|
|
Saw this at the Prince Charles (super cheap central London cinema) last night in a proper double-bill-with-trailers showing that was packed to bursting, just like it should be. Tragically, no time to get popcorn. I am made of sad.
Came in about a minute or so into Planet Terror and although I squick out a bit at zombie films and don't really like them, I'm sufficiently aware of the conventions of the genre (and of the B movie in general) to appreciate and feel the love for what a great, well-constructed piece of brain-eating nonsense it was. What I especially enjoyed was the wonderful way Rodriguez managed to make it both a loving homage to, and a pitch-perfect pisstake of, the whole genre.
For example, one of my favourite bits (aside from the whole of Michael Biehn, the sausages-for-guts scene in JT's rib shack, the REEL MISSING waterbed sex scene, and loads of others I can't recall right now) was the payoff when El Ray gets shot in the last reel and Gunleg Lady is doing the deathbed scene beside him:
"It's just us Ray! Two against the world!"
"It will be," he says, putting his hand on her (pregnant after their sex of 2 hours ago, we are to assume) stomach.
"I never miss," he adds (he's a sharpshooting wizard). BRILLIANT, beautifully timed, convention-perfect CHEESE.
Also, the fabulous babysitting twins were great. And wasn't Doctor Lady's llllllesbian lover played by Fergie out of the Black Eyed Peas? Surely she was?
Death Proof, on the other hand, I thought was great - desultory girlie car conversations inclusive, although I'm not completely convinced by Tarantino's attempt at rendering Valley Ebonics* - up until just after Stuntman Mike killed the first carload of ladies. (And, by the way, I couldn't watch the entire driving-home scene because I knew that the leg Julia was hanging out of the window was going to come off at some point but I didn't know when the crash was going to come. Definite hands-over-eyes time).
The disconnect between the first and second half of the film - four female leads plus Mike, night time, bar, sense of impending threat, genuine tension SEGUES TO a NEW four about whom I, personally, could not give a flying fuck seeing as he's KILLED all the ones I've already invested in as characters - did not work for me - and I wonder whether that's because I have never seen any film in this genre (well, maybe a bit of Bullitt?? the Hitcher?) and I don't know jack about car movies.
Zoe's constantly screwed-up face irritated me quite a lot as I could never see her eyes (anyone else notice that with her prominent features she looks a leetle bit like QT himself?) Who cares what colour the goddamn car is? Why must I listen to HALF AN HOUR of pointless arguing and obscure references in order to be spoonfed the information on why Zoe cares what colour the car is?
What is Ship's Mast? I still don't care! Shut up and get in the f***ing car, you boring, boring women. This is supposed to be a driving film so drive already! Vanishing Point - WTF? Should I have seen this film? Should there be a "to watch" list before I even bother attempting to re-encounter this disappointing farrago of disposable non-characters and wasted opportunities?
Personally I felt that if any film should have been split in two it was Death Proof. I thought Death Proof Part I was witty, interesting, tension-filled, well-constructed and thoroughly gripping. Superbly played by Kurt Russell - seriously, I thought this was a wonderfully balanced and nuanced performance - Stuntman Mike was creepy-sexy in a Forbidden Father kind of way.
I didn't see the lapdance reel (boo hiss, buy the DVD) but as a viewer I did believe that he had (effectively) seduced Funny Nostrils Girl into doing it. A really brilliantly written and played character, for me. I would happily have watched the rest of the film just for him ... or so I thought.
Death Proof Part II (as I like to call it), however, came across to me as an unbelievably dull and tension-free sequel to excellent first half. Partly this is because, having created such a great character, QT then all but whisks him away: Russell is criminally wasted in the second half.
Although I must admit that I did love all the squealing and yowling about his relatively minor flesh-wound - partly because we're so used to people in films taking massive damage and shrugging it off, and partly because it's a nice example of the bully-as-coward syndrome - happy enough to cause massive physical pain and injury/death to others, Stuntman Mike is the biggest wimp in the world when it comes to seeing a bit of his own blood.
The ending - well, I suppose we are in Russ Meyer territory at this point - but WTF?
So, to summarise, I want to buy the DVD and watch it again, with popcorn this time. Especially since I now know where all the really disgusting bits are in both and don't have to spend the scenes leading up to them peeping between my fingers.
*I really really hope that "ebonics" isn't a dodgy term when referring to African-American speech patterns and styles btw - I heard it from a Canadian who's usually scrupulous about such things. Sorry if so. |
|
|