Death Proof



Perhaps Tarantino's only directorial 'flop' as it were, Death Proof is what all it's cynics say it is. A self-indulgent, low-budget yet highly-hyped foray into the depths of Tarantino's mind and perversions. Yet, even with that being said, it's still not as bad as people would lead you to believe.

The dialogue isn't as sassy as you'd expect from a cast almost entirely comprised of ladies, and the only part of this film other than the car chase that had me fully engaged was the conversation involving Stuntman Mike and the girl sitting at the bar. Stuntman Mike is a fantastic character, a withered old pervert who is easy to love and loathe simulataneously. He's an excellent creation in an otherwise mediocre film, which is a shame, as if Tarantino didn't become so obsessed with attempting to make a 'Grindhouse' feature, then he could have had a classic premise on his hands here.

The main problem with this film is the overwhelming amount of dialogue involving characters we really don't care that much for. The original line-up of female leads are given way too much screen time when they really don't have anything good to say at all. Then, alarmingly, they are killed off in a flash and we are left feeling cheated out the last 45 minutes that was spent trying to make us feel anything for any of them. It isn't enough that they're sexy, if they're going to be on the screen for so long then at least make them interesting, too. The next group of females are decidedly more likeable, lead by a fantastically tomboyish Zoe Bell. You feel that if the film focused more on this group, it would have been a lot more successful with dialogue.

Then there's the car chase, which, even with all the hype, wasn't as good as expected. The girls beat Stuntman Mike to death, and then it ends. Anti-climax...

Best Bit: The bullet in Stuntman Mike's arm and the realisation that he has now became the hunted and not the hunter.