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Kill Bill Vol.1

****

Cinema Review - October 13, 2003

Rated on a 4-star scale. Certificate 18. USA. 108 minutes. Written and directed by Quentin Tarantino. Produced by Lawrence Bender. Starring Uma Thurman, David Carradine, Lucy Liu, Daryl Hannah, Vivica A. Fox, Michael Madsen, Michael Parks, Sonny Chiba, Chiaki Kuriyama, Julie Dreyfus.

I am reminded of days gone by, about a decade ago, when playing "Mortal Kombat" was one of life's great thrills. How I fantasised about a movie version, full of that same colour and carnage, with blistering rhythm and perfect settings. A movie did come out, and it was sort of fun. But when they make films from video games, they somehow feel obliged to tack on a story and make the characters say things, to give us action scenes inspired by other movies, and in general miss the appeal of the sources that we loved.

"Kill Bill Vol.1" is, as the ads say, a roaring rampage of revenge -- a kung-fu and samurai kill-crazy blood festival divided into chapters, just like those video games unfolded in levels. It's not supposed to remind us of computers; it's Quentin Tarantino's grindhouse movie, a tribute to the kind of martial arts flicks that would come from the Shaw studio or play in the worst of Los Angeles fleapits. But to me it fulfils a wish; it feels like those gamer movies should have, giving us empty and violent thrills with the skill and passion of cinematic art.

It's got Uma Thurman as 'The Bride', who once upon a time worked for a band of assassins that looked like Charlie's Angels. They turned on her way back when, killing her wedding guests and shooting her in the head -- but she survived, and now she's back, with nothing on her mind but busting the sunzabitches up. One by one, she'll track them down and perpetrate murder -- in Japan, California, wherever. The movie is a series of massive set pieces where Thurman fights, and fights, and fights.

There's a knife fight in a suburban home. A meeting with an Okinawa swordmaker, played by Sonny Chiba. An anime backstory of O-Ren Ishii (Lucy Liu), leader of the Tokyo underworld. And then a fight with Ishii's minions, the Crazy 88. Thurman takes them on single-handedly, swishing around and chopping guys up in one of the fastest, bloodiest, craziest, most twist-and-turn-until-they-find-muscles-they-didn't-know-they-had-est action sequences I've ever seen in a movie.

Tarantino is a master at flavour, and yes, "Kill Bill 1" is enjoyable on that level. It's full of strong colours, and it has one of those instantly catchy soundtracks, mixing original electronic music by RZA with Oriental tunes, TV themes, Ennio Morricone and a bit of Nancy Sinatra. There are movie references all around -- the plot descends from countless bargain basement revenge dramas, as well as the Francois Truffaut picture "The Bride Wore Black", and as everyone knows by now, the big battle sequence shows Uma wearing a similar sort of suit to Bruce Lee in "Game of Death".

What's surprising is how affecting the violence is. "Kill Bill" slaps us around, determined to see how far over the top it can push itself, taking Tarantino's trademark juggling of tone and pushing it to the limit with a perverse, delicious, brilliant kind of joy. The movie gets a laugh by opening with an 'ancient Klingon proverb', and then has one of its only gunshots -- a loud, raw, painful sound above the image of Thurman's battered and trembling face. There's also the scene where she's bashing a metal door against a hospital orderly's head -- savagely pounding it, with a horrible thwack, while screaming in his ear. The orderly's name is Buck, and you know what that rhymes with, but I won't reveal what his deal is, except to say that it typifies the mixture of appalling shocks and absurd humour.

It all feels very much like Tarantino, although it really shouldn't. We can identify some of his pet actors, his distinctive use of colour, the influence of his trashy cinematic obsessions. But the movie is wall-to-wall action at breakneck speed. "Reservoir Dogs" and "Pulp Fiction" might have felt fast, but in cutting terms they weren't, and they only zipped by because there was so much of interest going on. Nor did they actually have that much violence; "Kill Bill Vol.1" has hardly anything but.

And Tarantino has abandoned some of his strengths: A lot of the dialogue is spoken deliberately, drained of rhythm and snap to sound like the solemn ancient tones of cheesy martial arts exploitation. There's messy bits here, like at the opening, when we get both a 'ShawScope' logo and a retro 'feature presentation' card, as well as a credit that screams of arrogance: "The 4th film by Quentin Tarantino." And there are occasional moments when the director's silly humour interrupts: After the tense and shocking end to the Vivica Fox chapter, did we really need to see Thurman drive off in a van that says 'Pussy Wagon' in giant "Scooby-Doo" letters?

Maybe it's supposed to be sort of messy, to give out a nudge and all the more let us know that this is schlock-a-rama. But it's unnecessary. Doesn't Tarantino realise how striking the movie's images are, and how well they embody base entertainment and sick glee on a gloriously painterly canvas? He doesn't need to keep reminding us that it's all a big blast, existing in the movie-movie world. He shouldn't avoid the fact that his strengths are crafting the cadences of speech and converting pulp influence into finessed American cinema. He should have made a few choices, and saved his cute little trappings for the menu on the DVD.

Still, my basic complaints here revolve around miniscule moments; all I'm actually saying is that the movie falls short of perfection. I was still wowed by it. I still saw it twice in two days. I'm not gonna seize on it like some in the press have -- they seem to be waiting for Tarantino to fail. It's understandable -- he's an extreme talent, as likely to bomb as to triumph, and he takes on risky projects, while displaying a dangerous ego that shows fame has clouded his perspective. But for now those are sideline issues. None of his movies thus far have been anything less than excellent, and to let our doubts become the main point of discussion is to be mean-spirited. I've seen hardly anything in this weekend's newspapers that screams of enthusiasm -- there are grudging admissions that "Kill Bill" is a work of brilliance, underneath tones of sneering and facile accusations that its tone is sadistic.

Where did this dark cloud descend over Tarantino? Here's a guy who blasted into cinema like a thunderbolt, has directed a collection of masterpieces and written several more. Maybe he's on his way down. Maybe that's inevitable. But he hasn't screwed up yet, and all this emphatic dissent is more likely to make him resentful of the press than buck him into shape and remind him what's important. It's possible to criticise his excesses without being unsupportive.

I'll admit that I'm a fanboy. That watching this movie, I had a heightened awareness of watching the new Tarantino, and had to make an effort to neither blindly love nor cynically pick apart. But my love for the film is honest -- more honest than those who hate it, who want to show their awareness that this guy is no longer a phenomenon, and they can be superior enough in their detachment to not even admit it's good. "Kill Bill" has all the coolness and daring and wit through which Tarantino made his name. It still delivers what we expected, and packs some shocking punches on top.

And it isn't even finished. Roll on 2.

COPYRIGHT© 2003 Ian Waldron-Mantgani

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