Death Proof - Review

Death Proof is the Quentin Tarantino segment of The Grindhouse, and it is a waste of time and talent.

I have never looked forward to a film when I hear words like, "This is a real Spielberg film," or "De Palma film," or "Tarantino film." Statements like that let me know that the film is not the story; instead, it's the director.

Death Proof is a good example. It is chock full of Tarantino quirkiness, and there are plenty of links to his past projects. But this time, none of the gags are funny, and the dialogue is flat and boring.

Tarantino has been breaking the rules for a long time. Usually he gets away with it, with spectacular results. I loved both volumes of Kill Bill, and I thought Pulp Fiction was damn fun. Both of those entries broke the rules of screen dialogue.

Rule number one states that no dialogue should be written in a scene unless it is absolutely necessary. Further, dialogue should not be "on the nose." That is, if the character wants a chicken sandwich, the last thing he should say is, "I want a chicken sandwich."

Tarantino
Story is supposed to be subtle, and dialogue should not cram ideas down the audience's throat. Tarantino has always shunned this convention. He lets his characters wander through a forest of dialogue before they ever get to the point, if they ever do. Tarantino's characters are simply sounding boards for his own thoughts. When Travolta is talking about eating at a McDonald's in France, we know these are Tarantino's memories of the country, not Vincent Vega's. All of his characters sound the same because they are the same: they're Quentin Tarantino.

And that's okay, as long as it works. Tarantino has become a Name, and his fanclub buys movie tickets in order to see that Name. They don't care who the stars are, and in fact, they're happy if no contemporary stars appear on the screen (contemporary by Hollywood standards means within five years or so). Since Pulp Fiction, Tarantino's fan club has pumped up the myth that he resurrects "old" actors and gives them new careers.

Unfortunately, it isn't completely true. I'm not a big Sean Penn fan these days, but Penn is correct when he says what hogwash it is that directors draw great performances from actors. Directors don't draw the performance. The actor gives it to them.

So yes, Tarantino gave Travolta a chance to make a comeback in Pulp Fiction, just as he gave Pam Greer a comeback bid in Jackie Brown. But that's all he gave them: a chance. And lucky him, they were good enough actors to make hay out of it, rather than a flop.

I will tell you why John Travolta was in Pulp Fiction: he's all Tarantino could get. Because that's the way it works with new directors who have a lot of talent, but not much money and even less confidence from a studio. Directors such as these go looking for a Name, and they hope it will put their project over the top.

It seems like Pulp Fiction was released just yesterday, but think back for a moment about that cast from thirteen (yes, thirteen) years ago: Samuel L. Jackson was a virtual nobody, and John Travolta was a has-been. Uma Thurman was second fiddle in everything, no one had heard of Ving Rhames, and Tim Roth was kinda-sorta well known (from Reservoir Dogs, another Tarantino film). The hottest actor in Pulp Fiction was Bruce Willis, and he was known as the guy from Moonlighting who was pretty good in Die Hard. And that was your cast.

So what made them great? Tarantino, but not because he drew anything out of them; he gave them an incredibly good script which they sank their teeth into, and he had a damn good crew to develop it. The writing was superb and the film was like nothing anyone had seen in years.

So what happened to Death Proof?

Uma Thurman in Kill Bill Vol. 2
First, the writing: it's tired. Kill Bill was so well written that we know Tarantino's still got the goods, but with this difference: Kill Bill is not about Quentin Tarantino, while Death Proof is nothing but. It has ten-minute lunch room conversations, but only a passable cast saying the lines. Reservoir Dogs it isn't. Tarantino is horrible at writing teenage girl dialogue. He should stick to bank robbers and assassins. Teenage girls talking about boyfriends for an entire scene is the stuff naps are made of, especially since none of these boyfriends are ever going to appear in the movie. In other words, who cares?

The Quentin Tarantino symbolism stuff has also got to go. I could feel him elbowing me in the ribs throughout the film: get it, get it? I said Big Kahuna Burger, like in Pulp Fiction! Get it, get it? I'm using 70's music and old film stock, but I'm also using cell phones. Pretty cool, huh?

I was amazed that Kurt Russell agreed to be in the film. Maybe he fell prey to the Tarantino mystique, that this movie would be a cult classic, not to mention getting Kurt rich. In any event, he's utterly wasted. In his first few scenes, you think he might save the film, until you realize that Tarantino is going to stab him in the back. Russell's serial killer character turns out to be a wimp, and the film ends so suddenly, and so unsatisfactorily, that you have to think Russell didn't see this coming. The film feels about ten scenes light, scenes where Russell might have made a difference, seeing as he is the only truly professional actor in the movie.

Tarantino may have been reading his own headlines this time around. Time for him to write some new ones.