“Kill Bill (Volume 2)”




 

 

"Kill Bill (Volume 2)"


Directed by: Quentin Tarantino


Starring: Uma Thurman, David Carradine, Michael Madsen and Darryl Hannah


Rated: R (strong violent content and adult language)


Running time: 137 minutes


Best suited for: Tarantino fans


Least suited for: non-Tarantino fans


Acorn Rating Guide:


For Tarantino fans:

For non-Tarantino fans:

"Kill Bill, Volume 2" begins where last year’s "Kill Bill, Volume 1" ended, with the nameless Bride (Uma Thurman) seeking revenge on her former boss and lover, the infamous killer Bill, played with cool, lethal eloquence by David Carradine. "Vol. 2" is less a sequel than the concluding half of a high-camp kung-fu parable/parody. Long film? Great concept! Give the audience a nine-month intermission and charge twice!


Yet in its own splendidly silly way, "Vol. 2" is worth both the wait and the price. Yes, it’s pure shlock but it’s also pure Tarantino. The man is to film what Stephen King is to horror fiction—a master at creating pop icons. "Kill Bill" is incendiary, controversial, even shocking. But isn’t that what the medium was meant to be? If you find yourself taking this film too seriously (or for that matter, even remotely seriously), you’re missing the point.


While I’ve been griping lately about comic book characters making the dismal transition to the silver screen, "Kill Bill" is the concept in reverse. It’s a film that emulates the breathless, page-turning fury of those once-forbidden comics—the kind of cheesy pulp that gave your parents conniptions. "Kill Bill" is quintessential comic-book fodder at 24 frames per second—adult-oriented, blood-splattered, adrenalin-charged action.


There are numerous improbabilities in this one, although none greater than The Bride’s surviving her own wedding-chapel massacre in "Vol. 1." Tarantino loves to run Ms. Thurman through a gauntlet of spectacularly gruesome and utterly implausible near-death experiences. (Numerous Freudian myths surround director Alfred Hitchcock’s emotional attachment to his leading ladies, and I suspect there are numerous myths-in-progress regarding Tarantino’s affinity toward Ms. Thurman. On some deeply emotional level, "Kill Bill" is really a four-hour psychotherapy session. One can begin to feel squeamishly voyeuristic watching these two films.) But cinema is the ultimate revelation. And such is the nature of the comic book hero—or heroine. Superman had kryptonite. Thurman has Tarantino.


The director does allow the adrenaline to slow a tad this time around. Where "Vol. 1" was more unadulterated, frenzied, high-voltage action, "Vol. 2" adds subtle depth and motivation, filling in many of its predecessor’s holes. The Bride is even given a name. And we’re allowed to glimpse her burgeoning maternal instincts, utterly absent in "Vol. 1." Then again, she was too busy killing folks.


There’s a smattering of philosophic wit amidst the renewed bloodletting––even the loathsome Bill reveals his soul, although secreted deeply beneath a nasty penchant for eliminating those who disappoint him. One of Tarantino’s strengths is his dialogue. There’s barely a word spoken that isn’t a puzzle piece falling into place.


While advertisements tout "Kill Bill’s" conclusion as being stand-alone—"You Don’t Have to See Vol. 1 to Enjoy Vol. 2" scream the ads in the L.A. Times—I wouldn’t recommend starting here. "Vol. 1" is already out in video and DVD, in time to whet the appetite, should you decide to take the plunge.


In a nutshell: If you like the stylistic Tarantino, the "Kill Bill" duet is his best work since "Pulp Fiction." If you’re not a Tarantino fan, you’ll likely be insulted, offended or at least confused by it all. Hey, it may not be Chekhov, but it is cinematic neo-noir at tip-top form.


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