“Jackie Brown”
If Quentin Tarantino really does make good on his promise to retire after ten movies, then it’s likely that “Jackie Brown” – a languid, immaculate, endlessly rewatchable powerhouse character piece inspired by the Elmore Leonard page-turner “Rum Punch” – will be remembered as his most compassionate work. The characters in “Jackie Brown” aren’t vengeful Nazi-killers, sniveling racists, or quippy bounty hunters. They’re ordinary, recognizable human beings, albeit ones who speak Tarantino’s recognizably heightened lowlife patois while occupying a criminal milieu far removed from what you or I might consider everyday life. All that said, it’s remarkable how relatable the characters in this movie are. They want to find love, make money, get stoned, and listen to the Delfonics. Quick show of hands: who can relate? Tarantino’s leisurely masterpiece was viewed as a misfire in the wake of the epoch-defining “Pulp Fiction” but has since been re-evaluated for the seminal work that it very obviously is. “Jackie Brown” also contains the last great Pam Grier performance, and it’s abundantly clear from the way that he shoots her and writes her dialogue that Tarantino not only worships at the altar of “Coffy” and “Foxy Brown” (key touchstones for this picture), but he also clearly adores and respects Grier as a screen icon. The film boasts arguably the most stacked ensemble Q.T. has ever worked with, including Robert De Niro as a low-energy, pot-smoking ex-con who is pushed too far in one hilarious scene, Bridget Fonda as a bratty beach bunny, Robert Forster as a lovesick bail bondsman, and Samuel L. Jackson in what might be his finest role for Tarantino, playing gabby, gun-obsessed sociopath Ordell Robbie. If Tarantino had retired after “Jackie Brown”, he could have considered it a career well spent. [A+]
“Kill Bill Vol. 1”
The close-quarters combat scene that opens “Kill Bill Vol. 1” is one of the most relentless, unforgiving pieces of action cinema that Quentin Tarantino has ever staged. For a director who is known for letting his characters talk at great length, the sustained blunt-force intensity of this scene is exceptionally jarring (particularly when you consider that Q.T.’s previous piece, “Jackie Brown,” was 95% conversation). Part kung-fu pastiche, part chop-socky epic, part feminist parable, “Kill Bill Vol. 1” kicks off a chapter of Tarantino’s career when his stories stopped taking place in the real world (the delirious but still identifiable L.A. of “Pulp Fiction,” for instance, or the languorous South Bay of “Jackie Brown”) and started taking place exclusively in Movieland. The first of a two-part saga that chronicles the journey of wronged assassin Beatrix Kiddo in her quest for justice, ‘Vol. 1’ is a martial arts revenge yarn, whereas ‘Vol. 2‘ is more of a lonesome, slow-paced Western. ‘Vol. 1’ is worth seeing for its fight choreography alone, particularly a superviolent showdown where Kiddo slices and dices her way through the trenches of a demented criminal gang who call themselves the Crazy 88’s, as well as a later show-stopper of a scene where Kiddo faces off against Lucy Liu’s O-Ren Ishii that sees Tarantino deftly paying tribute to “Lady Snowblood.” “Kill Bill Vol. 1” occasionally lacks the texture and hangout vibes of Q.T.’s early movies: it’s all forward momentum, all the time. As a story with human stakes, it leaves you wanting. As a purely visceral action spectacle, however, it’s nothing short of stunning. [B]
“Kill Bill Vol. 2”
If “Kill Bill Vol. 1” is a frenzied bit of gorehound foreplay, ‘Vol. 2‘ is the act itself. It’s a more confident and complete work than its predecessor: an elegiac frontier murder ballad that nevertheless feels of a piece with the gonzo kung-fu madness of the first installment. Uma Thurman is even better here than she was in “Vol. 1”: this is her most physically demanding role (one that, by her own admission, almost killed her and threatened to poison her relationship with Q.T. for good), and also one of her best. Thurman brings a weary soul to Beatrix Kiddo that is glimpsed only fleetingly in “Vol. 1,” making this one of Tarantino’s most unexpectedly emotional films. The black-and-white prologue is a stunner, setting the stage for the act of horrific bloodshed that lands Kiddo in a hospital bed near the beginning of “Vol. 1”. Throughout the film, Kiddo is pulverized, left for dead, and even buried alive in one agonizingly claustrophobic sequence. Whereas “Vol. 1” was more or less a nonstop action spectacle, “Vol. 2” feels more like a standard Tarantino film in its willingness to go on for long periods as its characters talk about relatively unimportant topics (if you’ve ever wanted to hear a riveting David Carradine relay an anecdote about a goldfish named Emilio while making a sandwich for a little girl, this is your movie). “Kill Bill Vol. 2” is also, like all of Q.T.’s films, populated by some very fine actors, including Tarantino regular Michael Madsen as a trailer-dwelling cowboy scumbag, Shaw Brothers mainstay Gordon Liu as legendary kung-fu master Pai Mei, Sid Haig as a grizzled bartender, and Michael Parks as a voluble pimp with inestimable movie knowledge. [B+]
“Death Proof”
Even if you didn’t grow up on junky drive-in movies, the whopping, close-to-four-hours “Grindhouse” was quite a trip. The idea was that Tarantino and his pal and occasional collaborator Robert Rodriguez – who both grew up on this sort of cinema – were helming the ultimate love letter to the era of B movies, replete with grainy film stock, fake trailers directed by the likes of Eli Roth, Edgar Wright, and Rob Zombie, and yes, buckets of blood. Rodriguez’s film, “Planet Terror,” is a lovingly cruddy John Carpenter riff that distills the director’s signature fetishes (well-choreographed carnage, BBQ, sexy women with prosthetic weapons attached to their bodies) into a devilishly enjoyable brew. Tarantino’s installment – a ruthless piece of business called “Death Proof” that takes its inspiration from slasher flicks and muscle car movies like “Vanishing Point” and Abel Ferrara’s little-seen T.V. movie “The Gladiator” – is more ambitious, and also more of a mixed bag. The film spends an inordinate amount of time hanging out with a group of Austin gal pals (led by Tarantino regular Zoe Bell) as they eat Tex-Mex and shoot the shit in scenes that are reminiscent of the breezy opening of “Reservoir Dogs.” When the film introduces the audience to Stuntman Mike – a charming sicko played with winking cruelty by Kurt Russell – the film enters meaner and more problematic terrain. The film concludes with a rousing car chase for the ages, and its dialect is salty and quotable in that way that Q.T. dialogue tends to be, but it also ends too abruptly and doesn’t leave as lasting of an impression as the director’s more fleshed-out narrative works. [C+]
