Going on five years now we have selected a movie to screen as we ride on Sunday mornings. We average about two hours of steady-state, non-stop Zone 2 work netting around 50 miles. Our genera of choice is the category known as action. Shit has to happen. Most Science Fiction is OK. Overly dialogue dependent dramas fail to provide sufficient adrenaline. Comedies are too slow and even award winning documentaries fail top deliver the counter punch necessary to shift one's focus away from discomfort and low-grade suffering. We like Westerns, war and adventure. We are particularly fond of the Cohen Brothers, with our number one, all-time fave, for the fourth consecutive year, being the phenomenal Inglorious Basterds.
You know the story and I am are sure you have watched it more than once. Meaning, that like us, every viewing is an opportunity to appreciate the nuance and craftsmanship these two talented siblings bring to the big screen. Christopher Waltz is so good in his role as Col Hans Landa, that the annual love-fest known as the Academy Awards should be cancelled for at least ten years as no finer performance is possible, let alone probable. And then you have Brad Pitt doing his half Tennessee half Cherokee stuff with a handful of Nazi chasing bad-ass renegades. The true genius of this film however lies in the screenplay. Tarantino’s gift. If you listen closely, the insanely clever dialogue will amaze even the most discerning students of the craft.
We will be staging our annual tribute to the Basterds on Sunday.
Although I have sat through it a half-dozen times prior, logging the requisite miles in joyful accompaniment, I can’t wait.
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