Sometimes I bewilder myself. I have now watched every feature film directed in full by Quentin Tarantino, despite not expecting to like them overall. These two are popular -- the first is still in IMDb's top 250 -- but what I knew of them gave me reasons to deprioritize. Perhaps a warning that they would stop streaming on Netflix this month increased my interest, along with a realization that people still talk about them from time to time. I split the four-hour collective runtime over two days. I wasn't sure I'd go on to the second volume, but the first ends very unsatisfying by design.
Beatrix (Uma Thurman) is a globe-trotting hitwoman until a pregnancy inspires her to turn over a new leaf. She tries to marry under an alias, but jealous ex-boss Bill (David Carradine) has everyone at the wedding rehearsal shot. Only Beatrix survives, waking from a four-year coma and swearing to kill all five of her former co-workers (among them Vivica Fox, Lucy Liu, Michael Madsen, and Daryl Hannah) for their part in the massacre, along with anyone else who gets in the way.
I can't help thinking of John Wick, another amazing assassin coming out of retirement for a simple revenge plot. It's hard to say who's more antiheroic, less believable, or likelier to win against the other, but Beatrix garners more of my sympathy. I just wish she weren't determined to kill her most reformed enemies, as if doing so would make anything better.
For such a morbid premise and no comic relief, things don't play out all that seriously. Some of the action evokes the schlockiest '70s flicks, over the top even for Tarantino. Good thing I've been playing a Mortal Kombat game this year so I could be desensitized to the unrealistic gore, which is largely concentrated in one scene in Vol. 1. Violence aside, having a White protagonist start out by killing a Black woman (albeit out of chronological order) and then winning with a katana against dozens of Asians (her White victims being in Vol. 2) seems problematic now. At least there's not as much swearing or drug use as in Pulp Fiction. And while sex talk comes up a bit, Tarantino continues to present nothing steamier than bare feet.
I frequently found myself asking, "Why did they do that?" -- in reference to the filmmakers, not the characters. Why switch to black and white or animation for some parts? Why bleep Beatrix's name until midway thru Vol. 2? Why bother with so much backstory? The easiest answer each time is that Tarantino loves making tributes, however obscure. I wouldn't be surprised if the assassins' use of more serpentine codenames than Luke Cage villains was inspired by Five Deadly Venoms.
Alas, the combination of styles comes to feel less artistic than sloppy after a while. The pacing is terrible. I get the feeling Tarantino just wanted to throw together a bunch of things he likes with little regard to the gestalt. That may go over well with likeminded viewers, but I'm not one of them.
Will I see his eventual 10th picture? Probably, if it becomes a common focus of discussion. In a theater? Unlikely. I wouldn't mind if he quit while he was ahead.
No comments:
Post a Comment