Stellar Legs
07-30-04, 03:16 AM
I've been asked to review Reservoir Dogs by many people. Here goes:
In 1992, writer/director Quentin Tarantino's small Indie film found it's way to the center of the heap at Cannes Film Festival. Tarantino didn't take home the prize. In My Soup did instead. In My Soup? Yes. One of countless films that also ran. Nothing against those directors, people who work hard, love what they do, and have a blast doing what they do. But every film nominated that year suffered from their criminal blandness.
Even though Tarantino offered movie goers an outing that was vividly captivating, thrillingly alive, bloody as a sliced artery, and funny as all Hell. 'Tis why we go to movies. To engage in some kind of full body contact. To see a movie that involves it's audience, a movie that slaps a 'Dogs style suit on all of us and hands us a gun with some of them pimped out shades that make people cooler for just knowing you.
Dogs may be simple at heart, but there's nothing simple in the way Tarantino tells his stories. He can't do it. We open to are heroes sitting in a diner, chatting like chums. Tarantino (in a somewhat forced, but comfortably memorable role) is on the rag about Madonna and her sex-capades, while another one (the incredibley awesometastic Steve Buscemi rants about the negativity of tipping. They could be buddies chatting before work. Except work is a jewel heist, and it goes wrong.
Tarantino generates a tension between his audience, for not seeing the actual heist itself. And now, our boys in black have a rat on their hands. But who? No fun in spoiling. In the space of 100 minutes, Tarantino crams countless heaps of Pop culture, thrilling shoot-outs, memorably bad-ass characters (has there ever been a better gangster then Michael Madsen?), and the slightest sound of a heartbeat.
Scarface was the Cuban crime epic. Goodfellas was the Italian one. Reservoir Dogs is the crime drama for red-blooded Americans who were raised in seedy, sticky movie theatres. But Reservoir Dogs succeeds in it's way of avoidong label. Scarface, Goodfellas, and The Godfather did their crime stories by the book, and had huge hits. Reservoir Dogs threw that book out, and still had a hit. Their would be bigger hits for Quentin. But he ould never be as untamed as he was here.
Stellar gives Reservoir Dogs 4 (out of 4) stars
In 1992, writer/director Quentin Tarantino's small Indie film found it's way to the center of the heap at Cannes Film Festival. Tarantino didn't take home the prize. In My Soup did instead. In My Soup? Yes. One of countless films that also ran. Nothing against those directors, people who work hard, love what they do, and have a blast doing what they do. But every film nominated that year suffered from their criminal blandness.
Even though Tarantino offered movie goers an outing that was vividly captivating, thrillingly alive, bloody as a sliced artery, and funny as all Hell. 'Tis why we go to movies. To engage in some kind of full body contact. To see a movie that involves it's audience, a movie that slaps a 'Dogs style suit on all of us and hands us a gun with some of them pimped out shades that make people cooler for just knowing you.
Dogs may be simple at heart, but there's nothing simple in the way Tarantino tells his stories. He can't do it. We open to are heroes sitting in a diner, chatting like chums. Tarantino (in a somewhat forced, but comfortably memorable role) is on the rag about Madonna and her sex-capades, while another one (the incredibley awesometastic Steve Buscemi rants about the negativity of tipping. They could be buddies chatting before work. Except work is a jewel heist, and it goes wrong.
Tarantino generates a tension between his audience, for not seeing the actual heist itself. And now, our boys in black have a rat on their hands. But who? No fun in spoiling. In the space of 100 minutes, Tarantino crams countless heaps of Pop culture, thrilling shoot-outs, memorably bad-ass characters (has there ever been a better gangster then Michael Madsen?), and the slightest sound of a heartbeat.
Scarface was the Cuban crime epic. Goodfellas was the Italian one. Reservoir Dogs is the crime drama for red-blooded Americans who were raised in seedy, sticky movie theatres. But Reservoir Dogs succeeds in it's way of avoidong label. Scarface, Goodfellas, and The Godfather did their crime stories by the book, and had huge hits. Reservoir Dogs threw that book out, and still had a hit. Their would be bigger hits for Quentin. But he ould never be as untamed as he was here.
Stellar gives Reservoir Dogs 4 (out of 4) stars