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Kill Bill Volume 1
Review by Jane Robertson (Jane's bio)
Directed by Quentin Tarantino
Written by Quentin Tarantino
The Bride role by Quentin Tarantino & Uma Thurman
Uma Thurman . . . The Bride, Black Mamba
David Carradine . . . Bill
Lucy Liu . . . O-Ren Ishii, Cottonmouth
Daryl Hannah . . . Elle Driver, California Mountain Snake
Vivica A. Fox . . . Vernita Green, Copperhead
MPAA: Rated R for strong bloody violence, language and some sexual content.
Faced with too much story, director and writer Quentin Tarantino chopped Kill Bill in half and thus chopped his critics off at the knees. How can you critique, with any certainty, a movie with only a beginning and half a middle? You can say only what you know so far:
The martial arts action is spectacular.
The filmmaking techniques are uncommon.
The plot—so far—is hideous.
Tarantino may be a pussycat as a person, but as a filmmaker he loves grit and gore. We already knew that (Pulp Fiction, Reservoir Dogs). He feasts on black humor, laid-back murder, and disjointed backgrounds. Once again, he shares them all with his audience.
His story begins with a wedding. This particular Bride (Uma Thurman, who helped write her role) is not lovely; she has sustained a bullet wound to the head. Her wedding day has become a pageant of slaughter, and she, heavily pregnant, almost doesn't survive.
Four years later, when she finally regains consciousness, the Bride sets out on a determined trek of revenge. Using the skills she has previously honed as a member of a hit squad, she goes after all those who engineered the massacre—including Bill (David Carradine), the one who gazed into her eyes as he shot her.
In Vol. 1 the Bride enjoys—if that's the word—partial success with her mission. In other words, people die by her hand, numbers of them. And questions arise, especially the electric last line of the film, that pull us almost against our will toward Vol. 2.
No, getting even isn't a Christian value. When doing so is almost solely the main character's motivation, it's hard to condone her actions. However, like a black cat with a few white hairs at the throat, she carries a glimmer of light in the darkness of her character. Until we see what she does with that, then we don't know if this film is a morality tale or an exercise in evil.
Meanwhile, if you can avert your eyes from the catsup and cynicism, you can revel in the dazzling action, a breathtaking setting or two, and several of Tarantino's whimsical cinematic ideas. There's also some acting to celebrate, though this time it might make more sense to applaud the hours Thurman (Pulp Fiction, Gattaca, The Truth About Cats & Dogs) must have spent at the gym.
Without knowing what entrée is on Tarantino's menu, it would be a mistake to criticize his soup and salad courses as not being a full meal. He never said they would be. However, they aren't devoid of nourishment. We've already seen that when the Bride wins she loses. She walks alone in the world, staring down daunting odds, bearing slash marks, exhaling exhaustion. If she succeeds further, will she fail more?
While Tarantino amply earns his R rating, he does beg the question: Is there value in learning about the seamy side of life? There are lifestyles that exude what looks like glamour—until you catch a shiny red glob of it on your Japanese steel.
Like a dubious judge, we'll give Tarantino a little leeway and suggest that the strong-stomached may want to see Kill Bill Vol. 1. But if Quentin the Queasy-Maker can't satisfy us, in the end the ruling will go against him.
Copyright 2003, Jane Robertson. All Rights Reserved. Used by permission.
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About Jane Robertson: Jane contributed to Chicken Soup for the Soul Celebrates Mothers, the Dawkins Project's CeLEBRATIONS: Notes to My Grandfather, and Kimberly Ripley's next Breath Deeply collection, all forthcoming. An editor for the nature magazine Snowy Egret, Jane wrote about a Scottish immigrant in Hope Was Worth the Risk, published in 1995.
E-mail Jane |
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