Sep 26, 2011

Kill Bill Vol's I and II - 2003/2004

Kill Bill Vols 1 and II, Quentin Tarantino's exuberant nod to himself, is an example I suppose of what extremely talented artists do when they've got nothing better to do. They play with their paints. But as a nod to himself it's also the first (of what I hope will be a very short list) of his films that qualify as being little more than Quentin Tarantino brand product.

There isn't much plot that's for sure, only motive; and that motive is revenge. Once we get that (and we get that right up front when we're reminded "Revenge is a dish best served cold") there's nothing else to really "figure out". In other words, the film is set up from the outset to be all style and no substance. That seems like a good reason to give this film a pass, unless of course you are of the belief that style is substance. Personally I'm inclined to believe that style indicates the presence of substance somewhere; usually anyway.

When Tarantino's characters wink at the audience (and there's so much winking going on here its as if the films stars have all developed nervous twitches in their eyes) it's a fundamentally different experience than most times you encounter this in a film. His character's are not saying "Get it?" they're saying "Quentin knows exactly what you want to see here and now watch him deliver it in a way that only he can". It's chest thumping by the director with the willing consent of the ensemble cast who no doubt want to be called in to work on the next project.

So it takes a certain generosity of spirit to enjoy Kill Bill because you have to admit up front that QT knows better than you; that he's a master and you are at best the acolyte. If I enjoyed it its not because I'm the Buddha or anything but because, to me, there IS something thrilling about watching someone who really knows what they're doing go about their business.

In the hands of a less visually and culturally astute director, the shortcomings of Kill Bill's script would have made the experience unbearable. Instead, in Tarantino's hands, Kill Bill is like standing in front of a Matisse painting of goldfish. Granted there's not much there to engage the mind from a narrative standpoint, on the other hand if you can't appreciate the tension Matisse has infused his seemingly simplistic composition with or the way the crude, cadmium orange shapes of the goldfish seem to spring to life within the skewed visual world of the bowl then I don't know what to say. Go buy a Thomas Kincaid. Likewise if you are unable to enjoy the exquisitely crafted Japanese Garden scene where The Bride has her showdown with Tokyo crime boss Oh-Ren Ishii then maybe you shouldn't waste any more money on movies period.

There's no point getting into the particulars of the plot because, as I stated up front, there isn't one. No one is going to mistake the Bride for Ripley. Tarantino's female avenger is drawn in the broadest possible strokes so as not to confuse the viewer into thinking there might be something beneath the surface of Kill Bill that isn't there. We don't need to know anything about her except that she's pissed and more than able to rain whoop-ass down upon those who wronged her. Likewise the rest of the cast are given scenes to play and they play them. But the individual scenes in Kill Bill really have more to do with the settings, the lighting and the sly pop culture references reshaped and given new life (the Green Hornet tv show theme playing over the sight of the jet carrying the Bride as it descends upon Tokyo is just one example) then they do with advancing a story. In that sense watching Kill Bill creates the strange feeling of watching a "Making of Kill Bill" documentary.

If there's one grievance I have with Kill Bill it is the oft-stated argument that there was no good reason to split this into two films. Part II isn't a separate act where disparate narrative threads are brought together and finally resolved. It's just more great-looking whoop-ass. And because of this the decision to split the film seems like nothing more than a cash-grab by Mirimax, which, despite their protestations to the contrary, is probably exactly what it was. For that both the film maker and studio deserve a good slap on the wrist.

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