Perrier LaPadite: This Is Not a Pipe

The Nazi Version of a Measuring Stick

“Et tu, Brute?”― William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar

“To err is human; to forgive, divine” — Alexander Pope

The heat is hellish in the blistering, summer sun. The camera pans from the rolling French countryside to focus on a wide shot of Perrier LaPadite attempting to break down a stump to no avail. As the scene progresses in a play-like manner, we hear the whir of car engines and the irrefutable sound of gravel being crunched beneath tires. One of Perrier’s daughters pulls back the white sheet, which functions as the curtain of a theatre, to reveal the caravan of SS marked cars headed straight for their home. The cars inch closer: closer to the man whose hair on the back of his neck is standing at terrified attention, closer to the kitchen whose floors house a life-threatening secret, closer to the family whose survival lies in the hands of the man whose family is now free-falling into the clutches of the SS, into the clutches of certain death, into the clutches of The Jew Hunter.

Quentin Tarantino’s Inglorious Basterds chronicles the vengeful adventures of an Allied-sanctioned hit squad and their pursuit of vigilante justice against the Nazi regime. Despite the macabre story that will follow, Tarantino’s tale begins in the rolling countryside of France, in the home of Perrier LaPadite, played by Denis Menochet. The entire scene depicting this interaction is shot with a play-like structure beginning with the wide angle shot of LaPadite chopping wood until Shoshanna’s escape from the Nazi death squad. Tarantino’s craft is masterful to an extent that no shot or prop is accidental. We can see that LaPadite is attempting to break down the wooden stump with an axe, but is making no progress whatsoever. This shot is placed directly before the Nazi trespassers are unveiled as a symbol of LaPadite’s futile efforts to conceal the Dreyfusis family. The fruitlessness of his physical labors in this endeavor will mirror the fruitlessness of his heroic efforts to hide the Dreyfusis family from certain death via the Nazi regime.

Quentin Tarantino never went to film school. He never really “considered himself a writer,” but his use of detail is profound. The opening scene features two pipes, but are they really pipes? Surrealist painter, René Margritte is most known for his work, The Treachery of Images.

The painting simply features a pipe with the inscription, “Ceci n’est pas une pipe,” which translates to, “This is not a pipe.” Indicative of surrealism, this painting focuses on the idea that nothing is ever as it seems. When questioned about his work, Margritte replied, “It’s just a representation, is it not? So if I had written on my picture ‘This is a pipe,’ I’d have been lying.” Much like this surrealist work, Landa’s pipe is not a pipe. Tarantino’s use of props is much too intricate for a pipe to simply be a pipe; It is a representation of LaPadite’s inadequacy and impotence against Landa.

When LaPadite reveals his pipe to be small, wooden, and modest; Landa cannot help but comparatively reveal his pipe to be enormous in comparison and obviously very costly. This is the World War II, Nazi high-command edition of a measuring stick. He is saying, in his own way, ‘Mine is bigger than yours.’ This is immature. This is not in the character of Landa. This is the id revealed. Famous psychoanalyst, Sigmund Freud denotes all phallic obsession and symbolism to the conflict of the id versus the ego. Stuck in the third stage of psychoanalytic development, Landa cannot help but prove his manhood against LaPadite. While this action may seem juvenile and harmless, it can hold great consequence to a man whose daughters stand twenty feet away, surrounded by Landa’s minions. Landa is threatening LaPadite’s daughters sexually. He is telling him that he has the power to do with them whatever he wants; he is the stronger and superior man in this household now.

The ostentatious acting, coupled with the cinematic design of a play, lends favor to Christoph Waltz, who plays Hans Landa. The shot choices in this scene are long, drawn out, and wide angled; choices that lend themselves to a plays structure rather than a film. Christoph Waltz originally began his career studying in Austrian Theatre. Therefore, Tarantino chose longer takes to not only add tension to the scene, but to allow Waltz the space he needed to magnify his role and advance Landa’s exaggerated and insane personality to take on a life of his own.

It is clear from the first second that Landa enters the home of Perrier LaPadite that violence will follow whatever conversation is to be had here. Not only is it the character of the Nazi regime to end all conversations in some form of violence, but it is also in the character of Quentin Tarantino to have some form on violence accompany the meeting of two opposing forces. This fight was over before it even began. Long shots, deeply meaningful prop choices (i.e. pipes, stumps, and axes), have foretold the fate of this scene since its conception; however, we are still appalled when LaPadite gives away the location of the Dreyfusis family. We cast him as the betrayer, the Nazi-collaborator. We would never give up a family to the clutches of the SS. We are better than that; our morals would not stand for such worm-like indecency.

LaPadite’s plight deserves compassion, but are we willing to give it to him? Throughout history, we cast our scorn upon those who have betrayed others. It is easy to hate people like Stella Kubler; she was a Jew who when turned in to the Gestapo chose to become a spy against her own people rather than face deportation to a concentration camp herself. Even when the SS murdered her family and husband, she continued to serve them loyal and proudly proclaimed herself an anti-Semitic. We can cast her as the villain without a speck of guilt in our hearts. Contrarily, we know people like Oscar Schindler. Schindler, a German and comrade of the SS, set up a faux factory where he employed over a thousand Jews in order to save them from deportation to concentration camps. We, as Americans, consider his actions to be heroic, but in the eyes of Nazi Germany, this man in a traitor. The term is truly controversial based upon its giver and audience. A traitor is never just a traitor. There is always a story.

LaPadite betrayed the Dreyfusis family upon Landa’s entry to his home, but this betrayal was only occurred in order to secure his own family’s safety. Landa himself stated that “your family will cease to be harassed in anyway by the German military during the rest of our occupation of your country.” The ensured safety of his family was in his grasp and still we call him a traitor. In the eyes of the SS, LaPadite was a confused man who, in the end, did what was right. We, however, label him a coward and spit upon his moral backbone because of his betrayal. Would we not betray our own friends in order to save the ones we truly hold most dear?

Throughout history, writers and critics alike have shared their opinions on betrayers and their inevitable punishment. Dante candidly reveals his own opinions about betrayal through his depiction of the Fourth Ring of the Ninth Circle of Hell is his inferno, Judecca. Judecca is the place where Satan lives, an ice world where the worst of all the sinners spend eternity in their agony. There in the mouth of Lucifer himself, lie the three most nefarious sinners of all time: Judas, Brutus, and Cassius. All three of these men betrayed their masters and friends in order to bring about their deaths. LaPadite is not unlike these men, yet we place him in a different category of sin because we can empathize with his betrayal; we too would sin in this way. Would we not? But is betrayal truly a sin if it brings about redemption? Judas betrayed Jesus to Jewish officials, but this betrayal brought about the redemption of the world. Brutus and Cassius betrayed Julius Ceaser, but their betrayal ended the dictatorial reign over an entire continent. Perrier LaPadite betrayed the Dreyfusis family, but his betrayal lead to the death of the entire high-ranking Nazi regime.

So, who is truly guilty? Do we blame the man who betrayed the Drefuysis family in order to save his own, the man who followed orders of his commanding officers and murdered the family where they laid, or God for allowing such treacherous behavior to plague the world? The answer is unclear. Inglourious Basterds, has been called many things: a commentary on modern day terrorism, a classic revenge drama, a fairy-tale spin on a spaghetti western. Tarantino, however, says this: “I’ve never put any roadblocks on any of these paths. My characters can go wherever they would naturally go, and I’ll follow them.” Inglourious Basterds, in its truest sense, is a commentary on humanity, an unfiltered and candid portrayal of people at their darkest.

Perrier LaPadite is the portrayal of humanity when it stands between two impossible barriers. He is forced to choose the lesser evil between two maleficent paths. If Perrier LaPadite is a traitor, then we all are. Will we now cast our blame upon this man? His betrayal was one of human error rather than malicious intent. It just so happened that this error brought about the fictional end of one of the bloodiest wars to date. With this scene, Tarantino asks his audience to align their accusations and decide upon whom they will place their blame. Now it is our turn to choose: Et tu, Brute?

Works Cited:

Alighieri, Dante. Dante’s Inferno. N.p.: n.p., n.d. Print.

“Diana Tovar: The Story of Stella Goldschlag.” Diana Tovar: The Story of Stella Goldschlag. N.p., n.d. Web. 03 Apr. 2016.

The Editors of Encyclopædia Britannica. “Judas Iscariot.” Encyclopedia Britannica Online. Encyclopedia Britannica, n.d. Web. 03 Apr. 2016.

Shakespeare, William. The Tragedy of Julius Caesar. New Haven: Yale UP, 1919. Print.

Tarantino, Quentin. “The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb).” Inglourious Basterds Script at IMSDb. N.p., n.d. Web. 03 Apr. 2016.