BILL THRILLS: IMPRESSIONS OF KILL BILL
by Nathan Fuller 
- 10.14.03
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Some things will always be cool- Audrey Hepburn,
Appetite for Destruction, and cigarettes, for instance.
They are immune to the usual instability of coolness thoroughly
detailed by the “What’s Hot, What’s Not”
list in People magazine. Kill Bill knows
what’s always cool - namely, Asian cinema - the wuxia
kung fu, the heroic bloodshed, the chop socky slice ‘n’
dice ‘em show downs, and the babes ‘n’ bullets
who are in the middle of it all. Quentin Tarantino may never
live up to Roger Ebert’s post-Pulp Fiction
prediction of becoming “a bold new voice in American
filmmaking bound to make a movie that cures a serious illness,”
but he is certainly passionate. Bill comes across
as the ultimate love letter-cum-homage to the Shaw Brothers
and Golden Harvest films that were first to teach us even
a stubbed toe could result in somebody spitting up a quart
of blood in slow motion. |
In some ways, Kill Bill resembles another recent movie,
Once Upon Time in Mexico. They both have subtext about
the new American imperialism, but neither was likely meant as such.
I’m guessing both were simply intended as high-flying comic
books constructed by a couple of video geek, do-it-yourselfers who
were making movies for nobody but themselves. Even Johnny Depp,
however, could not rescue the narrative chaos that drowned Mexico.
Kill Bill, conversely, has an undemanding and predictable
story, if it can even be called a story. A one-trick revenge fantasy
may be more appropriate. But the chic ballet of violence that Tarantino
achieves is a beautiful thing.
I don’t know how this movie will be
received by an audience who have been targeted their entire
lives by the cynical prostitutes who release Charlie’s
Angels and Bad Boys movies. They may not be
impressed by the lack of any new-fangled, FX stunts. Or
they may be disappointed that the soundtrack by the RZA
does not sound more like the Wu Tang Clan. It is my hope,
though, that they will be enticed by the operatic orgy of
lost limbs and martial arts in the same way a baby is instinctively
drawn to its mother’s milk.
Kill Bill is not perfect. It lacks the consistent
snap in its dialogue that made Reservoir Dogs and
Pulp Fiction so compelling. I also think masking
the real identity of the main character in favor of a smooth
alias, “The Bride,” may just be a way to inspire
the creation of fan-based web sites entirely devoted to
discovering her true name (I’ve found two so far,
and started one of my own- www.whoisthebride.com ). |
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For some reason, the movie has been split into two volumes. Unless,
as my friend pointed out, volume two is four hours long, it’s
probably just a way to make more money. That’s money that
I will be more than happy to spend unless I can figure a way to
sneak in. On a scale of famous body parts in cinema, where
Bunny Lebowski’s toe is a 1, and the human torso/guitar
in From Dusk Till Dawn is a 10, Kill Bill rates
Braveheart’s head, the numerical equivalent of an 8.2.
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