Two men emerge from the mountains to do a job. To defeat their nation’s enemies. One from the Alps, one from the Smokeys. They both enter a world where everyone must pretend to be something they’re not. Their culture, their language, their religion. Their ability to traverse different worlds equates one’s ability to survive.

One man is a chameleon. He can change on a dime and blend in anywhere. One man can’t change. One man emerges victorious.

I think that most people can acknowledge that Inglourious Basterds is one of Tarantino’s best works. It’s impeccably shot, acted, and the dialogue is as virtuosic as of Tarantino’s works. His dialogue is so impeccable that some have compared him to our modern Shakespeare, and Bastards has some of his best conversations, and best lines between characters.

However I think that many have dismissed Basterds as a mere cathartic exercise . A genre piece without thematic depth. I disagreed. There’s always been something floating in the air that I couldn’t quite figure out. Despite Tarantino claiming in interviews and in the final line of Basterds that it is his masterpiece, he doesn’t go out of his way to explain the themes or the subtext that are in his 6th (or 7th depending on how you count) film.

But I think it’s his masterpiece. And I think I’ve finally figured out the subtext that made Inglourious Basterds resonate with me for so many years. I think I can get into it.

Τhere are many a Tarantino quote and interview out there. They’re often about an opinion about another director’s career, or the state of the movie industry. But the quote that always stuck out to me was when he was in the Sundance lab, and he was told to go over the script for Reservoir Dogs, and find the subtext. He did a close reading of the script, and found that it was a father and son story between Mr. White and Mr. Orange. He did the task that Sundance assigned him, then said (to paraphrase) “Great. Now that I know the subtext is there, I never have to do that exercise again.”

I think that speaks to Tarantino’s philosophy as a writer. Unlike someone like Francis Ford Coppola, who tries to narrow down his themes to one word, and tries to make every scene about that one word theme, Tarantino players with situations. With genre conventions, with history, with personal experience. He’s not preoccupied with the audience understanding the intent behind the words. He’s satisfied to give us an entertaining ride, then let the themes sit in the back of our minds. Gnawing at us. You need to break down the events one by one to find the subtext.

Chapter One Once upon a time… in Nazi-occupied France

Hans Landa is a chameleon. He walks onto the LaPadite farm like he owns the place, asking for milk, asking the farmer’s daughters to leave the farmhouse. However unlike other German officers, who demand that everything they touch become more German, Landa appears to conform. He is fluent in French and Italian as well as English. Landa has the ability to twist and conform to enemy territory to get the job done.

Unlike the hammer of the Third Reich and its Blitzkreig, Landa is a scalpel. He is a cultured man from the Austrian alps. A cultured place that is in the center of Europe, where people speak German, French and Italian right next door.

In contrast to the rest of the S.S., Alda is a cosmopolitan prosecuting a fascist agenda. He appreciates French culture, cuisine and cigarettes. He admires the Jews. He wants to understand them in order to better kill them.

Chapter Two INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS

Lieutenant Aldo Raine is exactly what he seems. A Scotts-Irish mountain man from Maynardville Tennessee. He comes from a backwater that the country forgot about. For generations people from the smoky mountains lived isolated in poverty, working in the mines and the mountains and making liquor, to enjoy themselves and make a few extra bucks. He learned his running and gunning tactics from running moonshine, and from his Scottish ancestors before him.

In his introductory monologue, his accent is thick. He and the other Basterds are completely incapable of blending in. They know who they are, and they know their job. Killing nazis. Their outward appearances are conspicuous, and their mission is morally pure and resolute.

Chapter Three GERMAN NIGHT IN PARIS

Shoshana Dreyfus is always hiding who she is. When the Nazi Regime rolled into France, her family went into hiding. A year later, her family is murdered by Landa. She spends the rest of the war hiding in Paris, a Frenchwoman through and through, who must hide both her race and her religion.

Shoshana is as French as French can be. She smokes cigarettes, she flirts, she respects directors, she loves Marcel, her black coworker. She is everything great about cosmopolitan France. That makes her a target of every German who encounters her. It is an old stereotype of Eastern Europe that the military powers of the European plain feel culturally inferior to the bastion of France. At their worst, the Germans and the Russians have wanted to conquer Paris militarily to prove their superiority to the French people.

Enter Fredrick Zoller. A Nazi war hero who wants to win Shoshana’s affection by proving his own cosmopolitanism. He’s a film buff, he’s polite, he’s fluent in French when every other German Shoshana encounters is barking at her in their native tongue, wanting to appreciate her culture, to steal its art and its prestige, while enforcing their iron will over her.

Shoshana is forced to play their game when they ask to use her theater for Goebbels’ film premiere. She temporarily bends to their iron will. She blends in, hiding who she truly is. But she doesn’t reciprocate Zoller’s affection. Her mission, and her morals are pure.

Chapter Four OPERATION KINO

Lieutenant Archie Hicox appears to be as British as a Brit can be. When he enters the briefing room he is the epitome of stiff upper lip. General Ed French and Winston Churchill are in that room to defeat Hitler’s evil empire, and they see Hicox on an even level. Hicox has the moral purity and fortitude to get the job done. But they’ve selected him because they believe he can blend in with the Germans. They believe he’s a chameleon.

Hicox is a film critic. Someone who knows the ins and outs of the German film industry, and who will supposedly blend in perfectly in a German uniform. He is placed with three other spies for a rendezvous in Nadine, France, where they are to pick up movie star and spy, Bridget von Hammersmark.

Hammersmark is German through and through, but has a similar moral resolve to the rest of the Basterds, German born and American born alike. He plan is to meet in a tavern, go to the premiere of Zoller’s new film, and blow up the German high command. Aldo questions the plan, who prefers a direct fight to deception, but Hammersmark and Hicox believe they can be in and out.

When the Basterds meet a German squad, drunkenly celebrating in the tavern, one of the most captivating and tense sequences in Tarantino’s filmography ensues. It all hinges on Hicox’s ability to blend in as a German. He almost does it.

Chapter Five REVENGE OF THE GIANT FACE

When Hammersmark failed to get her Anglo-chameleon. To the premier she could’ve given up. She’s a wounded actress, and what remains of the Basterds are a bunch of dumb Americans with thick Appalachian and Boston accents. The task is impossible. But her moral purity and resolve pushes her to keep moving. The Basterds will find a way to do the impossible. Hoping that the Germans won’t have an ear for Italian accents.

When they arrive, not only are they unable to blend in, they are confronted with the chameleon Hans Landa. Who is able to sniff out any traitor to the Nazi Cause.

Landa kills Hammersmark, captures Rain, yet leaves Sergeant Donowitz and Private Ulmer to complete their task. Landa makes his bet. That he can negotiate his way to a deal where he can get away Scott free. That he can escape justice for his actions. For the Jews he murdered. For the crimes he committed on behalf of Goebbels propaganda machine, and Hitler’s genocidal campaign. He almost does it.

But Landa if facing Lieutenant Aldo Raine. A man who like Hammersmark, like Shoshana, recognizes that while the Nazis may be human, while they may be fathers and lovers and good soldiers, they must be punished for their crimes. By following orders, and becoming “foot soldiers to a Jew-hatin’, mass murderin’ maniac” they’re lost their humanity. And they need to be brought to justice. “They need to be destroyed.”

Landa and Zoller both think that their social positions can be negotiated, and forced through social connections. They think their ability to blend in puts them above their brutish counterparts. They think they’re operating on a level of mutual respect with their Allied counterparts.

But Aldo the Apache and Shoshana Dreyfus don’t operate on that level of mutual respect. They’re willing to die to do what’s right. To hell with niceties.

The exercise of reading the subtext of a film may not be necessary to making it. If the author is truly dead, it doesn’t matter what your thematic intentions are. The poetry and the meaning will be found in between the lines.

It takes a great amount of confidence to go forward and write the situation without focusing too much on the themes. But I think that Tarantino figured it out by trusting his gut, and writing what would be satisfying to an audience.

He could’ve come up with a convoluted reason for why the Basterds failed to kill Hitler, but that would not have been satisfying. He could’ve left the situation as it came about, with Landa escaping to Nantucket Island. But that would’ve left the audience un-satiated as well. The Nazis can’t just lose. We need to see them punished. We need to see the fear in their eyes.

I think Tarantino admires Hans Landa. He’s intelligent, cultured, well read, and wants to be good at his job. But intelligence does not make you a good person. Speaking multiple languages does not mean you share cosmopolitan values. One may think they can squirm out of any situation if they can negotiate, but that would be an immoral universe.

Tarantino gave the audience two counterparts to Hans Landa. A victim out for revenge, and a prosecutor. I think that in Inglourious Basterds he’s saying, intentionally or not, that it is good and right to pursue justice. That understanding those who are different from you is a virtuous trait, but valuing those who are different, and fighting for them, is a moral trait.

I think we need morals in a cruel world.

Even if it’s unnecessary to look for themes in the subtext. I think it’s a virtuous exercise.

It often feels as though one must be taught to appreciate pop culture. There are endless encyclopedias diving into the most minute details of characters and their worlds. A machine of content is fueled by both passionate people and corporations who must sustain an intellectual property that has been driving their growth for generations. As the writer Glen Weldon wrote in his book “The Caped Crusade,” nerds thrive when they can get lost in a deep lake. They don’t need to worry about what others think of them, and they can explore the lake endlessly. Normals just want to take laps in a pool, get out, dry off, and get on with their lives.

This complexity has long driven the character of Superman. A man from Kansas who was sent by his parents from the planet Krypton, who’s weakness is a radiation from a crystal that came from his home planet, and who keeps the capital of his planet in a jar in a fortress in the North Pole. Superman has had several lovers, he has been cloned, he has had children, he has died and come back to life. His “S” is an ancient Kryptonian crest that means hope, and it stands for “Superman.” This complexity is at the core of comic books. The people who are willing to pay to keep reading must be engaged. Every week they need new twists and turns. They need new adventures. But the complexity also stands in contrast to the simplicity of the character.

Superman is strong. Superman can fly. Superman finds the truth. Superman is good. These simple facts have stuck in the collective conscious of our culture. They are things that are so simple, that they are contradicted within the story. Kryptonite makes Superman weak. Superman’s parents work the land. Superman must lie about his identity. Superman’s enemies are smart. People don’t believe Superman is good. The simplicity of the character moves him beyond the text of the comic books. The contrast elevates him into the mythological.

But because he is so simple, it becomes difficult to translate him out of the collective conscious and onto a page. While nerds want to dive deep, and read every single adventure Superman has, general audiences, the normals, want a good story. Something they can watch in a couple hours, be satisfied, and go about their day.

I think like many people my age, I liked the idea of Superman as a kid. He was strong. He could fly. But I never got into the character. In part because I didn’t know how to get into comic books, in part because we moved constantly and I couldn’t keep up with whatever animated shows were airing on Cartoon Network. I became interested in Batman and Iron Man, because I got digestible stories about flawed people. The world wanted “real” heroes. Heroes who had demons. Heroes who changed drastically from the beginning of their origin to the end. Superman the idea faded into childhood. I tried to put away childish things.

But my mom bought us a DVD set of the four Christopher Reeve movies. Reeve stood out because he was able to represent the simplicity of Clark Kent’s goodness, and inject nuance into the portrayal. It wasn’t pure goodness, there was struggle. The struggle generated friction in Clark’s psyche, and that friction generated heat that came off the screen.

But as I watched the rest of the Reeve movies, the simplicity stayed, and the complexities faded away. They strayed away from much of the source material, and began to make Superman the idea derivative of the original 1978 movie. Reeve and Donner’s interpretation was so powerful that their version overwhelmed the collective conscious of the character. The beloved details of the character further faded to the watchful caretaking of the nerds.

In high school, Batman movies were all the rage. Iron Man had transformed Hollywood. The world had become cynical. People often claimed that Superman was a dork. A Boy Scout. He had no struggle so he was uninteresting. Batman and Iron Man didn’t have powers. They were more relatable. In order to make Superman relevant, the creatives at warner brothers made Man of Steel, a movie that in retrospect, tried to subvert the idea of Superman.

Superman is strong? What are the sci-fi explanations for why he’s strong. Superman can fly? How would that look on camera? Superman finds the truth? What if he doubts the truth? Superman is good? Can anyone that powerful be good?

For the normals, (specifically teenage boys who didn’t have time to read comic books) this was an interesting take on the character. It brought Superman to the interesting depths of Batman. Superman is gritty. Why would we trust an authority like that anyway? Maybe Superman should kill if it’s for the greater good.

But in so doing, Man of Steel got rid of many of the details that made the character interesting to the passionate nerds. There were reasons why Superman became a journalist. There were reasons why Jonathan Kent told Clark to do the right thing. There were reasons why Superman floated instead of making sonic booms.

Ironically, the difficulties of balancing Superman the idea with Superman the character had kept general audiences from remembering the heart of the character. Normals don’t want to go to a deep lake. They want to swim in a pool. But if a character is as complex as Superman, it’s incredibly difficult to contain him to a mere swimming pool.

General audiences got cynical. And they started buying the skeptical interpretations of Superman. He’s too powerful. He’s uncool. No one can really be that good.

In the depths of the lake, nerds know that these are the arguments of Lex Luthor.

On Superman’s 80th anniversary, I got a compilation of Superman comics at South by Southwest. In the very first issue, he saves an innocent man from the death penalty, he confronts an abuser, he stops a speeding car with his bare hands to save Lois Lane.

In following issues, he confronts a corrupt senator, stops an unjust war, fights street gangs, and arrests Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin. He is “the champion of the oppressed, the physical marvel who has sworn to devote his existence to helping those in need.”

Superman is strong. Superman can fly. Superman finds the truth. Superman is good.

When James Gunn announced that he was writing and directing a Superman movie, he recommended a bunch of comic books. I bought Superman: All Star and Superman for All Seasons. I’ve slowly but surely gone back to the roots of the character. Superman is a good person who wants to do the right thing. He is super because his desire to do good is so pure, and because his unique powers give him the ability to do so.

As I read these children’s stories, and read the nuances that adults have put onto them, I’ve learned that I want to be like Superman. I want to do the right thing. I want to use my abilities to help people. I want to soar. And as I get older, I realize that there is a cynicism that stands in opposition to Superman. No one should be that powerful. You shouldn’t trust people who are that sincere. No one can be that good.

I don’t think that any one person can solve our problems. And I don’t think that we should blind ourselves to the complexities of the world. But I think we should take a lesson from those Kansas values. The values that Clark learned here on Earth. That right is right, and if you’re able to see the truth clearly, you have the responsibility to do the right thing.

I think that’s what’s brilliant about Gunn’s new movie. That he was able to see the cynicism in the world, and instead of bending to it, adapting Clark to that darkness, he made Superman stand in opposition to it. The citizens of Metropolis are struggling in part because they don’t trust someone without an ulterior motive. They don’t trust Superman to not stab them in the back. That’s something that Lex Luthor exploits. Clark’s burden is that he needs to prove himself trustworthy in an untrustworthy world.

That right there is a story. That right there is an adventure. It’s true to the 87 year history of the character, and it’s true to the movie, the story that Gunn is telling in a two hour runtime. That’s something that can capture the character and the idea all at once. Something that can provide friction, and that can get children to look up in hope. They can be that good. They can fly.

It’s a difficult feat. But I think it’s something nerds and normals alike will appreciate.

Mickey Barnes is a loser. That’s what everyone tells him. He’s recycled waste. He’s garbage. He’s a test dummy. He’s lesser. He’s unsophisticated. He’s expendable. After hearing it over and over, it’s also what he tells himself.

Director Bong Joon-Ho has always played with satire. Poking fun at how we think we’re above the systems we live in, and showing how those systems keep us in these cycles of abuse. Memories of Murder shows how the detectives are held back by their own ineptitude and the lack of systemic support for their investigation. Snowpiercer’s climax is an argument about weather our system of oppression is self sustaining, and if we’re doomed if we break the cycle. Parasite won best picture after showing how capitalism fuels the anxieties of those at the bottom and the top of its hierarchy.

Director Bong’s latest work Mickey 17 is no different from his prior works. It uses sci-fi cloning to show how workers are seen as expendable, and how capitalism keeps them in oppressive cycles that devalue their worth. “He signed up for this.” “It’s his job.”

But I think that what people have overlooked in the latest film, is not what Bong says about cycles of dictatorship, capitalism and colonialism, (those metaphors are present and obvious) but the ways in which cycles of abuse effect the people experiencing the abuse. And how those individuals get out of it.

Mickey Barnes (Robert Pattinson) is down on his luck. He’s been without a family for most of his life. His mother died in a car crash he blames himself for, and he’s wandered earth looking for some comfort. His “friend” Timo (Steven Yeun) has had several schemes to get them ahead in life, until they get caught by loan sharks who demand payment with interest, or a death recorded in 32K. Mickey and Timo choose to leave for the planet Nifelheim instead. But while Timo can talk his way into a job he’s unqualified for, Mickey doesn’t think he’s worthy enough to be valued as a member of the interplanetary expedition. Instead, he gets on the ship by signing up to be expendable.

Mickey will now be the colony’s guinea pig. It’s crash test dummy. It’s proleteriat. He’s been scanned into the system, and will be cloned and reborn every time he dies. So he’ll be the test for radiation, vaccines, expeditions, you name it. He’ll do it with a faux smile on his face.

This is all in the name of spreading the human race to new frontiers. The failed politician Kennith Marshall (Mark Ruffalo) rules the colony with an iron fist. He manages labor, counts calories, dictates relationships, all in the name of the betterment of the colony. It’s all for the good of the colony. It’s for Mickey’s own good. He’s being useful.

The cycles continue as Mickey’s body count racks up. 6, 8, 11, 14, 16. Whenever he suffers, he believes it’s punishment for something he did. He believes that by suffering for others, he’s paying back his debt. Everyone treats him like shit. He’s reborn from recycled matter after all. So he learns to believe it. Why else would he be suffering so?

The only person who seems to value Mickey for Mickey, is Nasha.

Nasha (Naomi Ackie) is a fellow passenger on the interstellar ship. From day one, they form a connection. They fall in love, and have sex despite the strict regulations that Marshall puts on such strenuous caloric activities. Despite the fact that Mickey is mistreated by everyone else on the ship, despite the fact that Mickey is literally made to suffer, she finds value in him. She comes back to the new Mickey whenever he’s reprinted. She defends him when he’s bullied. She comforts him when he suffers.

For all of the sociopolitical commentary in the film, the allusions to Scientology, Kim Jong-Un, colonialism, the red hats, Mickey doesn’t begin his journey of self discovery with some ideological awakening, but with another person finding value in him despite the lies he tells himself.

Upon landing on the planet, Mickey, on his 17th reprinting starts dying in quick succession. He gets blamed for the death of a fellow colonist when she tries to kill one of the native “creepers” and is sent out into the cold with less rations until he can bring back a creeper as punishment.

He finds one, and despite his pleas that he’s “good meat” the creepers don’t want to eat him. We later learn that they found value in him and decided to save him. He’s copied and the plot goes into full gear when he returns to the ship to discover that a new Mickey 18 has been living on the ship for several hours. Mickey 18 has been reprinted incorrectly, and acts in a psychotic way, but in a way where he stands up for himself. Unlike all the Mickeys before him, Mickey 18 is mad. Mad at Timo, mad at Marshall, mad at everyone who treated him like trash. Who treated him as disposable. But he’s mad at Mickey 17 most of all. Who thanks Marshall and everyone else for the abuse he suffers.

Mickey 18 is the one version of Mickey that doesn’t blame himself. He’s the one version that sees through everyone else’s bullshit. He’s the one version that will call out Mickey 17’s bullshit.

Once Mickey can see that other’s see his worthiness, despite his own self deprecating thoughts, he can learn to see how his suffering isn’t his fault. He can lean that he’s lovable, that his perspective and empathy is valuable to others. That he doesn’t need to be disposed of to be valuable to the colony.

Human society can’t be solved. It can be improved, but despite the grand theories and ambitions, we’ve failed to make the systems that run our lives work for everyone. We scapegoat, we exploit, we are blind to our own faults. Mickey 17 has all of the societal critiques in all of Bong Joon-Ho’s films, but what’s interesting about it, is that the arc of the film is more about Mickey than about the society he’s a part of.

We have a lot of problems to solve as a society. We need to learn how to recreate our systems to value each other instead of treating each other as expendable. But in order to move forward, we need to learn how to love each other. To break the cycles of abuse in our personal lives, and stop telling ourselves lies that others tell us to keep us down.

Mickey 17 is a film full to the brim with ideas. But it’s glue, the arc that keeps the film together in one big, beautiful narrative arc, is that of Mickey Barnes, learning that he can eventually stand up for himself and break the cycle of abuse. Learning from friends and lovers, that he has worth. Learning that his suffering isn’t his fault, and that he can love and be happy. And that’s ok.