4.20.2004
kill bill, vol. 2
reading over some of the reviews of kill bill, vol. 2, i have to say my impression is a little different than most of what i skimmed over. having loved vol.1 as only a nerdy kung fu fan can, i was a little disappointed with the second installment, even though-- as a whole-- i think it's a pretty compotent statement from someone who clearly could have glided along on his coattails at this point and got away with it.
one important consistency between both films is the immense affection with which everything is rendered. to accuse tarantino of whipping up a lazy pastiche of geeky genres misses the point, i think. everywhere in both of these films-- in the performances, in the fight scenes, in the music, in the set design-- is a profound respect for the material that inspired them, and when these elements are viewed as a whole, the result retains a sense of the sacred. true, this is a geek boy's sense of the sacred, but didn't we all know that going in??? to go further, one thing that seperates the bills from many similar films is the respect afforded to each of its characters. this is particularly true of vol. 2, where every character, good or evil, ends up seeming strangely admirable. tarantino manages to be decisively one-dimensional in a certain sense-- the films , in the abstract, can be read as pure fluff. and yet, within its superficiality (perhaps even partially as a result of it), each character emerges as multi-dimensional even as they chop heads and spew sub-par philosophical bullshit.
as i posted a bit earlier this month (alongside my reaction to the ethics of the real, of all things), i found the singularity of vol.1 to be strangely effective. many reviews accused it of being tiresome and pointless. but that's part of the deal. kung fu is infinitely tiresome the majority of the time(in a narrative sense), and the emphasis is placed almost entirely on the theatrical mutilation of bodies. if you don't enjoy that, then vol.1 ain't the flick for you. tarantino is always more honest about his sadism than most filmmakers, so the exremities of his limb-hacking and head-chopping seemed fine to me (i think of a quote of john waters' about how saving private ryan could never have exsisted were it not for herschell gordon lewis). furthermore, his sadism is far more popcorn-movie enjoyable than many other "extreme" directors (takashi miike, sam peckinpah), who can occasionally ruin the fun by trying too hard to push your buttons.
the indifference to context gave vol. 1 a strange nobility. thurman's character was all the more engaging due to a kind of emptiness. she appeared unconcerned about anything other than a simple goal, and her merciless conviction made the film unconventional-- and diabolical. the film's structural clarity and movie-nerd megalomania combined to surpass its dependence on the b-flicks of the past. it felt original.
vol. 2 maintains 100% of the affection of vol. 1, even as it does away with much of the violence (which i didn't neccesarily miss, i might add). and when the storyline remains structural, it's effective in the same way that earlier tarantino fare is (the accidental car-shooting of pulp fiction, for example). there's an infintely enjoyable bit revolving around a coffin, which unravels into a fun back-story involving gordon liu (in his second seperate role) as the typical old kung fu master, complete with furry silver eyebrows.
(what follows is a bit of a spoiler, if you care)
but when tarantino decides to add "depth," he falls short. set to sweeping, morricone-ish theme music, "the bride" finally reveals her true reason for leaving bill and her life of intrigue behind. she became a mother. which is perhaps stereotype numero uno in the book of movie patriarchy. it's the old woman-defends-her-child bit. and with it goes all of vol.1's wicked urgency. thurman becomes labeled, and accordingly confined. and it's not just sexist, it's boring. you'd think tarantino'd have internalized enough film theory at this point to avoid such a cliché. but there it is.
now, fortunately, the acting here is so good that nuanced performaces make up for it. and the initial scene where "the bride" discovers her child is still alive is incredibly well staged (as well as a reminder that tarantino can do more than just "action"). but it puts all the philosophizing into a new light. with this declaration of intent (which retains all of the bombast of everything else in the film), the philosophical digressions about superman and "being wise beyond your years" aquire a new weight. and tarantino simply isn't very good with this sort of stuff. he sounds like kevin smith trying to pull of eric rohmer. it's disappointing.
but everything else is pretty great. and the fight between uma and daryl hannah is so fucking bad-ass that the rest of it could have sucked eggs and i still would have liked it. fun, fun stuff.
one important consistency between both films is the immense affection with which everything is rendered. to accuse tarantino of whipping up a lazy pastiche of geeky genres misses the point, i think. everywhere in both of these films-- in the performances, in the fight scenes, in the music, in the set design-- is a profound respect for the material that inspired them, and when these elements are viewed as a whole, the result retains a sense of the sacred. true, this is a geek boy's sense of the sacred, but didn't we all know that going in??? to go further, one thing that seperates the bills from many similar films is the respect afforded to each of its characters. this is particularly true of vol. 2, where every character, good or evil, ends up seeming strangely admirable. tarantino manages to be decisively one-dimensional in a certain sense-- the films , in the abstract, can be read as pure fluff. and yet, within its superficiality (perhaps even partially as a result of it), each character emerges as multi-dimensional even as they chop heads and spew sub-par philosophical bullshit.
as i posted a bit earlier this month (alongside my reaction to the ethics of the real, of all things), i found the singularity of vol.1 to be strangely effective. many reviews accused it of being tiresome and pointless. but that's part of the deal. kung fu is infinitely tiresome the majority of the time(in a narrative sense), and the emphasis is placed almost entirely on the theatrical mutilation of bodies. if you don't enjoy that, then vol.1 ain't the flick for you. tarantino is always more honest about his sadism than most filmmakers, so the exremities of his limb-hacking and head-chopping seemed fine to me (i think of a quote of john waters' about how saving private ryan could never have exsisted were it not for herschell gordon lewis). furthermore, his sadism is far more popcorn-movie enjoyable than many other "extreme" directors (takashi miike, sam peckinpah), who can occasionally ruin the fun by trying too hard to push your buttons.
the indifference to context gave vol. 1 a strange nobility. thurman's character was all the more engaging due to a kind of emptiness. she appeared unconcerned about anything other than a simple goal, and her merciless conviction made the film unconventional-- and diabolical. the film's structural clarity and movie-nerd megalomania combined to surpass its dependence on the b-flicks of the past. it felt original.
vol. 2 maintains 100% of the affection of vol. 1, even as it does away with much of the violence (which i didn't neccesarily miss, i might add). and when the storyline remains structural, it's effective in the same way that earlier tarantino fare is (the accidental car-shooting of pulp fiction, for example). there's an infintely enjoyable bit revolving around a coffin, which unravels into a fun back-story involving gordon liu (in his second seperate role) as the typical old kung fu master, complete with furry silver eyebrows.
(what follows is a bit of a spoiler, if you care)
but when tarantino decides to add "depth," he falls short. set to sweeping, morricone-ish theme music, "the bride" finally reveals her true reason for leaving bill and her life of intrigue behind. she became a mother. which is perhaps stereotype numero uno in the book of movie patriarchy. it's the old woman-defends-her-child bit. and with it goes all of vol.1's wicked urgency. thurman becomes labeled, and accordingly confined. and it's not just sexist, it's boring. you'd think tarantino'd have internalized enough film theory at this point to avoid such a cliché. but there it is.
now, fortunately, the acting here is so good that nuanced performaces make up for it. and the initial scene where "the bride" discovers her child is still alive is incredibly well staged (as well as a reminder that tarantino can do more than just "action"). but it puts all the philosophizing into a new light. with this declaration of intent (which retains all of the bombast of everything else in the film), the philosophical digressions about superman and "being wise beyond your years" aquire a new weight. and tarantino simply isn't very good with this sort of stuff. he sounds like kevin smith trying to pull of eric rohmer. it's disappointing.
but everything else is pretty great. and the fight between uma and daryl hannah is so fucking bad-ass that the rest of it could have sucked eggs and i still would have liked it. fun, fun stuff.
