Academy of the Overrated is a column which seeks to reassess highly-praised art and artists through a more critical lens in response to entertainment news.

What do you get when you mix Brad Pitt, Spaghetti Westerns, Nazi-occupied France and B.J. Novak? Apparently you get the upcoming Quentin Tarantino movie Inglourious Basterds. The trailer for the movie premiered on Entertainment Tonight last Wednesday, and the film promises to be as bloody and profane as Tarantino’s previous works. The film follows Lt. Aldo Raine (Pitt) and eight Jewish-American soldiers on their mission to terrorize Nazis and collect their scalps.

Tarantino consistently produces quality entertainment. He knows more about the movies than most of us could ever hope, and he has yet to direct a bad film — I would willingly watch Pulp Fiction or Jackie Brown any day. However, that does not mean he has made a genuine masterpiece or that he is the 12th greatest director of all time, above Jean Renoir whose work influenced the likes of Citizen Kane director Orson Welles.

Tarantino has somehow emerged as the torchbearer for independent filmmakers, with Pulp Fiction hailed as “the most influential American movie of the 90s” and as a cult classic. He was even the head of the jury for the 2004 Cannes Film Festival, a position indicative of his appeal to movie watchers other than American fan-boys. Yet, he has not proven himself as the movie-making master he is often made out to be.

The greatest filmmakers were all able to experiment and master cinematic technique in order to convey important truths about the world in which we live. For Renoir, the camera was both a paintbrush for the silver screen canvas and a weapon against societal ills. But for Tarantino, it is merely a toy. As much as I admire Tarantino’s work, he often struggles to reconcile his attempts at mature filmmaking with his violent antics and obsession with pop culture. We have yet to see if he is capable of delivering a great film with a sense of balance, and Inglourious Basterds does not look to be that film.

The Tradeoff

The 1994 flick Pulp Fiction was produced by Tarantino’s production company, A Band Apart, named after the 1964 Jean-Luc Godard film, a film which influenced Tarantino’s style with its unconventional, postmodern approach to filmmaking. However, naming the production company after Godard’s film was an unfortunate move for two main reasons. First of all, what I am sure was meant as a compliment was shot down by Godard, who said of the homage, “He’d have done better to give me some money.” Secondly, it inevitably leads to comparisons to Godard, an all-time master of the cinema.

On the surface, Godard and Tarantino have a surprising amount in common. They both include frequent references to pop culture in their work, and their films are characterized by self-reflexivity and unconventional structures. However, the differences cut much deeper. When Godard used jump cuts and referenced Humphrey Bogart in his 1960 masterpiece Breathless, it was to set up the film as a parable about the death of an American ideal. Godard always has a sense of purpose when he experiments with his films. Tarantino certainly has a great understanding of cinematic aesthetic, yet unlike Godard, he does not effectively employ these skills in order to say something important.

This is not to say he hasn’t made attempts to convey thematic messages. In fact, Pulp Fiction is essentially a collection of moral tales in which lowlife characters experience redemption in the city of Los Angeles. Unfortunately, when Tarantino aspires to having any sort of substance, it often comes off as contrived or forced. Perhaps his cheapest device was Bruce Willis riding away on a motorcycle labeled “Grace” after being forgiven his debts by mob boss Ving Rhames. This cute detail reveals the limited sophistication of Tarantino’s writing, explicitly stating a key thematic element of the film. Either this, or “Grace” is supposed to be tongue-in-cheek, and Tarantino is simply unable to take on such a subject without smirking at us.

His next work, 1997’s Jackie Brown, was a change for the better. To me, this is Tarantino’s best film because of the level of maturity and character development. However, this film was not as well-received as Pulp Fiction, and I believe this is largely because it is simply not as memorable or refreshingly bold. For all its flaws, the 1994 film did have the Royale with Cheese, the Wolf and, of course, Honey Bunny and Pumpkin. For Tarantino, there is an apparent tradeoff between his ability to entertain audiences and the development of story and characters.

Janet Maslin of The New York Times said Jackie Brown “isn’t sharp enough to afford all the time it wastes on small talk, long drives, trips to the mall and favorite songs played on car radios.” While I personally felt these elements worked in this particular film, Maslin hints at a larger problem: Tarantino’s apparent inability to restrain himself. In Death Proof, the far superior half of the double feature Grindhouse, Rosario Dawson, Tracie Thoms and Zoe Bell simply sat around a table and talked for an extended period of time about pop culture and sex, showing off Tarantino’s dialogue-writing skills. It is apparent he has a gift for writing natural-sounding dialogue. Yet as Tarantino’s pop culture-saturated style has become so familiar to audiences, it borders on self-parody in the movie when the conversation continues on and on for far too long. After all, audiences can sit through diversions about obscure B films for only so long.

Tarantino is tackling heavier subject material with Inglourious Basterds, so he might be forced once again to say something “important” in what appears to be a high-energy, bloodthirsty event. We understood long ago that the feature film follow-up to Kill Bill was going to be an indication of whether or not Tarantino is mature enough to be named as one of the greats as he so often is, but judging by the Inglourious Basterds trailer, it look like this is not the case. I will probably watch it on opening night, and I will probably end up choosing one film from my complete Tarantino DVD collection to watch with friends beforehand just for fun. He knows how to entertain, but he lacks the versatility and maturity to be considered a true master.

Josh Schwartz ruined my life.

At the least, the ingenious producer has severely damaged my romantic one. He just keeps inventing the most perfect men, the most idyllic situations and taunts me with what’s realistically implausible. Guys like Gossip Girl’s Nate Archibald don’t walk around the corner and whisk you away despite being 10 times prettier than you are. And sure, I love Schwartz for giving me something to obsess about weekly and talk about obsessively with people just as obsessed as I am. The man’s invented the perfect formula for getting people hooked on his little guilty pleasures. But that’s exactly the problem: getting hooked.

Seth Cohen, played by Adam Brody, is the one who started it all. Photo by sheksay on flickr, licensed under the Creative Commons.

The Josh Schwartzes of the world have created unrealistic expectations in girls everywhere, causing a general state of displeasure and disillusionment. It’s difficult for people to be happy with their lives when weekly depictions of romantic perfection are shoved in their faces. And although you should be watching purely for entertainment, it’s difficult to stop yourself from feeling a little distressed. For when the line between reality and Schwartz-ality begins to blur, you will find yourself quite dissatisfied with the normal state of things.

I’d like to say it started a few years ago with the whole The O.C. craze. To be honest, I resisted the show for a while. After all, the show’s premise sounded horrible: a bunch of rich, pretty California teens who frequently emo-out. Sadly, I can pinpoint the exact moment I changed my mind. It was the moment that Adam Brody walked onto my television screen and into my heart.

Suffice it to say, I fell deeply in love with Seth Cohen. Oh Seth Cohen. With his adorable Jew-fro, love for all things indie and snappy witticisms, he represented the perfect man… although in hindsight he was whiny, self-absorbed and dumped his girlfriend for arbitrary reasons. Being ridiculously good-looking helped mask those character flaws, as it usually does. A pretty face will do wonders for dressing up an imperfect situation, something the Schwartzes understand very well and use to entrance silly girls like me.

Regardless, his entire story was perfectly adorable: in love with a girl named Summer since his early childhood, too shy to ever speak to her, but then through the power of Schwartz-magic, they get together with a dramatic love confession atop a coffee cart. Such grand gestures are rare, practically non-existent, in real life, but they’re the kind that people fantasize about. Many girls dream about being swept off their feet with a bold and unforgettable act. And sure, Seth and Summer’s relationship was kind of bad, with the whole on-again/off-again cycle, but you always rooted for them to get back together. On-and-off couples — the paradoxically ideal American relationship. In real life, they’re illogical and looked down upon. But stick it on a screen with a little background music, and it becomes utterly romantic.

I’d sit there with friends, and we’d collectively squeal over how cute it was, and then bemoan the fact that there were no guys like that in real life, and we’d probably all die alone out of dissatisfaction with our current romantic lives. It should’ve ended there, with the bemoaning. But I subconsciously started to seek my own Seth Cohen.

My current obsession is Gossip Girl’s Chuck Bass, played by Ed Westwick. Photo by angela n. on flickr, licensed under the Creative Commons.

I became increasingly attracted to skinny artists with dark curly hair. Although that had always been my type, Seth Cohen pushed my preference into a borderline obsession. When that category proved too narrow, I broadened my sights to dark curly haired guys in general. My boyfriend at the time, an unfortunate blonde, was not amused.

To this day, I’ve noticed my preferences shift according to whatever persona I’m enamored with at the time. For instance, I’m currently fascinated by one Chuck Bass. I know that beneath that Byronic facade, he really just wants to be loved — an oddly romantic concept. But the Seth-Cohen-type will always have a special place in my heart, as it was the one that started it all.

But dissatisfaction is the key term here. Too much of pop culture involves an unrealistic romance, loaded with the cutest possible gestures and acts specifically thought up to drive you crazy. Just think about all the crazed females and what they’ve been obsessed with over the years.

The Notebook was intensely popular for a while. Everyone wanted to find ‘their Noah’ — the kiss in the rain has practically become iconic. Nicholas Sparks in general has been a soothing read for middle-aged housewives craving a little romanticism in their bland realities. A friend of mine claims Sparks “ruined her life by telling her true love exists.” Case closed.

Am I claiming that pop-culture has destroyed people’s sanity in the quest for the perfect romance? Yes, or at least it’s contributed heavily to the cause. I mean, how many times have you been watching a show or reading a book and thought “Why not meeee? Why will this never happen in real life?” Doesn’t every girl deserve her happy ending? Yes, but unfortunately perfection only exists in Josh Schwartz’s mind. And he takes a perverse pleasure in destroying it.

I’m not the kind of person you’d look at and think, “I bet she’s a black belt.” I’m a short, skinny white girl majoring in journalism whose idea of an “awesome” Saturday night is watching the entire Back to the Future trilogy back-to-back-to-back.

Oh yeah, and to top off that nerdiness, I’m a Scooby; that’s what we hardcore Buffy the Vampire Slayer fans call ourselves. It’s an in-joke — if you get it, you’re one of us.

I became addicted to Buffy the summer after the first season aired, watching reruns on the now-defunct WB. At the time, I was gearing up for the fourth grade, and watching a group of nerds kick vampire ass made me feel incredibly grown up: Buffy wasn’t on Disney or Nickelodeon and was thus a very “adult” show in my eyes.

I’d like to say the strong, kick-ass female who killed the undead with her martial arts skills was what appealed to me, but a feminist appreciation for Joss Whedon’s brainchild wasn’t something I consciously acknowledged during the early years of my love for Buffy. I was drawn, at first, to the fast-paced witty dialogue and, I think, to the fact that HQ was the kind of library I always wished existed in my hometown, but could never find — which might explain why I spend such a ridiculous amount of time in Deering.

The lasting effects of my Buffy addiction are numerous: a box of memorabilia under my bed at home, retrospectively creepy elementary school drawings of Buffy standing victorious over exploding vampires, my dog (named “Xander” after one of the show’s main characters) — but one in particular actually gives me great pride: my black belt in Tae Kwon Do.

For a long time, somewhere in the back of my mind, I held out a hope that maybe the fantasies I was so engrossed in were real. I remember being terribly disappointed that I never received my letter from Hogwarts. Eventually, I outgrew the ability to really believe in the fantasy worlds, but even though I accepted that I wasn’t going to be called as the Chosen One and that vampires weren’t living in romantic basement-apartments, Buffy still seemed like a hero to me. I realized that, unlike Harry Potter, who without the fantasy was just a nerdy orphan, Buffy Summers was pretty amazing even without the help of the Powers That Be.

At around this time (seventh grade or season five of Buffy, for those of you keeping track), the feminist “girl power” admiration I mentioned earlier finally started to kick in. Suddenly, I felt an intense desire to be able to kick something’s ass.

My first attempt at studying the martial arts was short-lived. I joined an after-school class at my middle school, the instructor of which was more interested in showing his pupils off at competitions than in our development. Several months later, in eighth grade, a new school opened right down the road from my house, in a gymnastics facility. The instructor was young and goofy, not at all what I thought a martial artist should be like… which I guess was a strange combination of Jackie Chan, Mr. Miyagi and Giles from Buffy.

Mike, who preferred be addressed by his first name any time formal class wasn’t in progress, didn’t fit the bill of my imagined Frankenstein instructor, but he made Tae Kwon Do feel very personally mine. Because I wasn’t receiving the pop culture version of instruction I’d expected, Tae Kwon Do became, in my mind, something unique that only I was doing. The extremely small class I was a part of helped feed that feeling, I’m sure.

It took me about four years to earn my black belt. For those of you still keeping a time line, I earned my black belt two years after Buffy ended its run. I dedicated as many years to Tae Kwon Do as I did to high school and as I am now to my Northwestern diploma. Earning my black belt is easily my proudest non-academic accomplishment and, to be honest, it beats out most of the academic ones, but I rarely think about it.

When presented with the task to think of an element of pop culture that had changed my life, Tae Kwon Do didn’t enter my mind immediately. Actually, it took most of the quarter for me to even think about it. For something that I’m very proud of, I rarely think about my accomplishments in Tae Kwon Do and I almost never talk about them.

When I started martial arts lessons, I really did just want to be able to kick someone’s ass; the whole “personal growth” aspect was actually a huge turnoff. By the time I got my black belt, I knew I could kick someone’s ass, but those “personal growth” things were ingrained and more important to the ass-kicking part than I’d ever thought they would be. The five tenants of Tae Kwon Do that my young, “cool” instructor required we recite weekly — courtesy, integrity, perseverance, self-control and indomitable spirit — are still etched on my brain and I’m sure they nag at me unconsciously with every decision I make.

Looking back, I don’t feel like I spent that long taking lessons, but it feels like much longer than two and a half years have passed since I stopped. Even though it’s no longer a weekly part of my life, I have absolutely no doubt that I’m a different person than I would be without Tae Kwon Do and, as an extension of that, without Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I mean, seriously, I’ve broken two-inch thick boards with the palm of my hand — if that doesn’t build character and confidence, I don’t know what does.

It is in this humble blogger’s opinion that Sarah and George were never together. Why? Because I truly believe in my heart of hearts that Mr. Clooney is gay. I simply don’t believe that a man that gorgeous, smart, charming and sexy would ever be caught dead with a Sarah Lawson. I mean, seriously, if George wanted a woman, who’s stopping him from a Christy Turlington (’90s supermodel and cum laude NYU graduate) or a Michelle Pfeiffer in her heyday? He could have his pick of the litter. So in conclusion, Mr. Clooney’s PR rep needs to do a better job next time in picking out Clooney’s lady love.

Lindsay and Samantha have been seen in Cannes holding hands, kissing on P.Diddy’s yacht and LiLo has been spotted wearing what looks like an engagement ring. And according to a blogger for New York Post, the two have reportedly moved in together. Lindsay’s mom, the infamous Dina Lohan, has denied the rumors that the two are together, claiming they’re simply best friends. Maybe it’s true, but I find that best gal pals don’t go on European vacations together and give each other hickeys.

Maybe coming out as a lesbian would be a good move for Lindsay, although realistically I think she would only ever admit to being bi. Since nothing else has been going on with LiLo besides a guest appearance on Ugly Betty and stealing a fur coat, maybe this is the right time to reveal to the world that she loves the ladies.

Pete Wentz and Ashlee Simpson were wedded Saturday night in Joe and Tina Simpson’s Encino estate in California.

Obviously my invitation got lost in the mail, and I am pissed. Here are the details in case you weren’t able to attend either:

The wedding theme was “Alice In Wonderland,” much classier than “I’m pregnant and my album is doing really badly.” Ashlee wore a wedding dress by designer de jour, Monique Lhuillier.

There were around 150 people in attendance, including Nicole Richie, Joel Madden, CaCee Cobb (sis Jessica’s BFF), and actor Donald Faison. Jessica was the maid of honor, and her ex Tony Romo, showed up as her date. Dad Joe Simpson performed the non-denominational ceremony, and Pete Wentz’s bulldog was the ring bearer. What a cute family affair.

To be honest, these two seem like they have a chance (and by a chance I mean maybe they won’t get a divorce in less than two years.) They’ve been dating since 2006 and have tons of stuff in common, like their love of Japanese Hair Straightening. Ashlee has yet to confirm whether or not she’s pregnant, but, I mean… come on.

I feel bad, but to be honest, her stock has gone down in the past few years. She hasn’t released a hit in what feels like forever, her latest movie was straight to DVD, and she’s been hawking hair extensions and Proactiv Acne Solution… not so hot.

What led to the break-up has yet to be determined. Maybe it had something to do with the June ‘08 Glamour profile piece, in which Jessica talked about her relationship for half of the article.

“What he’s done for me is irreplaceable,” Simpson says about her newfound confidence. “It feels like forever,” she says about the months they’ve been together. “I love this guy. Can you feel it?”

“He reintroduced me to myself. I thought that I had to be deeper, more profound and more artsy. You change with the guys you date. [I thought] I had to be more intellectual. Come on—just be yourself! Tony taught me that because he loves me [as me]. He made me feel comfortable [being myself] again.”

Now, I’m not a relationship expert, but I can tell you right now that if I was Tony, this would be a major turnoff. Thus I’d go running into the arms of these Jessica look-a-likes, much like he did the other night.

Update, 3:57 p.m.: Facebook seems to have closed off the down-arrow thing, but try entering “.” in your search box. The results seem to be the same.

Since it was posted around 1 p.m., the post has received more than 200 comments and counting.

Here’s what popped up on my account, in order:

1. A random boy who I briefly had a crush on back in Winter Quarter. I’d forgotten about him until now… but it appears he might not have forgotten about me. If this whole hullaballoo is true, that is. The appearance of this name is the most convincing evidence for me that these are people searching for you, since I haven’t searched this name frequently or recently.
2. My BFF and future roommate. This could go either way, since we both probably search for each other somewhat frequently.
3. My current roomie. Since she’s awesome, I know I search for her occasionally, and I’d guess she does the same for me. Again, inconclusive.
4. My editor…hmm. This is interesting. I wouldn’t have picked her out as someone I search for often on Facebook, or as someone who searches for me on Facebook. But it’s plausible, and could go either way.
5. Another boy…sigh! Someone who I search for with some frequency, probably too much frequency, but would be surprised if he was searching for me. Surprised, but delighted, I might add.

From this list, I can say somewhat conclusively that these are not the five people you search for most often. The evidence? My best friend from home, who I know I search more often than most if not all of these people, is markedly absent from the list. And someone who I search for hardly or never is present. The mystery thickens..what significance do these five people have? One commenter hypothesized that it is “matching the frequency of times that you search for someone with the frequency of times that people search for you,” which may in fact be the most plausible theory.

Another commenter corroborated this, citing a supposed “canned response” from a Facebook employee, which stated that the five names are the people Facebook assumes you would be most interested in, taking various factors into account.

Now for the most important question: will the two ever make it down the aisle? Hate to be a Debbie Downer, but I’m going to have to say no on this one for two good reasons:

1. This is not Ryan’s first time in marriage land. Ryan dated Alanis Morissette for two years before getting engaged. The engagement lasted for three years until they called it off in February 2007. That is not reassuring.
2. Scarlett doesn’t really seem like she’s ready to settle down. She’s 23 and really hot. Apparently she’s hooked up with Benicio Del Toro in an elevator. And she has gone on the record saying that monogamy is “hard work” and that she doesn’t find having one sexual partner natural. That is not reassuring.

I suppose only time will tell if wedding bells are really in the future. In the meantime let’s wish them luck, and hope they sign a pre-nup.

Photos have surfaced confirming speculation that Jennifer Aniston and John Mayer are dating. I’m not going to lie, John and Jen look good together– but maybe it’s just their beach bodies talking. I’m sure they bond over his chick music or her unforgettable role as Mark Walhberg‘s girlfriend in the classic “Rock Star,” but I personally never really understood the whole John Mayer craze. Don’t get me wrong, if he asked me out I’d totally say yes– but he’s still a lothario who has dated Jennifer Love Hewitt, Cameron Diaz, Jessica Simpson, Heidi Klum, and Minka Kelly just to name a few. You are not going to be able to tie this one down!

You may be a serial dater, too, Jen, but it’s time you settled down (someone else has…) You need to start thinking about new prospective husbands. Or better yet, good movie roles. I could see you in a Woody Allen comedy. I’d say that if there hasn’t been a career resurgence in two year, you might want to start looking at TV pilots. Something edgy, maybe on Showtime. But whatever you do, no adoptions, okay?