Indulging One's Own Self

Why should a writer who writes a movie that totally shreds such obvious history to satisfy his/her own creative penning of a story bother me? After all, history is nothing but a social construct, right?

I just finished watching Quentin Tarantino's Inglorious Basterds. It had the typical - and expected - Tarantino violence - as well as his quirky, boyish, movie-loving schmaltz, but aside from a few interesting performances - er, well one - that of Christoph Waltz, the total rip of history was something I could not overlook.

Boy, I've been hitting a patch of bad movies lately.

I also saw John Wayne in The Train Robbers. Yikes, he just phoned this performance in, didn't he?

The story was supposed to be centered around some convoluted robbery, but really, it was all about watching the stunning Ann-Margaret put on a pair of tight red jeans. Granted, she looks awesome. It seemed everything and everybody else was just gravy.

Aside from a weirdly placed prairie dog scene, the movie was a cookie-cutout western that dragged on a bit too long. Gosh, I think I have about 140 more John Wayne movies to go. Onward!