Finally, Volume Two is here. The stage is set for Uma to continue her
roaring rampage of revenge and Kill Bill. Unfortunately, Bill likes to
talk. A lot.
We were promised more chit-chat, but instead of the
trademark Tarantino dialogue, theres a lot of grandiose meandering.
Chief culprit is Bill, who delivers big, important-y sounding
monologues about everything from the imperative nature of returning a
'hallo,' to his interpretation of Superman. Bill could use a flipchart
to go with his samurai sword, as he seems intent on talking his victim
to death. Who thought wed ever be complaining about dialogue from the
man who gave us Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction? The Tarantino that
conjured up entertaining dialogue about foot massages and McDonalds
seems to be on holiday. At its worst, it's like George Lucas himself
wrote the script (sorry Jar-Jar fans).
As in Volume One, the
movie references come thick and fast. The opening scene at the chapel,
as Bill and The Bride step towards each other through a series of
close-ups, is like some strange student-film parody of "Once Upon A
Time In The West." In fact, Tarantino makes so many nods to Sergio
Leone, hes lucky his head doesnt fall off. And no matter how much he
wants it to be, David Carradine blowing a few notes on a home-made
whistle has none of the mystery of Charles Bronson playing his
harmonica.
The real problem is the pace. Toward the end of
Volume One, the film had built up such a head of steam, it looked all
set to explode into wonderfulness, so it's disappointing that
everything slows down so much.
But fear not, because between all
the talk, theres the action, and its worth waiting for. The
Jackass-inspired smackdown between Uma and Daryl Hannah is stylish,
funny, gory, and quite literally eye-popping. The teeth-clenchingly
claustrophobic coffin sequence, as Michael Madsen attempts to bury our
heroine alive, reminds us just how effective Tarantino can be with only
an idea, a camera, and an actress. He has so much talent that he
doesn't need to splash the Weinsteins cash on gigantic set pieces. It
may be that the director has so many ideas that a restricted budget
focuses his imagination, bringing better results. If I was arguing this
in court, I'd put Reservoir Dogs in a baggy and call it Exhibit A.
The
big showdown with Bill himself is an anticlimax, more chatter than
splatter. They dont even get out of their seats. Its all rounded off
with some arch-silliness involving truth serum and something called the
'five point palm exploding heart technique,' which is at least as daft
as it sounds.
All this is to judge Tarantino against his own
obscenely high standards. Despite the mountain of problems, Kill Bill
Volume Two is more entertaining, original, and intelligent than most of
what youll see this year. We should definitely be careful not to take
Quentin Tarantino for granted, or well have to endure another barren,
Quentin-less spell of nothing but Oscar nominated Ron Howard films. I
just wish he'd focus more.
He is not content with mixing
countless movie genres like yakuza, samurai, Shaw Brothers, spaghetti
western and countless others. Nor with homaging and referencing very
specific movies like Lady Snowblood, Rainy Day, They Call Her One-Eye,
The Wicked Dreams of Paula Schultz, Switchblade Sisters, Once Upon A
Time In... ah, forget it. If I listed them all, it would bring the
Interenet crashing down.
For Volume Two, Tarantino goes a step
further by overtly referencing his own work. In a cute nod to Reservoir
Dogs, The Bride pulls a razor blade from her boot, and later Bill
labels her a "natural born killer." Very droll, but from the moment Uma
looks into camera and tells us she's "on what the movie advertisements
refer to as a roaring rampage of revenge," it's too much referencing,
not enough movie.
Surely, Kill Bill is as far as self-referential cinema can go, and Tarantino won't go any further down this road.
Maybe
we can look forward to something more grounded in reality, now that
he's worked every movie he's ever seen into his current, interesting
mess.
Let's just hope we don't have to wait another six years for it.
roaring rampage of revenge and Kill Bill. Unfortunately, Bill likes to
talk. A lot.
We were promised more chit-chat, but instead of the
trademark Tarantino dialogue, theres a lot of grandiose meandering.
Chief culprit is Bill, who delivers big, important-y sounding
monologues about everything from the imperative nature of returning a
'hallo,' to his interpretation of Superman. Bill could use a flipchart
to go with his samurai sword, as he seems intent on talking his victim
to death. Who thought wed ever be complaining about dialogue from the
man who gave us Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction? The Tarantino that
conjured up entertaining dialogue about foot massages and McDonalds
seems to be on holiday. At its worst, it's like George Lucas himself
wrote the script (sorry Jar-Jar fans).
As in Volume One, the
movie references come thick and fast. The opening scene at the chapel,
as Bill and The Bride step towards each other through a series of
close-ups, is like some strange student-film parody of "Once Upon A
Time In The West." In fact, Tarantino makes so many nods to Sergio
Leone, hes lucky his head doesnt fall off. And no matter how much he
wants it to be, David Carradine blowing a few notes on a home-made
whistle has none of the mystery of Charles Bronson playing his
harmonica.
The real problem is the pace. Toward the end of
Volume One, the film had built up such a head of steam, it looked all
set to explode into wonderfulness, so it's disappointing that
everything slows down so much.
But fear not, because between all
the talk, theres the action, and its worth waiting for. The
Jackass-inspired smackdown between Uma and Daryl Hannah is stylish,
funny, gory, and quite literally eye-popping. The teeth-clenchingly
claustrophobic coffin sequence, as Michael Madsen attempts to bury our
heroine alive, reminds us just how effective Tarantino can be with only
an idea, a camera, and an actress. He has so much talent that he
doesn't need to splash the Weinsteins cash on gigantic set pieces. It
may be that the director has so many ideas that a restricted budget
focuses his imagination, bringing better results. If I was arguing this
in court, I'd put Reservoir Dogs in a baggy and call it Exhibit A.
The
big showdown with Bill himself is an anticlimax, more chatter than
splatter. They dont even get out of their seats. Its all rounded off
with some arch-silliness involving truth serum and something called the
'five point palm exploding heart technique,' which is at least as daft
as it sounds.
All this is to judge Tarantino against his own
obscenely high standards. Despite the mountain of problems, Kill Bill
Volume Two is more entertaining, original, and intelligent than most of
what youll see this year. We should definitely be careful not to take
Quentin Tarantino for granted, or well have to endure another barren,
Quentin-less spell of nothing but Oscar nominated Ron Howard films. I
just wish he'd focus more.
He is not content with mixing
countless movie genres like yakuza, samurai, Shaw Brothers, spaghetti
western and countless others. Nor with homaging and referencing very
specific movies like Lady Snowblood, Rainy Day, They Call Her One-Eye,
The Wicked Dreams of Paula Schultz, Switchblade Sisters, Once Upon A
Time In... ah, forget it. If I listed them all, it would bring the
Interenet crashing down.
For Volume Two, Tarantino goes a step
further by overtly referencing his own work. In a cute nod to Reservoir
Dogs, The Bride pulls a razor blade from her boot, and later Bill
labels her a "natural born killer." Very droll, but from the moment Uma
looks into camera and tells us she's "on what the movie advertisements
refer to as a roaring rampage of revenge," it's too much referencing,
not enough movie.
Surely, Kill Bill is as far as self-referential cinema can go, and Tarantino won't go any further down this road.
Maybe
we can look forward to something more grounded in reality, now that
he's worked every movie he's ever seen into his current, interesting
mess.
Let's just hope we don't have to wait another six years for it.
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