One half of the Rodriguez/Tarantino collaboration Grindhouse, kindly padded out to feature length for us non-American viewers, Death Proof features Kurt Russell as Stuntman Mike, a deranged driver who likes to deliberately cause fatal crashes. But when he picks on a car which just happens to include a couple of Hollywood stunt women amongst its passengers, the tables are turned and poor old Mike gets a taste of his own medicine. An homage to the violent, gritty, un-PC action flicks of the 70s, Death Proof comes complete with dodgy editing and scratchy film stock, in an attempt to deliver that authentic 'grindhouse' vibe.
Okay Quentin, I get it! You're a cool bloke. You like cool music, cool films and cool people. But why do you feel like you have to constantly prove to us how cool you are by repeatedly referencing all your cool cinematic influences in unrealistic conversations between unrealistic characters, whilst your cool soundtrack endlessly plays in the background (which is always littered with visual references from your goddamn favourite cool films)?
The experience is so bloody boring: 45 minutes of nothing but chit-chat (complete with your oh-so tiresome references to Kahuna burgers and Red Apple cigarettes), followed by a decent car crash (that shows what you are capable of when you're not trying so hard to be cool), then more chin-wagging (mention foot massage one more time, Quentin. I dare you. No, I double dare you!), even more movie references (don't you understand that when you have your actresses wax lyrical about B-movies and fast cars, thus creating a fantasy world where gorgeous women actually share YOUR passions, it comes across as rather sad?), and, finally, a well executed car chase capped with an extremely crap ending.
I have a sneaking suspicion that, as part of the original Grindhouse double bill (with Rodriguez's Planet Terror and some faux trailers for other trashy movies), a shorter version of Death Proof (with less jibber jabber) would have worked slightly better. But since the rest of the world (outside of the U.S.) has been denied the chance of seeing this version, all I can do is judge the cut I have seen. And it is not good.
Okay Quentin, I get it! You're a cool bloke. You like cool music, cool films and cool people. But why do you feel like you have to constantly prove to us how cool you are by repeatedly referencing all your cool cinematic influences in unrealistic conversations between unrealistic characters, whilst your cool soundtrack endlessly plays in the background (which is always littered with visual references from your goddamn favourite cool films)?
The experience is so bloody boring: 45 minutes of nothing but chit-chat (complete with your oh-so tiresome references to Kahuna burgers and Red Apple cigarettes), followed by a decent car crash (that shows what you are capable of when you're not trying so hard to be cool), then more chin-wagging (mention foot massage one more time, Quentin. I dare you. No, I double dare you!), even more movie references (don't you understand that when you have your actresses wax lyrical about B-movies and fast cars, thus creating a fantasy world where gorgeous women actually share YOUR passions, it comes across as rather sad?), and, finally, a well executed car chase capped with an extremely crap ending.
I have a sneaking suspicion that, as part of the original Grindhouse double bill (with Rodriguez's Planet Terror and some faux trailers for other trashy movies), a shorter version of Death Proof (with less jibber jabber) would have worked slightly better. But since the rest of the world (outside of the U.S.) has been denied the chance of seeing this version, all I can do is judge the cut I have seen. And it is not good.