Ali-Come-Lately Part 1 - Review of Q. Tarantino's "Deathproof"

You ever have a friend say to you: "Hey, man! You should watch this movie/check out this TV show/listen to this CD/read this book, 'cause I know you'd like it!"

People say that to me all the time, and sometimes it just bugs me. I hate the fact that I'm so easily read by my friends. I also hate when somebody knows about some cool form of media before I do. It doesn't stop me from doing the same in reverse though: (By the way Grant, you should really rent Hot Fuzz, 'cause I know you'd like it).

Earlier this spring/summer, my brother-in-law suggested that we go see Grindhouse, that cool double feature of Robert Rodriguez's Planet Terror and Quentin Tarantino's Deathproof during opening weekend. Sounded like a cool idea, and it was sure to be fun because I'm a huge fan. But, I ultimately blew him off and decided not to go (I had to work a bunch of weekends this summer). So I missed out.

Strangely enough, against all critics and analyst's predictions, many other people blew off Grindhouse. It had a really poor showing at the box office, much to my surprise, 'cause it had some really great reviews and, what I consider, the best trailer of the year.



Cut to month's later, I finally rent Deathproof, and man I totally, friggin' suck for not paying to see it in the theatre!







I loved it. Deathproof is less a movie, more of a cinematic essay by Tarantino about a wide variety of topics, including but not limited to:

• exploitation films from the 70's and 80's;
• female characters in genre films

• the waning era of practical car stunts and the men and women who perform them;


• a primer on how to film an amazing car chase;
• a primer on how to write amazing dialogue;
• the wonderful world of music cues and sound editing;
• the crazy, lovable, totally crushable, Zoe Bell;


• the friggin' total awsomeness and cinema godness of Kurt Russell;


• the cinematic magnificance of a woman's butt; and
• Tarantino's long-suspected foot fetish.

The best things about this movie are the details. For example, the deliberately "bad" editing, distressted film stock and sound stutters that evoke that rich, exploitation film/grindhouse feeling, actress Tracy Thoms channeling Samuel L. Jackson right down to his crazy "pimp laugh" and the distinctive pronounciation of the word "motherfucker", and the rattles and squeaks eminating from Stuntman Mike's deathproof car. These details give the movie a larger depth, thus turning a simple slasher film into a work of art.


And as much as I want to big up the female stars of the movie, I'm going to take time in this blog to praise Kurt Russell. The dude rocks as Stuntman Mike! He easily pulls off the lazy charm and sadistic menace required for the role of a slasher movie killer, but when he totally loses it near the end, and goes all "Cowardly Lion", well friends, that just plain genius.

Since it's more fun watching Deathproof that writing about it, I'm gonna pop it into the DVD player and screen it again. It's good to be blogging again after such a long delay (work is a bitch, man, what can I say?). I'll see you guys again before long.


Cheers,


Ali