Few movies released this summer have aroused as much critical debate as “Inglourious Basterds.” Celebrated by some as a masterful return to form by its genius of a director, attacked by others for its immaturity and inhumanity, the movie has received little neutral sentiment.

That “Inglourious Basterds” would attract great debate is unsurprising. Director Quentin Tarantino, the enfant terrible of Hollywood, has always attracted criticism for the violence and racism with which his characters go about their lives. World War Two era France, the setting for his latest film, brings with it inherent controversy. This is only strengthened by a cast of characters that includes a Nazi Jew-Hunter, a Jewish fugitive intent on exacting revenge on her German oppressors, and a battalion of Jewish soldiers whose sole purpose is to kill (and scalp) as many Nazi soldiers as possible. Its morals are indeed at times debatable, but its numerous merits are not.

The eponymous Nazi hunters (led by Lt. Aldo Raine, played by the excellent Brad Pitt) provide much of the film’s entertainment value but are not its most interesting feature. The most remarkable strand of the plot follows the unnervingly charming SS Colonel Hans Landa (Christoph Waltz) in his quest to hunt down the Jews of France. The opening scene of the movie consists of little more than a 15-minute long conversation between Landa and a French dairy farmer, Perrier LaPadite. Slowly and inevitably, Landa breaks down LaPadite’s resistance, reducing him to a quivering wreck and forcing him to surrender the Jewish family hiding in his cellar to be slaughtered. The brutality of the scene is shocking, but the power of Waltz’s performance and the tension of the dialogue make it a superb opening.

The acting is flawless across the cast (has there ever been a poor performance in a Tarantino movie?); Waltz has rightly received the majority of the plaudits for his stunning and terrifyingly likeable portrayal of Landa, but there are numerous other standouts. Mélanie Laurent particularly shines as Shosanna Dreyfus, the only survivor of the opening massacre, convincingly alternating between terror at the prospect of encountering Landa and extraordinary bitterness at the way she has been treated by the Germans.

As much as the characters contribute, the small details and Tarantino’s directorial vision are what make “Inglourious Basterds” so enjoyable. Samuel L. Jackson’s voiceover on the flammability of nitrate films, the brash and always entertaining soundtrack—highlighted by David Bowie’s “Cat People (Putting Out Fire)”—the numerous nods to film history, and many other minor but entertaining additions help make the film feel more vibrant and imaginative than any Tarantino flick since “Pulp Fiction.”

Despite all these triumphs, however, the movie still lays itself open to criticism on numerous fronts. It is quite clear, however, that Tarantino could not care less. Yes, the violence is unnecessary. Yes, the plot disregards historical accuracy. Yes, the significance of Jews killing Nazis is completely unexplored and the moral questions it raises wholly unanswered. But these issues are not what “Inglourious Basterds” is about. As with all his movies, Tarantino sets out to entertain his viewers, to pay homage to his favorite films, and to have fun. He does not make deep movies, and has no interest in delivering any kind of message. “Inglourious Basterds” may be lightweight, but that is only appropriate for yet another feather in Tarantino’s illustrious cap.

—Staff writer Chris R. Kingston can be reached at kingston@fas.harvard.edu.