Sean Beaudoin

Enough excellent writing to fill a large tube sock

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Movie Review

Grindhouse:Death Proof by Quentin Tarantino — 4.0

Has anyone in the history of film wasted more goodwill and credit to do whatever and however they wanted in Hollywood than the big Q? After Pulp Fiction, he was arguably the most important director of the '90's with almost limitless potential. His willingness to fuse crime cliche's, Hong King cinema, Blacksploitation, seventies pop hits, insider jokes, and the resurrection of sidelined actors was both ludicrously entertaining and refreshingly un-PC. But, then came Destiny On The Radio. And Four Rooms. And From Dusk Til Dawn. And a whole lot of other half-baked shit. Tarantino's willingness to endlessly indulge his more puerile instincts with paler trickery than that of his first three films forced critics to consider the possibility that his riffs on miscigenation, mysogeny, pop culture, and consumerism weren't sly commentary, but fawning regurgitation. Death Proof is long, witless, boring, self-indulgent, pointless, and somehow a complete rehash of all his other, better movies.
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“They stopped at the next rise and watched as the horde of Infects emerged from the cave mouth, like dirty sausage shoved through a dirtier grinder.”

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