"Grindhouse" review, the split view: "Death Proof"
By Erin Steele
April 8, 2007
Quentin Tarantino’s “Death Proof” isn’t so much a movie as a love letter, an obsessive ode to cinema’s seedy past that celebrates cars, crashes and kick-ass ladies. But this isn’t a letter written by hand -- it’s composed of a jagged alphabet torn from different magazines, a crazed, haphazard declaration that will leave you uneasy. “Planet Terror” might get to your gag reflex, but “Death Proof” gets under your skin.
But in the world of “Grindhouse,” this is far from a negativism. Indeed, “Death Proof” may be one of Tarantino’s boldest works yet, an example of how this great appreciator turns film history on its head. Drawing from such cult classics as “Vanishing Point,” Cronenberg’s “Crash,” “Gone in 60 Seconds” (but not that “Angelina Jolie bull****,” as one character says) and the entire Russ Meyer filmography, “Death Proof” is a thrill ride with a brain. The reason the aforementioned films found success isn’t just that they were goofball journeys into the taboo; it’s that, like “Death Proof’s” main character Stuntman Mike, there’s a little bit of voyeur in all of us.
It’s not obvious at first that Tarantino is deviating slightly from his earlier films. The first 15 minutes of “Death Proof” is quintessential Quentin, as his characters drive down abandoned Austin roads, dissecting the pop-culture terrain in the director’s trademark fashion. By the time they’re making conversation at the capital’s famed Texas Chili Parlor, you think you know where all of this is headed -- at least until you notice Kurt Russell’s scarfaced stunt driver sitting quietly in the corner.
From there, the narrative is no-holds-barred sexploitation, an adrenaline-filled look at twisted metal and even more twisted sexuality. Michael Parks, playing the same salty-tongued sheriff we were treated to in “Kill Bill,” is on hand to explain Stuntman Mike’s psychosis: His bizarre M.O. is born from a carnality bound to carnage. Like any classic Meyer villain, Mike is impotent without his killing machine, and this knowledge sets the stage for the second act of “Death Proof.”
It's here that the segment shifts gears, as the helpless leading ladies of the segment’s first half (a gaggle of stereotypical horror-movie staples) are replaced by a far more fearsome pack of females, played by Tracie Thoms, Rosario Dawson and Zoe Bell (Uma Thurman’s stunt double in “Kill Bill.”) These ladies love a thrill ride just as much as Mike, and when they decide to simultaneously test out a 1970 Dodge Challenger and a dangerous stunt, you can’t help but feel like “Death Proof’s” main menace might have just met his match.
Mike might be a killer driver, but these women are just as lethal on foot as they are behind the wheel, and as “Death Proof” turns into a game of reverse cat-and-mouse, it picks up an incredible amount of speed. I’ll leave the ending for you to discover, but it’s somewhat jarring (if unexpectedly satisfying) in both action and tone. “Death Proof” is Tarantino at his brilliant, unapologetic best.
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