough fire. Not enough balls. The entire story is with not enough heart. Another luck warm dish pretending to be something else. We eat it up because there is nothing else in this category. That’s why I am postulating an instant remake.

Here is my dream set up for such a production: The script stays as originally written, not as presented on screen. The script's second chapter based on flashbacks is an audacious formal experiment. Little of it remains on screen. What has happened? Also what has happened to Donny Donowitz before the war scenes? They were great. They and other omissions (like the speech of Landa that Shosanna could become “a president of the United States”) on paper nicely punched up craziness, and - in case of Donny Donowitz provided more passion and heart. More character. How come the most interesting characters in this flick belong to the Germans? Something is not right.

To ensue that the film has a soul, I would ask Edward Zwick and Pieter Jan Brugge of “Defiance” to produce. (Contrary to many, I think that the “Defiance” is a great film. It gives a solid emotional and cleansing ride, which is missing in “Basterds.”) Directing should go to Mark Neveldine and Brian Taylor of “Crank: Hight Voltage.” This wonderful and absolutely insane flick has all the kicks, fury, preposterousness and aliveness needed to make the "Basterds" script truly rise. (Yes, I am aware of the aesthetic differences between the restrain of the QT style, and the madness of "Crank". Yet, a blend of the two is is possible, energy is transferable.)

Just for the record: otherwise I am a big fan of Tarantino. I am writing this the day after I finished conducting a filmmaking workshop which ended with “Pulp Fiction,” in my book one of the best films ever.

Pastiche - storytelling about storytelling

"Inglorious Basterds",
written and directed by Quentin Tarantino

“I love rumors. Facts can be so misleading, where rumors, true or false, are often revealing.” - Col. Landa - “Inglorious Basterds”

The characters in Tarantino’s films are high on performing their own lives. They are storytellers of their own lives. They are self-aware of their own, self created NARRATIVES. That’s what makes them so cool. That’s probably why the entire planet went nuts over “Reservoir Dogs” and “Pulp Fiction”.

Not only the characters in these stories are high on storytelling. The storyteller himself is high on his craft. More: the story is high on itself. Through its stylization, its self awareness. The story is at the same time both sincere and self-reflective. The key is “at the same time”, because any fool can write something straight and later comment on it.

In the Internet posted (leaked way too early?) script for “Inglorious Basterds” there is so much typographical and grammatical lapses that either Tarantino uses a manual typewriter, writes very fast, is a dyslexic or just plainly fucks with some future uptight reader. Probably the latter, as per (narratively justified) “basterds”. It works, judging by the number of indignant “He’s a fraud. He can’t write, he misspells!” comments. I wish I could participate in this delicious game, but with my English I have to restrain to the most general aspects of storytelling in the script.

Let’s take the 18 page long prologue. The upcoming events are foreshadow by the four stylistic elements:

The title. “Once Upon a Time in France”. A narrative aspect of what will follow can’t be spelled out more clearly.

The context. In the Nazi occupied France when a military car drives up to a farm house it most likely announces something no good. In fact, anything Nazi is no good.

The initial info (on page 2) that something is dramatically off. “After living for a year with a sword of Damocles suspended over his head, this may very well be the end.” We don’t know what’s wrong but the sentence is clear enough. Afterwards the more time is spent on pleasantries the more suspense accumulates. Pure Hitchcock.

And finally the narrative self-consciousness of the bad guy, Col. Landa, who gets off on his act and whose “acting” drives the Proloque.

The resulting pages are a great read. Of course the proof of the pudding is in the eating so I can’t wait to see the actual film.