“Kill Bill” is one-two combination for the ages

Kill Bill Vol. 2 (2004)
Miramax presents a film by Quentin Tarantino, starring Uma Thurman and David Carradine. Written by Tarantino and Thurman. Running time: 137 mins. Rated R for violence, language and brief drug use.

4.5 stars

Like most of Quentin Tarantino’s works, the “Kill Bill” volumes will be heavily debated for either reflecting the 41-year-old filmmaker’s penchant for genius or as self-aggrandizing pieces of cinematic trash, full of obscure cultural references only major geeks could appreciate.

I’ve always stood on the former side, hailing his 1994 effort, “Pulp Fiction,” as probably the most important film of the last ten years. I’ve always been drawn to Tarantino because he’s a film enthusiast at heart - a snippet of a soundtracks from spaghetti western here, a casting of a kung fu icon there. His love for the movies often translates into writing, creating and directing great movies himself.

“Kill Bill: Vol. 2” is an accomplishment much like “Pulp Fiction” - it borrows from the past while telling an engrossing original story. And “Volume 2” has decidedly changed tone from its first installment, which appeared in theaters last October. Perhaps the greatest compliment that can be paid to this piece is that is made “Volume 1” (3.5 stars) an even better movie.

“Volume 2” humanizes its protagonist, Beatrix (Uma Thurman), and makes her more than a blood-thirsty assassin hell-bent on fulfilling some violent revenge fantasy cooked up while she lay dormant. If “Volume 1” is a spare dialogue piece enamored with the spillage of crimson blood, consider “Volume 2” to be its perfect corollary: laden with dialogue and with the body count decidedly muted.

Haughty critics who have lambasted Tarantino for making “Volume 2” a twisted love story after the extreme violence of “Volume 1” are forgetting one essential point: He envisioned the piece not as two parts, but as one four-hour epic.

Beatrix (aka The Bride) - after tearing through two fellow members of the Deadly Viper Assassination Squad (DiVAS) in “Volume 1” - is out to cross off three more names from the list of people who shot her and left her for dead on her wedding day.

But my expectations were shattered when The Bride doesn’t just mow down her opposition like she did in “Volume 1.” Instead, things have become decidedly more tricky. While O-Ren Ishii and her gang of Crazy 88s were formidable opponents, I dropped such expectations for Budd (Michael Madsen), a former assassin who dropped his occupation for a fifth of Jack Daniels and a role as bouncer at a dive that doubles as a strip club.

Yet, it’s Budd (aka Sidewinder) who catches The Bride with her guard almost completely down, in a turn of events Tarantino undoubtedly cooked up with more than a fair share of geeky glee. Besides our protagonist’s confinement to a coffin being an execrable turn of events, it’s also a good opportunity for Tarantino to do what he does best. He interrupts the chronology to provide a proper backstory, involving The Bride’s training at the temple of Pai Mei (Gordon Liu).

Pai Mei is an appropriation, I’m told, from several Shaw Brothers Kung Fu films of the 1970s. And he’s a parody, I’m certain, of the now-stereotypical crazy martial arts teacher who always has one annoying idiosyncrasy (Pai Mei’s habit is his continual stroking of a long white beard only Leon Russell could appreciate).

As director, Tarantino has fun with this chapter in the “Kill Bill” book, employing the quick zooms, bleached aesthetics and staccato cutting normally associated with schmaltzy kung fu. Some critics find these self-aware techniques either distracting or pretentious. Laughing out loud, I couldn’t help but embrace my apparent love for the high cheese.

Pai Mei’s training is instrumental in the Hanzo sword showdown with Elle Driver (Daryl Hannah) and in the eventual face-to-face with the master himself, Bill (David Carradine).

For Tarantino - who has been promoting the “Kill Bill” series as a love story - the payoff comes with The Bride’s confrontation with Bill. What seems to be a dilemma is no more than a Hobson’s choice, predetermined by the series’ title. She’s there to “kill Bill.” The movie can’t end until she “kill[s] Bill.” How she does it and why she does it - aye, there’s the rub.

While some will be rankled by the idea of their butt-kicking assassin chick evolving into a matronly figure, the conclusion of “Kill Bill: Volume 2” seemed to me to be the perfect progression for the two-parter. It enticed me to re-watch “Volume 1,” where the seeds are planted not only for the ultimate climax in a revenge fantasy, but in the reemerging foundations of that indestructible mother-daughter bond.

“Kill Bill: Vol. 1” is now available on DVD everywhere.

Walking tall, falling down

Walking Tall (2004)
MGM presents a Kevin Bray film, starring The Rock and Johnny Knoxville. Written by Mort Briskin, David Klass, Channing Gibson, David Levien and Brian Koppelman. 97 minutes. Rated PG-13 for sequences of intense violence, sexual content, drug material and language.

1 star

The 1990s gave us “vehicles,” where action pictures were made around certain high-profile stars. The 2000s have given us “sequel mania,” where anything and everything that can rub two nickels together at the box office gets remade, redone, re-envisioned, regurgitated.

Equally from both of those molds is “Walking Tall,” an excuse to capitalize on The Rock’s growing power in Hollywood and a re-imagining of a 1973 film about a no-nonsense sheriff from the South.

Don’t get me wrong: I’m tantalized by the prospect of seeing the current World Wrestling Entertainment superstar in as many “blow-’em-ups” as possible. His uncanny sense of humor mixed with his impressive brawn makes him a viable action hero. I’m just not willing to see lesser movies greenlighted while studios bank on his star power.

And essentially, this is what “Walking Tall” is: A movie that has removed the brains and upped the sexual titillation instead. The film has nothing to say that an after-school special denouncing drugs wouldn’t already convey, leaving this picture’s message strongly sanitized even if its aesthetics depict the high gloss of casino gambling and pornography.

In a story that only hints of the life of Sheriff Buford Prusser, Chris Vaughn (The Rock) return to his quiet Washington hometown to find the community’s staple, the old mill, closed down. In its place, a seedy entrepreneur named Jay Hamilton Jr. (Neal McDonough) has built a half-casino, half-strip-club appropriately named “Wild Cherry.” Despite its prosperous gains and its employment keeping the town afloat, Vaughn realizes its also a modern-day den of iniquity. The employees are part-time drug dealers and the games are fixed - more so than they usually are. To top it all off, Vaughn’s high school sweetheart (Ashley Scott) is now employed by the casino as a pole dancer.

With the sheriff’s department on the payroll, it’s up to Vaughn to fight singularly to win back the town. Of course, he eventually does, with the help of surprisingly restrained Johnny Knoxville - but I’m left with literally dozens of questions. First and foremost, did he really think this through?

I’m not here to argue that any town in Pacific Northwest needs to be an epicenter for drugs. But, with the closing of the town’s sole employer, what does Sheriff Vaughn propose to revitalize the neighborhood? Will eliminating the small-time dealers really stimulate the economy in this dried-up well of a town?

The film also conveniently forgets the dozens of people who want Vaughn dead because of their association with the casino or Hamilton. They made great “dime a dozen” bad guys when offices and cars needed to be blown up. But with the eventual arrest - and apparently successful prosecution of Hamilton by the film’s end - did all of these loyalists up and move?
“Walking Tall” doesn’t have time to concern itself with such trivialities (nor with the bad business sense it seems to have a casino also act as a strip joint). The screenwriters make sure that no one associated with the “good” side dies, that Vaughn is found suitable companionship and that everyone feels like patting each other on the back and knocking back a couple of celebratory beers over lunch at the local mom-and-pop deli.

It’s boring, it’s trivial and a listless action movie to boot. “Walking Tall” is a sure dud in an already growing season of misfires.