Kill Bill Vol. 1

Quentin Tarantino spent 1997 to 2003 coasting on his critical reputation. By the time he came back with his two-part Kill Bill, critics were salivating over the latest work of the wunderkind who gave us Pulp Fiction and Jackie Brown, and Tarantino's ego had concurrently swollen to Himalayan heights. Unfortunately, due to these factors, Tarantino didn't seem compelled to make a film that continued the creative storytelling, stylish direction and clever use of filmic references that made his earlier films a treat. Instead, with Kill Bill he goes for pure cartoonish kitsch, creating a blood-spattered, nonsensical waste of time that has little appeal for anyone not a confirmed Tarantino fanboy. The critical adulation this film has garnered is beyond me; I guess some people are really just gore mavens at heart.

A mysterious woman known only as the Bride (Uma Thurman) is the only survivor of a brutal massacre at an El Paso wedding chappel. We learn quickly that she is part of the Deadly Vipers Assassination Squad, a group of elite hired killers led by Bill (David Carradine), her fiancee, who double-crossed her, leaving her for dead and killing her unborn baby. Now the Bride begins a blood-soaked vendetta against Bill and his treacherous henchmen, including Tokyo mob boss O-Ren Ishii (Lucy Liu), semi-retired Vernita Green (Vivica A. Fox), the one-eyed Elle Driver (Daryl Hannah) and the fatalistic Budd (Michael Madsen).

Kill Bill is intended as a stylish homage to the '70s exploitation excrement that Tarantino so cherishes, including Bruce Lee and Shaw Brothers martial arts flicks, slimeball spaghetti westerns, and (God help us) Billy Jack. Unlike his earlier works, which used these films as a touchstone for creative and original stories, Tarantino just restages scenes from said films with odd style flourishes and endless fountains of spurting blood. Kill Bill doesn't give the impression, as does, say, Jackie Brown, of a director creatively weaving homages into the fabric of a solid film; it seems like a lazy, self-indulgent director, his ego swollen to galactic proportions by critical praise and fanboy adulation, forcing us to share in his warped memories of a childhood watching schlock. But that's just me.

Tarantino's direction is fine on a technical level, with some interestingly-staged fight scenes and creative cinematography by Robert Richardson, but the movie is pretty much all action and there's no real set-up to any of the set pieces, only the faintest glimmer of plot and no drive or energy to speak of. The ridiculous amounts of fake blood, showy in-scene style changes, over-the-top, ludicrously hardboiled dialogue and non-stop action scenes may be intentionally cheesy, but that makes them no more enjoyable to me. Yeah, QT, I'm glad you've seen a lot of Shaw Brothers flicks, and that you have the soundtracks to Twisted Nerve and Death Rides a Horse on your iPod, but that just makes your film a two-hour game of Scene It. A good movie would creatively use said homages rather than throwing them at the viewer, something you once knew, but seem to have forgotten (a conclusion cemented by the similarly onanistic, if more enjoyable, Inglourious Basterds). But when you have an infinite number of fanboys and fawning critics sucking your dick, I suppose none of that matters, eh wot?

Uma Thurman does what she can with a one-dimensional part, making the Bride a force of righteous anger and making the action scenes (almost) believable. Lucy Liu gives perhaps a career-best turn as O-Ren Ishii, a character who actually is developed (largely through a lengthy anime scene) and makes a strong impression. Vivica A. Fox (is it a coincidence that the film features two of the stars of Batman and Robin? Probably, and not a very interesting one either) does well in a small role, though David Carradine, Daryl Hannah and Michael Madsen are left out to dry. Asian actors Sonny Chiba, Chiaki Kuriyama and Chia Hui Liu make an impression, and the lovely Julie Dreyfuss acquits herself well in a thankless role.

Kill Bill Vol. 1 is a load of self-indulgent excess, and excrement of the most fetid variety. It's entirely possible that Part 2 is an improvement, but I would argue that's no great achievement. Part of me can appreciate Mr. Tarantiono's engaging in showmanship for showmanship's sake, but the greater part of me wishes he'd do something genuinely worthwhile.