In order to prove that the debut works often represent the author’s most primitive and fundamental character, I tried my best to smoothly and carefully stream the whole movie, ignoring the ignorance caused by some cultural differences. Uh huh, the director has something to watch. In such a popular term, I complained that some details of this movie were deliberately overly wordy. In fact, I personally feel that the reason should not be attributed to the director’s fledgling incomprehension, but rather that he is showing off his coquettishness and provoking consumers (such as Mr. Pink's section on why he can’t be called Pink, if he has to This serves as a projection of his character or a foreshadowing of the plot later). The narrative of the 29-year-old Quentin in 1992 has matured (I thought that the foot-wrapped like a virgin at the beginning was the director’s mental projection). Although it was still the face of the shoehorn, the shoes were tasteful and talented. Able to choreograph, direct, act, and love to be provocative becomes nature, I, bear it. Gearing up.
Closer to home, I really want to talk about violent aesthetics. As soon as Mr. Blonde was immersed in Billy's 70s Weekend, I thought of Alex in A Clockwork Orange humming singin' in the rain while performing a horror show. They are all equally dedicated violent lovers. They can cut off the unlucky police's ears while being intoxicated (Sick...). The Beethoven fan, who is indignant with people and gods, lets violence and rape coexist. Music and violence coexist. The stimulating effect of the nerve center, which is called fascinating, makes you more paranoid, violent extreme violence (music and violent aesthetics, another excellent thesis).
Oh, by the way, Michael Madsen's eyes are a bit of a Hollywood niche in the early 20th century, who is it, Clark Gable. Tim Roth needless to say, a good low-key actor, who once suspected and broke his arm with Mr. White following the plot (and not pure, the director may just want to express a noble trust relationship...).
I don’t understand how Mr. Blue and Mr. Blown (Quentin himself) died. One of them was just a shot by Tim Roth in the head?
What a wonderful movie that is not drowsy. Inglorious Bastards will be released worldwide in a few days, and I won’t see it again. By the way, Quentin Tarantino had my birthday on the same day as Quentin Tarantino. It was destined that I should watch his movie so heartily and kicked and stretched my arms. To commemorate this discovery, I decided to see the commercial one. Kill Bill (Dare to ask who came to watch a movie backwards like me?).
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