Inglourious Basterds

I’ve seen it once.

Chapter One was as incredible as I imagined it would be when I read the script for it in ‘Vanity Fair’ a few months back. There were other moments that also killed me - the strudel & the cream, 3 whiskeys at the bar, ‘he speaks third best I-talian.’ Christoph Waltz made me shiver and Melanie Laurent (who way outshined Kruger) was wonderful; she made me want to run home and play with my Chanel lipsticks, while watching B-Movies at the same time (thatttta girl!).

But I wasn’t as taken with it as I’d hoped I’d be. When we saw ‘Death Proof’ people stood up to cheer during the final car chase; when I saw ‘Planet Terror’ I had to go straight back in the next evening and see it again. By myself. ‘Inglourious’? Not so immediately ‘wow’d.

Perhaps it was because of all the poor reviews I’d read about it prior to it’s release.

Perhaps it was because it was such a long movie in such an uncomfortable cinema that I’d forgotten a lot of it by the time Jon was dragging my numb butt back to my car.

Perhaps it was because it just wasn’t that great.

I’m unconvinced.

So you can be damned sure that this ‘Orange Wednesday’ we’ll be back in the cinema, giving it another go and rooting for Mr Quentin T wholeheartedly, having stuffed ourselves silly with 2 for 1 pizzas at Pizza Express beforehand.