Kill Bill: Vol. 2 (Quentin Tarantino)

The training.

At last, we've reached the epic conclusion of Quentin Tarantino's "Kill Bill" saga (Okay, let's just pretend that this is the first time that I have seen it), and unlike what many have expected it to be, "Kill Bill: Vol. 2" is surprisingly more patient, mature and emotionally articulate compared to its predecessor. 

If "Kill Bill: Vol. 1" is, as what Roger Ebert has stated in his review of the film, "all about storytelling and no story", this film, in comparison, is a perfect amalgamation of style and substance, which Quentin Tarantino has perfected in blending over the years. 

This time, we don't have any gargantuan swordfights between Uma Thurman's "The Bride" and 80 other men, but what we surely have in this picture is genuine drama and a hint of heart. But that does not necessarily mean that "Kill Bill: Vol. 2" does not have any time left for some genuinely pleasurable ass-kicking courtesy of our vengeful bride. It sure does, of course. It's only that the fight sequences and moments of cruelty are far more compelling and emotionally involving this time around. 

As much as I love the showdown at the House of Blue Leaves between the bride and O-Ren Ishii's (played by Lucy Liu in "Kill Bill: Vol. 1") "Crazy 88" in "Kill Bill: Vol.1", there's honestly little to no emotional connection between me and the very essence of the blood-drenched sword ballet whatsoever. But here in this film, we are now more drawn and more empathetic towards the bride's self-imposed task of exacting revenge against those who literally gunned her down. Damn, we know that she can survive the House of Blue Leaves showdown in the first volume. But now, with "Kill Bill: Vol. 2" taking on a more grounded approach, can she still handle it all? 

In the first film, we are quite affectionate towards the bride's revenge but we are just too awed with the visual stylishness on display that we take her path of destructive revenge in the first film merely as a showcase of Tarantino's auteur flamboyance. But with "Kill Bill: Vol. 2" now preferring a slower pace, evidently shown in the film's opening scene of the bride's serene wedding dress rehearsal minutes before Bill and company blow her and her loved ones away, we are now more acquainted with the bride not just as a character that simply represents Tarantino's patented cinematic style but as a living, breathing character with a highly justifiable motive behind her every slicing of limbs and poking out of eyeballs. 

We are also introduced more to Elle Driver (Daryl Hannah), the eye-patched femme fatale who's the most painful thorn within the bride's throat next to Bill himself, and Bud (Michael Madsen), Bill's slacker of a brother who also had a hand in the infamous pre-wedding massacre. Oh and then there's also Pai Mei, played by Gordon Liu (who has already played the "Crazy 88" leader in "Kill Bill: Vol. 1"), a kung-fu master that's obviously Quentin Tarantino's great ode to the stereotypical 'martial arts master' character in countless genre films of the past with his overlong white mustache and exaggeratedly thick and contoured white eyebrows. 

And finally, there's Bill, played by David Carradine in what may be his most memorable character next only to Caine in "Kung Fu". Possessing the looks of a murderously ragged old man yet armed with the gentle demeanor of an old-fashioned lover, Carradine has perfectly captured the essence of Bill. For the record, I believe that Bill is not a villain as per what the word's typical meaning denotes. For that, Tarantino is truly commendable in how he has handled this particular character perfectly. 

There's a moment in the film where Bill, now face to face with the bride herself, explains himself as to why he has done the murderous deed. As if stating that his violent nature is imprinted deep within his soul and cannot be erased, he simply stated that he's a downright murderous bastard and he just acted based on his immediate compulsions when he found out that the bride, his former flame, is now about to be married to someone else. Though it cannot be denied that Bill is the monstrous incarnation of aggressive masculinity (he can't take romantic defeat), Quentin Tarantino is emotionally aware enough to depict Bill as a villain that's capable of explaining himself. 

For some, "Kill Bill: Vol. 2's" climax is highly anti-climactic because it has not exceeded the bar that the first film has set in terms of confrontational swordfights and bone-crashing fisticuffs. But seeing the dramatic potential of such a tale of revenge, Tarantino chose to be more calmly elegiac with it rather than being shallowly aggressive. It may not have ended with both barrels blazing (or 'both katanas shining' if you want to remain consistent with the martial arts analogy) in terms of action-packed physicality, but the film is still highly satisfying not because of its physical pay-off but because of its ultimate emotional confrontation between the vengeful woman and the man who has made this feeling possible within her. 

"Revenge is a dish best served cold" is the film's opening quote. For the bride, she served it straight from the freezer, but still, tears were shed. Revenge is a sad venture, and the film is fully aware of that fact.

FINAL RATING

Kill Bill: Vol. 1 (Quentin Tarantino)

The showdown.

Always the master of cinematic homages, Quentin Tarantino now offers us a martial arts genre-inspired, revenge-themed film that's best served cold. It's a film that highlights, in bright crimson red, the stupendously over-the-top craziness of martial arts films and how it has captured the imagination of many people who were lucky enough to have seen such pictures. But aside from being an ode to the martial arts genre, "Kill Bill: Vol. 1" is also a fiery introduction to what may be one of the most resonant revenge tales of recent memory.

In a world inhabited by code-bound katana makers (like Sonny Chiba as Hattori Hanzo here) and evil martial arts masters, it would have been out of place to put a frail blonde woman in the middle of it all. But Tarantino, now a filmmaker that has already reached his utmost potential for gender maturity, just did, and the result is truly rewarding. Quite ironic, really, for a director whose first film, the neo-gangster classic "Reservoir Dogs" doesn't even contain a single female character.

And with that, "Kill Bill: Vol. 1" has succeeded in showcasing Tarantino's directorial flair and sheer passion for, this time, everything martial arts. It simulates, as it renders a bygone era of martial arts films in a reinvigorated light, what it's like to be witnessing an old-fashioned film glazed with the language of the fist and the code of the sword once again.

Heightened by Uma Thurman's great performance as the vengeful bride on an unmercifully violent path of revenge who will stop at nothing until, well, he can finally kill the titular Bill, the film's effectiveness is not much because of the plot but because of how this seemingly tired story of blood-soaked revenge has trickily found its way into the screen looking completely different and strangely beautiful once again.

Some playfulness with non-linear narrative on one side, some animation here (one of the most striking features of the film) and a subtly powerful use of 'chapters' there; the clever amalgamation of these aspects has not just made the film something that's truly riveting to watch at surface level but also an intensely unforgettable portrait of what wonders a truly passionate cinephile of a filmmaker like Tarantino can do for a genre that's seemingly buried by time.

Going back to the very narrative, we can simply say that it's a story of a woman's revenge against a former flame that has attempted to kill her, but didn't. So what? What then? What's new? We are repeatedly being fed with films drenched in fearlessly bloodletting vendettas such as this one, with one being crueler yet less fascinating than the previous one. So, again, what's with all the fuss?

Well, the answers for all of those lie within the very film itself. The film, for a lack of a better persuasion coming from yours truly, needs to be seen to be believed. To be seen as a highly stylish action film. To be believed as a truly unique cinematic experience.

"Kill Bill: Vol. 1" may not possess the complexity or depth of "Pulp Fiction", but at the end of the day, its distinction as a great Tarantino film by its own right lies not within the plot or the characters themselves but within the courage of pulling off such a film and how it was done in the most brilliant of ways and the most outlandishly exceptional of styles.

In a time where movies wallow on old ideas that pretend to be something new, it's invigorating to watch a film that's humble enough to embrace old ideas but ingenious enough to render it familiar yet fresh all at the same breath. This film may not necessarily be the 'one' that will immortalize the martial arts genre, but it sure has put the seemingly forgotten genre into prominence once more, and dare declared the greatness of its peculiar aesthetics.

FINAL RATING

Jackie Brown (Quentin Tarantino)

Across 110th street.

Known for his brash and trashy, but ultimately brilliant, cinematic sensibilities, "Jackie Brown" may unusually be Quentin Tarantino's subtlest film to date. With its characters more focused on committing actions based on the narrative's impulses rather than on raw characterization, Quentin Tarantino, a filmmaker who would rather dwell on what his characters are thinking than what the story dictates upon them to do, may very well be out of his groove in this film. 

An adaptation of Elmore Leonard's double-cross novel, "Rum Punch", a book that is highly enjoyable and bursts of great literary energy, "Jackie Brown" is a plot-based screen adaptation that does not expose its characters through the trivialities of a hustle and bustle life that made Tarantino a cinematic household name but merely through the very strict context of the film's central conflict. 

Immediately greeting us with the image of Ordell Robbie (Samuel L. Jackson) and Louis Gara (Robert De Niro) slouched on a sofa watching the former's self-produced 'gun' movies, an image that has been the very representative of "Jackie Brown" in much the same way that Uma Thurman in a "Game of Death" motorcycle suit is to "Kill Bill", the film begins without that initially puzzling opening chapter in the novel which dwelled on a Neo-Nazi parade and instead started headstrong to tell, through a seminal image and the dialogue, who these two main characters are and what they do: Ordell, a street smart gun dealer, and Louis, a fresh from prison low life who's taken in by the former, his old pal, for a job. 

Unlike Tarantino's "Reservoir Dogs" and "Pulp Fiction", both of which begun with not so relevant opening conversations, "Jackie Brown", proving Tarantino's intent to direct against his staple style, is evidently tight in its storytelling that it dared not to let its characters fall that much on some small, unrelated talks just for the mere sake of it. 

One of the great aspects of the film, aside from Tarantino's rapid dialogue, is the casting itself. Elmore Leonard, a novelist more concerned with how his sleazy story would play out more than his character's back stories, still has properly conveyed in "Rum Punch" how his characters would look and act like. Except for the obvious main character change from a middle-aged white woman named Jackie Burke in the novel to a smoky, middle-aged African-American woman named Jackie Brown here and the complete overhaul of Bridget Fonda's Melanie character, the film is particularly spot-on with the characters, their demeanors, and how their literary interactions would translate into film. 

The story, in simple terms, is about the eponymous character's thrilling attempt to play the cops and Ordell with each other so that she can be able to escape with the latter's half a million dollar payoff, with a bail bondsman named Max Cherry (Robert Forster) assisting her in the process. But with Tarantino exercising his usual dry wit, the 'thrilling' part has been, in a way, transformed into an edgier brand of dark humor which has been one of the reasons for Tarantino's directorial successes.

As much as possible depriving the more tense sequences of generic musical scores, these particular moments, instead, have been perfectly peppered not with musical accompaniments but with an underlying humor that has been greatly established in the film's earlier scenes that it's like you're part of Jackie Brown's intent to scam everybody but is secretly smirking, with sweating forehead and all, while you're doing it. 

But then there's also the film's problem, which is the utter devaluation of Max Cherry's emotional connection to her estranged wife; an aspect of the story that has been finely tackled in the novel but is entirely absent in this film. Because of this, Max Cherry has been rendered as Jackie's stiff, lovelorn accessory and nothing more. It's a shame because, as far as characterizations are concerned, I think Max Cherry is the most fleshed-out of all the characters in the novel, which serves as an antidote for "Rum Punch's" half-serious and caricature-like portrayal of the criminal underworld.

As for the performances, there's nothing much that can be said about it because both Sam Jackson and Robert De Niro have, time and time again, proved that they are the staple greats of this industry, especially in portraying hard-edged criminal roles. Even Bridget Fonda is great as Melanie. But I, for the life of me, can't fathom how such a beautiful junkie like her can get into any man's nerve THAT easily (you'll see why). Oh, well, maybe the word 'junkie' does. While Pam Grier, one of the most resonant faces of the '70s blaxploitation scene, made the Jackie Brown character her very own that it's just difficult to read "Rum Punch", with a prior idea of who plays who here in "Jackie Brown", without imagining Jackie Burke as Pam Grier no matter the descriptions.

By Tarantino's standards, "Jackie Brown" may very well be the least violent of his films but is also the least natural one. It's quite obvious that this film has made Quentin exert the additional effort to pull it all off in the name of giving the source novel some screen justice. There's also this sense of inhibition in "Jackie Brown" that suggests the idea that QT has been utterly reserved all along and is quite cautious to pull out all of the tricks in his sleeves for this one. Maybe it's really just better for Quentin Tarantino to make films based on self-indulgent inspirations, not pure adaptations. 

But to end on a positive note, who would have thought that this is a 2 and a half hour film? Some may point out that the running time made the film a bit sluggish as it goes, but I never felt it. In some ways, I may have even preferred it more if "Jackie Brown" runs for 3 solid hours so that it can properly cover Max Cherry's emotional conflict regarding his divorce plans for his wife and may even leave enough time for that little Neo-Nazi mission spearheaded by Ordell Robbie himself. And the ending, well, it couldn't have been handled better.

FINAL RATING

Pulp Fiction (Quentin Tarantino)

Vincent, Jules and the divine intervention.

Oh, how "Pulp Fiction" exemplifies the very meaning of the phrase 'it gets better after every viewing'. One can watch this film any way he/she wants to. If you're in a mood for a pretty slick, densely-written comedy of characters and choices, then there's nowhere to look further than this film. If you're in for some pop culture-laden crime film, then "Pulp Fiction" it still is.

Now, if you may initially think that this film is nothing but a shallowly self-indulgent farce that extracts its energy and ideas from worn-out B-movie references and obscure music, then simply look at it through Jules Winnfield's (the immortalized Samuel L. Jackson) desensitized eyes. It will immediately turn into a film of staggering, multi-layered power, and a rough-edged ode towards spiritual redemption and hard-bound honor, which is what the film is really all about, at least in my view.

But do not get me wrong about that 'selective exposure'-type subjective viewing that I have recommended. I mean, it can still be enjoyed in its immediate layer of violence and involving dialogues. But "Pulp Fiction", unlike any other films not just of its kind but of any films in general, gets better every time you dig a little bit deeper. There's little to no doubt why critics have endlessly analyzed the film ranging from its theological relevance to its devilish undercurrents (Did Marsellus Wallace's really sold his soul to the devil?). Many people have since relished all that's been there, surface-wise. Now it's time to further the appreciation.

There have been countless deconstructions, theorizing and analogizing (I'm not even counting how many speculations have been formulated regarding the content of Marsellus Wallace's briefcase) that have occurred and transpired ever since this film claimed one of the uppermost pedestals of postmodern cinema so that it can rightfully stand side-by side with the seminal works of Jean-Luc Godard.

"Pulp Fiction" has also created a colorful, albeit violence-laden, alternate reality where gangsters may kill in cold blood and talk about foot massages and cheeseburgers and rejected TV pilots at the same breath. A parallel but infinitely peculiar netherworld where normal-looking fellows can ably run pawn shops the same way they can also be dangerous homosexual perverts.

But the film, a masterful merging of spontaneous articulacy and empirical pop culture knowledge by Quentin Tarantino, Quentin Tarantino (I just have to mention him twice) and Roger Avary (who both deservedly won an Oscar for the film's unique screenplay), ceased to be just a cynical exploration of the wholeness of crime.

For a film that consists of sex, drugs and violence that blur the boundaries that separate it from the thematic commonalities of a typical B-grade fare, Tarantino and Avary infused their subtly hopeful sides into it to provoke, balance, and substantiate the transgressive nature that they have visually depicted all throughout the film. "Pulp Fiction", with its ironic mixture of cruelty and humanity, displays an unorthodox poise that makes it even more special and, to a certain extent, quite illuminating.

There's not much to say regarding its top-notch all-star cast, with Sam Jackson, John Travolta (as Vincent Vega) and Uma Thurman (as Mia Wallace) delivering the highlight performances, and with Bruce Willis as prizefighter Butch Coolidge serving as our rare glimpse of heroism that may either be self-serving, unconditional or both.

But what really served as the film's transition point from darkness to light is Jules' powerful dual delivery of the "Ezekiel 25:17" Bible verse. Notice his initial delivery that seems to be an oratorical expression of superficial, god-like anger. Then compare it to his enlightened utterance of the said verse in the film's final scenes. For people who may say that "Pulp Fiction" is nothing but a pretentious, overwritten mess that has an almost 3-hour running time but does not even have anything concrete to say at all, take a look at the tonal difference between the two line deliveries and how Jules, in the latter enunciation, stresses the line about how he tries real hard to be a shepherd with glittering conviction. It's just stunning.

Sometimes, it's not mainly the narrative that hands out change, but the characters themselves. Consider Winston Wolf's (Harvey Keitel) unforgettable remark: "Just because you are a character doesn't mean that you have character." Fortunately, Jules surely is and certainly has.

FINAL RATING

True Romance (Tony Scott)

Into Hollywood with an agenda of their own.

Although directed by Tony Scott, "True Romance" is, from all sides, taken over by Quentin Tarantino's (who have written the screenplay along with Roger Avary) trademark brushstrokes of unrelenting references to B-movies, stylishly vulgar dialogues and killer MacGuffins. The film is also a perfect ensemble exercise of character acting, featuring such greats as Christopher Walken, Dennis Hopper, Gary Oldman and a whole lot of others.

Clarence and Alabama, whose relationship was described almost sarcastically in the film's very title, were perfectly played with the needed air of 'go for luck', 'not a care in the world', 'against all odds' romance by both Christian Slater and Patricia Arquette. Now, when I look back at the very beginning, I think that the complications ironically came from the very manifestation of love between the two itself. When I heard Alabama deliver the line 'It was so romantic' after (SPOILER) Clarence killed Drexl her pimp, they surely are in for some romantic distortions, and so are we.

It all began when Clarence, all alone in a triple billing theater watching Sonny Chiba's (used later by Tarantino as Hattori Hanzo in "Kill Bill") movies, was suddenly covered with popcorn (yes, it was THAT cheesy) via Alabama's clumsy slip. After a small talk, they went for a pie, read some comic books and, as expected, into the anticipated heat of the night.

However, it was then revealed that everything, from the initial encounter (explaining the popcorn trick) up to their sexual climax, were planned and that Alabama was hired by Clarence's boss for his birthday. But then, Alabama was guilty. They hugged each other. After the artificial fling, still, love it really was indeed.

From those basic blueprints, one can see how these initial sequences can also properly fit within the premise of a tiring mid '90s comedy romance film (an everyman falling for a prostitute with a heart). But with brash Tarantino with the pen and action stylist Tony Scott at the helm, expect this romantic idealism be unraveled, be taken down piece by piece, then be put back together. We got here a turbulent love story.

With the help of the cocaine MacGuffin and some satiric intent, "True Romance" also fearlessly entered a part of Hollywood's immoral side, the retaliative urgency of the mob and the egotism in the police division not just to serve as morally imperfect backdrops for Clarence and Alabama's romance but also to give an inexorable portrait of human desperation and the intertwining of situational fates.

And even though I think that the film's climax was a bit rushed and too 'explosive' that it almost seems out of place in great contrast to its carefully progressive, well-written narrative establishment, nevertheless, the film has delivered enough goods to be considerably well-remembered as a high-notched blazing craziness that fully belongs to both the crime and romance genre.

Oh, and you want a definition of pure cinematic gold? Take note of the Sicilian scene. Hopper and Walken on a verbal dance of fear-inducement and sarcasms. Astounding. Just astounding. And after writing this, I've stumbled upon a "True Romance" film review describing the particular scene with the same, exact word (astounding) as I've used. Oh, the beauty of appreciative coincidence.

FINAL RATING