I don’t like Tarantino. I don’t like his films, I don’t like his personality, and I don’t like his stupid fucking face. Especially his enormous chin.
I usually don’t like his fans, either.
OK, Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction were slightly entertaining. They were easy popcorn entertainment to pass a couple of hours. But you wouldn’t think that from listening to his fans go on about how smart and original those films are. This smug bastard has managed to fool everyone into thinking his shit don’t stink.
But it stinks. It reeks like a dead slave hanging from a tree in the scorching Alabama sun.
Tarantino’s brand of postmodern quilting of the styles and scenes from old cult and exploitation movies has struck a nerve in a generation that’s now too retarded to think of anything new. Watching Quentin Tarantino’s movies is like watching Quentin Tarantino show you his movie collection. I want Tarantino to stop talking; I’d rather watch the movies he’s talking about. The really fun, brutal, and interesting movies that he’s stolen from all these years.
Referencing other people’s works isn’t something new and needn’t necessarily be a bad thing. It’s one of many tools for storytelling. But when your movies are nothing but pastiches and tips o’ the hat to other people’s work, then you’re no longer a storyteller. You’re just jerking off. In everybody’s faces. And everybody apparently loves it.
Why do you love being ejaculated in the face by Quentin Tarantino, people? And why do you always ask for more?
And now he’s going to put his own spin on the Django movies. Why would anyone mess with the Django movies? The once talented Takashi Miike has already done damage to them, and now Tarantino is ready to deliver the death blow.
So I’m reading this article, mostly to fuel my hatred so I can get through the day. I’m driven by hatred. Hatred and Schadenfreude and sex. But now my inner fascist is really going berserk. He’s howling and stomping like a Satanic Tex Avery wolf inside my head.
In the article, there’s a paragraph so stupid, you have to be a journalist to write it. It translates to something like this:
[In Inglorious Basterds] he lets Hitler be killed by a Jew. Unafraid to deal with heavy material, Tarantino now accomplishes a plan he conceived 10 years ago: to deal with the slavery era.
Excuse me? What? Come again?
Letting a Jew kill Hitler in your movie is brave? Is it controversial to make a movie about American slavery?
I must have entered some kind of Bizarro dimension, because last time I checked, Germany lost the war, Hitler is still considered a horrible human being, slavery in America has long since been abolished, and not many people miss it.
When did slagging off Hitler and the Southern slave masters become a risky thing to do?
When did Hollywood become afraid to show slavery in a bad light from fear that they would upset the important white supremacist market?
It’s not the first time I’ve heard Inglorious Basterds and his upcoming Django turd be called brave and edgy.
So I’m sitting there perplexed, trying to make sense of it all, wondering who starts these idiotic memes. Who was the first to think Django Unchained was anything less than safe preaching to the international choir?
I didn’t have to search very long.
The first one to describe Quentin Tarantino’s new movie project as brave was Quentin Tarantino himself.
Here’s a quote from The Telegraph in 2007:
"I want to explore something that really hasn’t been done," he says. "I want to do movies that deal with America’s horrible past with slavery and stuff but do them like spaghetti westerns, not like big issue movies. I want to do them like they’re genre films, but they deal with everything that America has never dealt with because it’s ashamed of it, and other countries don’t really deal with because they don’t feel they have the right to.
"But I can deal with it all right, and I’m the guy to do it. So maybe that’s the next mountain waiting for me."
Yeah, you’re a brave man, Quentin. You’re the only one who can do this. No one has ever made movies about American slavery before. America sure hasn’t dealt with its past a thousand times already in movies, books, and television. And definitely not with as cool soundtrack as you’ll probably use.
And your movie will sure wash that American shame away.
You’re bigger than Jesus, Quent.
Fucking asshole. Contrary to what some people might think, I’m not a Nazi. Nazism is wack, yo. I ain’t down with the NSDAP, you dig?
Neither am I a fan of slavery in any form.
I think humanity should strive—and I know I’m using a highly tasteless metaphor here considering the subject—to break free from the oppressive ideological shackles that have enslaved us for so long and made our previous century into such a deadly nightmare. And I think we should all take care of each other as best we can, regardless of race, creed, religion, or band T-shirt.
But I also think everyone has an inner fascist, an inner massa—a brutal beast that lurks inside your mind and usually stays put there but will come out and do very dark deeds given the right conditions and circumstances. It’s a human beast, and it will never leave us.
That beast took over the Nazis and it took over the slave owners in the South. No longer with their inner beasts kept firmly in check, they were able to see certain people as worthless and expendable and then act accordingly.
Tarantino titillates that beast in me. He makes the beast in me start desperately clawing its way out of my mind and trying to enter the real world. When I hear Tarantino speak, when I see his face, when I see his films—that’s when I start thinking that maybe mass murder isn’t such a bad idea after all.
I wouldn’t care about ethnic cleansing, though. Instead I would go after the shitheads who make this world so utterly unbearable right now.
“I think Kevin Smith is the voice of my generation.”
BANG! Neck shot. Toss him in the mass grave!
“Lady Gaga brilliantly holds up a mirror to society.”
BONK! Watch that head rolling!
“Tarantino is the last great auteur.”
Get in the shower, you vermin! SCHNELL! SCHNELL!
My inner fascist is vicious and hungry and I’m afraid of him. So I keep him in check by constantly feeding him nuggets of douchebaggery. Douchebaggery like this self-serving rubbish that Tarantino pissed on a piece of paper and delivered to The New York Times:
When you learn of the rules and practices of slavery, it was as violent as anything I could do — and absurd and bizarre. You can’t believe it’s happening, which is the nature of true surrealism.
No, Quentin. Slavery wasn’t—and still isn’t—absurd, bizarre, nor surreal. The only reason you think that is because you’re a fucking child, a brain-damaged pop-culture junkie who is unable to actually deal with real human nature.
Slavery is cruel, ugly, and sad, but it unfortunately also makes perfect sense. It’s what human beings do. We find ways to devalue each other so that we can remorselessly use each other as stepping stones and secure the future of whatever group one identifies with.
Brutality comes disturbingly easy to the human kind.
The antebellum South and Nazi Germany were both brutal and dark places, but they were never absurd. It was all very real, and very real people killed and got killed there. And it made depressingly perfect sense.
But Quentin just had to put a David Bowie song over it all and use it to promote himself, the mongoloid shit-weasel that he is.
That’s what we’ve become: a generation who can no longer grapple with our own sordid history unless some big-chinned smugster puts an ironic soundtrack to it.
Perhaps we need a new and devastating World War.
Maybe I’ll watch Triumph of the Will or Birth of a Nation again tonight. Those are masterpieces that Tarantino will never surpass. They’re real manifestos from eras Quentin Tarantino doesn’t have the guts to properly explore.
Fuck him and his ridiculous chin.