INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS may in some sense wish to provoke but ultimately it is more interested in pandering. This is Tarantino at his most cartoonish and pop revisionist. He is always quite skilled at engineering dramatic situations and writing quotable dialogue, but here everything seems perfunctory and glib. It could almost be framed as a geopolitical rape-revenge film. It is addressed to our baser selves.
The opening and Fassbender in the bar, are two of the strongest scenes Tarantino has ever done. The rest of the movie is a complete mess tonally, and the climax confirmed my suspicions that Tarantino had devolved from a cinematic director with schlock influences, to a schlock director with cinematic influences. He just can't help himself, and his post Jackie Brown output, suffers from that.