'Inglourious Basterds' Soundtrack

By: Daniel Schweiger

August 20, 2009

One of these days, Quentin Tarantino might actually get a composer to score something whole — something cohesive to give shape to his genre-mashing films. But until that day comes, I’ll be fairly content to get his mix-tapes-as-soundtracks, the latest of which turns WWII into one funky Spaghetti Western by way of the Okefenokee. Sure, some may take offense that the likes of Ennio Morricone, Gianni Ferrio, Charles Bernstein and Billy Preston might trivialize the valiant sacrifices of American-Jewish heroes, but it’s likely the folks who think that will be staying far away from Inglourious Basterds, let alone its soundtrack. For those who get the one big sick joke that this film is (let alone score fans who will dig being able to get otherwise unreleased and hard-to-get tracks from the likes of White Lightning and Allonsanfan), it’s a goof worth joining on CD (though one gets the feeling that a vinyl release would have sufficed for Quentin just fine).

When the George Baker Selections’ “Little Green Bag” accompanied the slo-mo walk of the Reservoir Dogs, one knew that a filmmaker with a voice had arrived — one that could stretch evil witticisms across fifteen minutes, let alone craft some of the best use of golden oldie source material since George Lucas’ mix tape for American Graffiti. Where his songs through the likes of Pulp Fiction, Jackie Brown and Death Proof relied heavily on R&B, funk and surf music, Tarantino’s two Kill Bills opened up a new treasure trove of Asian rock, Kung Fu percussion and Spaghetti Western stylings — aforementioned music that his fellow twisted geek Robert Rodriquez would actually compose, making it the first actual underscore to appear in a Tarantino flick.

When Tarantino announced he would be remaking a cool Spaghetti WWII film as his next project, fans wondered what the hell his take would be on a war film, let alone its soundtrack. In any case, Tarantino’s resulting song and score choices (done with the help of his ace music supervisor Mary Ramos) continue to be as cool and interesting as you’d imagine, though leaving room for even more insane picks that probably could have happened here. Using the dusty, determined cowboy stylings of Morricone, Ferrio (and “The Green Leaves of Summer” from The Alamo to boot) are particularly apt here, given Brad Pitt’s wryly sadistic Nazi-killing commando. Like the build-up that Lt. Aldo Raine gives to each fairly deserved atrocity he’ll be performing on his foes, the tense, determined and heroic suspense of such inimitably Ennio cues as “The Surrender,” “The Verdict” says far more about his twisted heroism than lotsa dialogue can. Aldo’s southern knife edge is further sharpened by  Charles Bernstein’s main title for the moon shining hero Gator McKlusky in White Lightning (a particularly effective pounding bit from Bernstein’s The Entity that’s used for the shock appearance of the scene-stealing Col. Hans Landa will hopefully get released down the road).

For a film as deliberately paced as some Leone epic, Tarantino’s frequent use of Morricone serves as a welcome punctuation to the picture when nothing else is really happening in it — an eccentric snap that some wild shit might just be around the corner. Perhaps no bit does that better than Billy Preston’s “Slaughter,” his classic funk making Til Schweiger’s Nazi-hating German into one mean mofo. It’s a choice that elicits an instant laugh that’s an example of Tarantino’s musical creativity at its best. In the far more period-specific mood are “Davon Geht Die Welt Nict Unter,” “The Man With the Big Sombrero,” and the accordion of Ferrio’s “One Silver Dollar” — exactly the kind of stuff you’d hear in a Gestapo-occupied pub of the time (even if it’s the old west of Un Dollaro Buccato in Ferrio’s case). When David Bowie’s theme song for Cat People accompanies Shosanna’s calculated plotting of “Operation Kino,” it’s a stunningly great example of lyrics hitting visuals, a song whose lyrics of “putting out the fire with gasoline” tell us exactly about what’s happening onscreen in the coolest sense. It’s probably the musical highpoint in Basterds as well.

Two other lesser-known score bits also get an effective treatment for the hell-as-theater climax of Basterds, as the Gothic organ and player piano beat of Jacques Louissier’s main theme from Dark of the Sun (available on Film Score Monthly) lead to an orgasmic celluloid immolation. The “proper” military music of Lalo Schifrin’s “Tiger Tank” (from Kelly’s Heroes, also on FSM) finally gets things going, albeit with the composer’s early ’70s funk-jazz touch that keeps the musical tone eccentric and fun.

By the time Morricone’s “Rabbia e Tarantella” sends out this too-short Inglorious Basterds soundtrack with a suspenseful bounce, you might wonder just how much cooler-retro the whole enterprise could have been if Tarantino used this master of cowboy vigilante suspense to score all of his film, let alone if Charles Bernstein had gotten the chance. But as long as Tarantino has a miraculous collection of records in his house (let alone his head) and knows how to wield them with the proficiency of a Nazi skull-shattering baseball bat, it’s likely that his insanely good taste in musical tracking will remain in effect over films that just might be plain insane. Sure, he’s a record collector whose characters talk up a storm, but at least he knows what to play over their jive.