Note: The following essay, which is obviously being published months after the release of Inglourious Basterds, was written for a literary criticism class that explores theory behind literary criticism and focuses on analyzing textual works from a variety of perspectives. This assignment involved using these tools of literature to explore a work outside of the written word — I chose Inglourious Basterds. I thought I’d share it in order to show just how relevant Basterds is to the craft as a whole, so enjoy it!
To argue that filmed media such as motion pictures and television shows should not be judged or viewed in the same critical light as a piece of literature is overlooking an essential facet of this media. Film is rooted in the written word, and every event in motion is sparked by a screenplay that could easily merit a critical analysis of form, depth, and “literariness.” Literature and film are not not mere tangents of each other, nor do they share vague, accidental similarities, but instead exist as branches of one tree that infinitely stretch out to layer the world around us. Thus, film is as readily analyzable as any written text, as long as a critic is willing to examine this medium by using the theory behind literary form.
Jonathan Culler’s tri-fold definition of literariness can easily apply to the arena of film without need for much adjustment. However, to attempt to find the “best” example of a film that possesses literary qualities is a fool’s errand. Such a quest attempts to differentiate too greatly between the two mediums of literature and film, or between all existent art forms, for that matter. I can name fifteen films on the shelf behind me that have moved me as greatly as any novel while not forsaking depth, subtext, characterization or intricacy for dazzling effects work. I choose to use as an example the film that is not only freshest in my memory, but also has expanded in meaning and shifted my perceptions upon subsequent viewings — a surefire sign of scholarly attention to detail. This film is Quentin Tarantino’s Inglourious Basterds, which is layered with deft material by a keen artisan’s eye, resulting in a text that cries out to be explored from poetic and hermeneutical vantage points.
Culler states that to analyze literature is to “keep before us … the suspension of the demand for immediate intelligibility” (Culler 41). In a broader, more accessible sense, I feel this is the critical ability to revel in a sort of pleasant (or unpleasant, if the writer sees fit) ambiguity as an arc of characters and storyline unfolds. This is highly contrasted with our day-to-day lives, in which dialogue is simple and functional, and our worldly imagery is often taken at face value. The best films are able to tap into this ideal uniquely — a film leaves no breathing room as far as imagery goes. Readers of novels may envision a thousand different faces for a given character, a thousand intonations of a given sentence. Brought to life on the screen by actors and directors, however, a screenplay becomes more specific. This may be seen as a constraint that limits the extent of a film’s “literariness,” which forces a filmmaker to expand depth by detailing between the lines. This can be achieved through depth of cinematography and detail or the minute variables of inflection behind lines of dialogue. Thus, literariness in film is embodied in the work of every person responsible for a movie, from screenwriters to actors to the key grip who lights up sets.
One specific way Inglourious Basterds transcends this constraint is in the myriad oblique ways it hints and doesn’t tell. Tarantino demonstrates an ability to breathe life into every living corner of the film for our analysis. Why, for instance, are the titular Basterds only peripheral characters in a movie that bears their name, and only tangentially related to the film’s outcome? It is up to the critic to decipher the deliberate misspelling of the title, and the possibly unintentional filmmaking mistakes — a need for immediate intelligibility is expanded, and the implication of the misspelling is instead dwelled upon. The title of the film is scrawled in the opening credits with Tarantino’s own handwriting as depicted on the cover for his original screenplay. But why? Why is such a personal flair so asymmetrical from the rest of Tarantino’s catalogue utilized in this particular film, or is it of importance at all? To seek an answer to this question is a viable option for the same reason any literary text is worthy of analysis, under the umbrella that Culler labels the “hyper-protected cooperative principle,” which proclaims that the mere existence of such a potential irrelevancy dictates its importance and worthiness of exploration (Culler 62). Outside of the realm of literariness — in this case, embodied in the screenplay and finished film — this misspelling would be seen as ignorant nonsense, an unfortunately personalized typo.
Culler also cites the importance of “reflection on the implication of means of expression” (Culler 41). Through cinematography, a film has the power to express theme and voice on an almost subconscious level, when executed correctly. There are moments within Inglourious Basterds that are downright blatant in their homage to expressionism (or is it expressionism itself?), layering new and often unsettling meanings upon images that we’re familiar with from films such as The Wizard of Oz in a striking example of postmodern metafiction. But it’d be a disservice to the film to call the references it makes entirely blatant; a greater percentage of the imagery functions on another level. For instance, it can’t be unintentional that the introduction of “The Bear Jew” occurs in a leafy drainage system subconsciously evocative of the Holocaust imagery we’re so accustomed to. Or can it? The director certainly had a hand in the formation of sets and the scouting of locations for filming. Is it an accident that our minds are trained toward that grim thought, or are we being towed by successful filmmaking? These are the same sort of questions we may read into a novel: is it happenstance that a new story may evoke the characters of Shakespeare or the imagery of The Odyssey? The craftsman filmmaker, like the master of literature, has a keen understanding of where the branches of his or her tree may extend into the consciousness — what themes are similarly evoked, and where the roots for their own work rest in the ground. This tree only extends further by inviting the critic (as a work of literature does) to invest the film with his or her own interpretations, and exploring the possibilities of reference and depth.
Thus, Inglourious Basterds is operating on two levels intertwined: the first seeks to deliver a visceral and emotional experience solely through unique imagery — one unaware of The Wizard of Oz would simply be struck by Inglourious Basterds’ power. The latter operation is the film’s process of drawing attention to its own references, demanding for the critic to contemplate deliberate strokes and their implications in the broader spectrum of film and storytelling. This is quite comparable to two central methods of research used by psychologists in order to investigate human behavior, beliefs, and motives. The idiographic approach is an attempt to study the uniqueness of an individual, and the differences that distinguish that individual from the rest of society. The nomothetic approach, on the other hand, investigates the common threads between people by studying a wider range of individuals at once. Thus, the first level of analysis of this film (in other words, emphasizing the emotional experience conveyed by its imagery) could be equated to an idiographic approach or a case study, in which the uniqueness of Inglourious Basterds as a work of art becomes apparent. Contrarily, the second level can be seen as a nomothetic attempt to embed the film in a world that serves to deepen the meaning of Tarantino’s work.
This world doesn’t strictly apply to the spectrum of film, but to a vast universe of references. Take, for example, the interrogation scene of a Nazi officer in the aforementioned drainage system. As the scene (in which the rebellious Jewish “Basterds” gain the upper hand) becomes more and more brutal, a single, yellow, dead leaf falls from an overhanging tree in the autumn scene. The leaf floats down and finally rests on the chest of a Basterd played by Gedeon Burkhard. It is inarguable that this leaf upon landing resembles the Star of David, enough so that the eye is always drawn to it in the moment. The way this transpires onscreen indicates that it was most likely not a planned event — there are no camera tricks to be found, no special effects — so the moment exists as a lucky result of actor placement and good timing. The craft and literariness of the work dwells in Tarantino’s knowing use of the moment, as a director and editor, to expand the depth of the scene in unanticipated ways. The leaf could simply be seen as an accident, or a deliberate stroke to invest a scene of visceral brutality with a stamp of cultural significance and history. The moment could be inherently beautiful, as any successful piece of literature is, or aesthetically gripping due to the schema of connections it creates, subconsciously weaving pulp fiction into a realistic context.
This isn’t to say that context — either filmic or historical — is the essential element in viewing a film through the lens of literature. However, in the case of Inglourious Basterds (and much of Tarantino’s remaining catalogue), this is likely to be the most dominant ingredient. Tarantino is simply so precocious in his knowledge of film that his work has often been criticized as moving beyond intertextuality toward blatant homage and plagiarism. It would be hard to argue against the fact that his style is blatant; however, it would be harder to argue that it thrives perfectly by serving as a commentary upon both the world of film and the real world that has produced these films. Intertextuality is present between Inglourious Basterds and the surface of media violence that has enabled its existence, just as intertexuality is present between the film and those who have paved the way for it.
To exemplify the intertextuality on display in the film, it is important to examine Culler’s statements regarding the importance of the critic’s attention to “how meaning is made and pleasure produced” (Culler 41). In the case of Inglourious Basterds, the work particularly thrives in the way it has divided the spectrum of its critical audience. It bisects the attentive viewer by heaping a great deal of excitatory violence on his or her plate as a means of release; one feels their blood boiling as tension builds in the film and violence is ratcheted up. However, the film simultaneously forces this viewer to question the emotion felt due to the subject material at hand: as an audience member, are you being asked to make a judgment call on the appropriateness of violence in cinema? If so, what does this say about your bloodlust, your fascination with what is transpiring? These are questions that are actively asked throughout the film. Tarantino is manipulative in Inglourious Basterds, and his work is self-aware. As perverse and cartoonish as many of the moments in the film may be, they still warrant a place within the arena of critical commentary simply through the understanding of their place within the realm of violent cinema. No haphazard bloodshed in the film is executed haphazardly, and every gruesome moment of self-indulgence is engineered to coerce the viewer into questioning his or her taste for the violence they’re observing.
Inglourious Basterds makes a statement about innate violence that is illustrated specifically enough and broadly enough, through text and subtext, to be explored through a variety of perspectives; yet, as with any literary work, conclusions drawn from these perspectives will be reached in drastically different ways. It is this ambiguity of stylistic choice and moral statement is the labyrinthine aspect of the film — and of the best films in general — that intertwines Basterds with literary material, solidifying its foundation as a piece of literature itself, and warrants its exploration through literary study on a level equal to any novel.
Culler, Jonathan. Literary Theory: A Very Short Introduction. New York: Oxford University
Press, 2000.
