Death Proof

Death Proof is a cool flick full of boring girl talk and AMAZING, visceral car chases and stunts. I would expect more in the dialogue department from my beloved Tarantino; however, he (once again) pleasantly surprised me with the dynamic action of the car scenes. Kurt Russell is great and the director’s inside jokes for those familiar with his work are even better (the two policemen, the ring tone of Abernathy’s cell phone, Kurt winking at the camera, etc.) Maybe, however, Quentin should have followed Russ Meyer’s example and cast some bustier ladies so that the movie would be the “perfect” representative of the feminist exploitation genre. Let’s see what the 110-minute version will bring, but because of the dumb dialogue, I’m not willing to forgive, so I’m sticking with three stars. P.S.: Rosario Dawson is very pretty. (07/09/2007)

As a full-fledged film it’s essentially useless, and that was not expected from Tarantino. Grindhouse excels exactly in what it should, to pay perfect homage to all possible B-movie genres and older films. You can expect amazing gimmicks (old picture, sound distortion, Kurt winking at the camera), which, mixed with quality ingredients (an excellently insane plot and stylish execution), create a decently entertaining appetizer primarily designed for hardcore fans of the director. For a regular viewer, it is still a bit unusual, even considering the fact that, from this director, are somehow expecting something to jump at you from the screen. (02/11/2008)

Some clever director's whim, a traditionally listenable soundtrack and occasionally nice cameos. That's all Tarantino gave me and this desperate spectacle made me so angry. Two completely identical parties of overdressed silly kittens with annoying dialogues, making even the conversations from worse of the director's scripts seem like genius. And on top of that, a main villain who disappears for long minutes, resulting in one unsexy dance and one tired car chase. The video rental weirdo has run out of ideas and becomes just a weirdo again, who enjoys watching somewhat strange movies. I don't blame him, but in that case, he shouldn't boast about any "the best" labels. More than a decade later, undoubtedly the worst Tarantino movie, fortunately meaning rock bottom, from which the only way was up, fortunately several floors up. (03/14/2008)

The girls are hot (maybe too hot) and anyone who only looks at their mouths the entire time might get bored eventually. They talk about nothing and that's why most people brush off the dialogue as a weakness. But anyone who's been eyeing Warren's bar, where there are a lot of posters, a cool jukebox, and good drinks being poured, will understand that Quentin has got things figured out pretty damn well. Every now and then the girls drop a suspiciously familiar line from another film and everyone with half a brain realizes that someone here has studied the history of (not only) trash pretty damn well. Although the pulp aesthetic is quite foreign to me, I enjoyed this delightful ride with Quentin as much as Stuntman Mike enjoyed his car. (10/14/2007)

As a stand-alone, this film doesn’t work, that’s pretty clear. But as part of a tribute to a decadent genre, beginning with Rodriguez's macabre starter, the trailers for fictional B-movies, and even the image with the patina of preserved VHS tapes with all the scratches and skips (in the American distribution version, a sign appeared after the lap dance scene apologizing for a piece that was missing due to the poor technical condition of the filmstrip), it has its own unique charm (which is why I consider the division of Grindhouse a fatal mistake). I understand that for many uninitiated viewers the pacing will be a bit " homicidal" – girls fooling around in the car, girls fooling around in the pub, Arlene texting her boyfriend at length, girls fooling around again, Arlene texting AGAIN at length, etc. – and I'm sure it will seem very "bad" to them, but looking at the films Tarantino pays fan tribute to, I have no doubt that he had everything under control, knew what he was doing and that it was supposed to be that "bad". Just look at Meyer's Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!, from which Tarantino also drew: the girls fool around with each other, fool around with the guys, fool around with each other again, in the meantime they take out one guy, and at the end there's some action. Comparing it to Tarantino's previous films or calling it "boring" is a complete misunderstanding of his creative intent. He just made a fan tribute to himself for his own enjoyment and I ate it up with gusto. And the "old-school" car chase at the end was a treat! (08/25/2007)