Like
him or not — and most of the time I don’t — Quentin Tarantino really
deserves a measure of credit for his cinematic version of a bold, clever con
game.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Like the Coen
brothers, he introduces a strain of irony into his pictures with the equivalent
of a wink and a nudge that allows him to exploit exactly the sort of graphic,
excessive violence that the same critics who rave about his work generally
deplore in, say, some run-of-the-cemetery horror flick. As long as he
exaggerates enough and throws in enough bad jokes and dumb stories — see Pulp Fiction — he gets away with
murder, as the saying goes, and of a particularly bloody variety at that.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย His latest movie, the completion of
the moderately successful but loudly praised Kill Bill, Vol. 1,
imaginatively entitled Kill Bill, Vol. 2,
naturally exhibits the mixture as before: a series of vaguely related episodes,
most of them featuring physical conflict, martial arts, shooting, swordplay,
and buckets of blood.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Each episode constitutes a chapter
in the two-volume work, with antiquated, pulp-fiction (of course) titles on the
screen, e.g., “The Cruel Tutelage of PaiMei” and “The Massacre at Two Pines Chapel.” Uma Thurman, who plays the protagonist, an accomplished
assassin wonderfully named Beatrix Kiddo, introduces
several of the episodes in a voice-over narrative, sometimes supplying
additional information about the people and the
situation.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย In keeping with his decidedly
academic approach to film, which guarantees a warm reception from the
reviewers, Tarantino also imitates or alludes to a number of different genres
in as many different visual styles. He begins the movie with a dark, grainy
black and white scheme that resembles the chiaroscuro effects of film noir, especially of the B grade, then
shifts to a much lighter, virtually overexposed black and white that bleaches
much of the screen and creates an intense halation around the characters.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย In other episodes and locations he
uses what appears to be a coarse, smeary videotape in which the colors run into
each other and the setups now and then seem clumsy and amateurish; other
episodes resemble old television shows, while many in color look as slick and
expensive as any Hollywood product.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Along with the various color
schemes, the writer-director also fills his picture with the recognizable
material content of those other kinds of films. Beatrix
Kiddo, for example, employs the skills of the cinematic martial artist in
fighting a number of opponents, assuming those familiar poetic postures from a
hundred king-fu movies — Squatting Mongoose, Prancing Cockroach, Flatulent
Camel, or something of that nature — and floating and spinning in the usual
implausible slow-motion ballet. David Carradine, who
plays the title character, frequently imparts lessons to her in the tone of the
ancient master who first instructed him in a popular television series many
years ago — it must gratify him finally to have the sandal on the other foot.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย The other dominant technique derives
from the spaghetti Westerns of Sergio Leone and others, turning much of the film
into what might be called pasta noir, a mingling of modes that generally
exaggerates and stylizes all the actions, overloading unimportant objects with
meaning through tight closeups held for long periods.
In many scenes the director positions his camera at eye level, then holds
endlessly on the face of an actor who often squints in the approved Lee Van Cleef manner, while the music of the immortal EnnioMorricone plays on the
soundtrack.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย The discrete chapters, each
displaying those distinct visual styles, occur out of chronological sequence,
and require a surprising amount of talky exposition to sew all the parts
together into a comprehensible whole. Beatrix and
Bill spend a good deal of time hashing over their mutual history and explaining
themselves to each other. Bill recounts tedious anecdotes, delivers long,
pedantic lectures, and utters many words of warning to Beatrix
in a meticulous professorial manner, so precious and precise that you can hear
the semicolons chiming.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย The acting meshes almost seamlessly
with both the self-conscious tedium and the general overstatement of the
script. The two leggy blondes, Uma Thurman and Daryl
Hannah, antagonists in the movie, play their parts with a sort of mirror
effect, each matching the other in martial arts maneuvers, self-conscious
irony, and embarrassingly obvious gags, looking for laughs in all the wrong
places. David Carradine’s attitude of world-weary
cynicism rapidly grows as tiresome as his endless discourses.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย A typically Tarantinian
violence permeates the action, forming an ironic counterpoint to all the
learned disquisitions. Aside from a number of shootings and those martial arts
encounters, the motion picture features such jolly stuff as a live interment,
an attack by a pet black mamba, and two eye gougings,
one of them enlivened by the gouger (Beatrix)
gleefully squashing the plucked eyeball underfoot like a large, ripe grape. If
that makes Kill Bill, Vol. 2 your
bowl of fruit, then eat up — it’s pure Tarantino.
Kill
Bill, Vol. 2, starring Uma Thurman, David Carradine, Michael Madsen, Daryl Hannah, Gordon Liu,
Michael Parks, Samuel L. Jackson; written and directed by Quentin Tarantino.
This article appears in Apr 14-20, 2004.
