Directed by:
Quentin TarantinoScreenplay:
Quentin TarantinoCinematography:
Quentin TarantinoCast:
Kurt Russell, Rosario Dawson, Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Tracie Thoms, Zoë Bell, Vanessa Ferlito, Rose McGowan, Sydney Tamiia Poitier, Jordan Ladd (more)VOD (3)
Plots(1)
In Tarantino's Death Proof, Austin's hottest DJ, Jungle Julia, sets out into the night to unwind with her two friends Shanna an Arlene. Covertly tracking their moves is Stuntman Mike, a scarred rebel leering from behind the wheel of his muscle car, revving just feet away. (Dimension Films)
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Reviews (15)
I have no idea why this movie is so long. Why dilute a solid story (that doesn't start until the middle of the movie) with a completely unnecessary, nearly one hour prolog? Especially since after the prolog there is a “reboot’ and we start again. In the first part, we have to watch uninteresting characters, embarrassing cameos, and wannabe cool dialogs that even the hardworking Kurt Russell can’t save. The second half is basically the same, but it works mainly thanks to the likable ladies and Tarantino dialogs. The final car chase has the right atmosphere and edge to it. Technically and stylistically, it’s perfect to the smallest detail from Quentin, but that was to be expected. It is clear that he has not only seen a lot of movies, but that he can do more than just imitate, unlike Rodriguez. In particular, the idea of advancing the plot through the use of a missing film reel is ingenious and much better executed than in Planet Terror. Overall, however, I think the Grindhouse project would only benefit from both parts being shortened. Especially in the case of Tarantino's part, which is significantly better in terms of filmmaking and style, but surprisingly lags behind his colleague's more straightforward piece in terms of entertainment.
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Just like with Kill Bill, I have to say that this kind of filmmaking completely misses the mark for me, albeit for somewhat different reasons than Tarantino's previous film. As surprising as it is that a film by a cult pop culture director is set in the blue field, it is rather proof of the absolutely exceptional position that Quentin Tarantino currently holds in the film world. While Kill Bill was a brilliantly and precisely shot trash, with gallons of blood, dynamic action, beautiful women, and a few memorable lines, and the interest and favor of film fans was no surprise, Death Proof is the least audience-friendly film, and it doesn't make any effort to win the favor of the audience, and the director made it for his own pleasure and the pleasure of the same nutcases as him. Death Proof is a tribute to a certain trash subgenre, where Tarantino, unlike the Coen brothers, doesn't play with genre principles but tries to achieve the maximum condensation and extraction of the genre essence. It is a strongly non-narrative film, where style is everything. In fact, the plot can be successfully summarized in four lines. The characters don't really have personalities and are rather types that are supposed to fit into a certain genre box. I've read something similar in small-run alternative lesbian-feminist comics from the 70s. The men who appear in the film are almost exclusively weaklings who beg for attention and sexual satisfaction from dominant women, who are characterized by strong vulgar language and are so cool that after a while it becomes boring or irritating due to the excessive stylization. The villain, according to this concept, has a macho appearance, but beneath the tough facade, he is incredibly weak and cowardly... I think the ability to captivate the average viewer is minimal, and so the current reviews are evidence that if Tarantino were to shoot a 90-minute recording of a washing machine drum spinning, there would undoubtedly be comments from users saying that at first glance they were hesitant and only understood Tarantino's creative genius in full extent after the second viewing. It doesn't make sense to judge Death Proof as a good or bad film, because Tarantino knows his craft and that is not the problem. But it is so self-centered that it is almost inedible from my point of view. Overall impression: 25%.
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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!
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A clever director's whim, a traditionally listenable soundtrack, and occasionally nice cameos. That's all Quentin Tarantino has given me and this desperate spectacle made me so angry. Two completely identical parties of overdressed silly kittens with annoying dialogue, making even the conversations from the worst 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.
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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.
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