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#690 - Death Proof
Quentin Tarantino, 2007
A murderous stuntman who owns a "death-proof" car targets various groups of young women for his own nefarious purposes.
There's an old review on this website where I gave the complete version of Grindhouse five popcorn boxes out of five for being such an enjoyable cinematic experience (and this was after having watched Planet Terror and Death Proof on DVD anyway). As time wore on, I was naturally inclined to agree with the prevailing consensus that, yes, Death Proof was probably Tarantino's all-around weakest film. Me being the magnanimous soul that I am, I opted to re-watch it recently to see if the passage of time had done anything to mellow my feelings about it. Given how Grindhouse was supposed to be a homage to the low-grade exploitation films that Tarantino and fellow cult filmmaker Robert Rodriguez had grown up admiring, it makes sense how the plot of Death Proof is supposed to reflect the visceral simplicity of your typical exploitation film. The main character is arguably the scarred yet affable "Stuntman Mike" (Kurt Russell), who is first seen hanging around a bar where a handful of attractive young women (Sydney Poitier, Vanessa Ferlito, and Jordan Ladd) just happen to be congregating. Though he does come across as a fairly harmless yet charming older man coasting on the glories of his show-business career (well, he is played by Kurt Russell after all), Stuntman Mike soon unveils a darker side as he demonstrates that his "death-proof" muscle-car is capable of protecting him through any car crash - especially those that he causes himself against unsuspecting victims.
Death Proof definitely proves to be a film of two halves as it tracks Stuntman Mike targeting two very different groups of women. The first half plays up his off-kilter charm even before he reveals his true motivations, while the second half treats him as a barely-glimpsed villain who exists only to terrorise. Both halves prove fairly agreeable in their own way, though not without their faults. Much of Death Proof's first half feels way too much like a prelude as it sets up an admittedly uninteresting interpersonal conflict between its heroines over the fact that Poitier's radio DJ has set up Ferlito as a potential romantic target for male listeners before Russell even shows up. While Russell definitely commands the screen whenever he's in a scene, a lot of the time he isn't and so we're given over to the underwhelming conflicts that these ladies get into, whether it's being approached by annoying guys or being stood up by the guys they do like. The second half promises to be a bit more interesting as it focuses on a more capable group of women, though their conversation proves to be even more underwhelming even before it turns to more plot-relevant details such as Zoe Bell (playing herself) wishing to get her hands on the white Dodge Challenger from cult road movie Vanishing Point.
The problem with films like Death Proof is that their dedication to replicating the same cheap thrills provided by exploitation films of a generation past often leaves them prone to the same flaws that could also prevent them being enjoyable even on their own terms. The alternative is to gamble on whether or not an attempt at parody will be understood and appreciated by your audience. In any case, if Tarantino has succeeded at replicating grindhouse cinema then he's definitely replicated the same kind of flaws that make them difficult to sincerely appreciate. This extends to the fact that the second group of women effectively sell out one of their number (in this case Mary Elizabeth Winstead's wholesome cheerleader-looking character) to a creepy hillbilly under incredibly false pretences just so that they have the chance to drive the coveted Dodge Challenger. As a result, it makes it very hard to sympathise with them when they are inevitably attacked by Stuntman Mike. Such flaws only become exacerbated when Tarantino becomes less interested in directly imitating grindhouse films and lets his own narrative idiosyncrasies bleed through, most notably by having many dialogue-heavy scenes - the biggest example becomes an interminable sequence where the latest quartet of future victims has a casual conversation around a café table. The fact that it's done in a single revolving take not only fails to liven things up but it shatters any sense of a grindhouse atmosphere (as does the eventual phasing out of simulated film flaws like damaged prints and missing reels).
It's a shame, then, because there are quite a few elements to Death Proof that promise a genuinely fun experience even on repeated viewings. The instant-replay nature of the film's first big crash, which takes the time to focus on every single death in detail, is an impressive scene on a visual level. The same quality extends to the film's climatic chase sequence, which boasts some solid stunt-work on Bell's part as she is effectively trapped on the bonnet of a speeding car for several minutes of screen-time. Also, there's the quality of Russell's own performance as he covers a variety of modes from craggy charmer to affable villain to miserable punching-bag. Unfortunately, there's too much going against Death Proof for it to be a genuinely enjoyable film. Even in its truncated Grindhouse form (which I'm reviewing instead of the full-length DVD version that adds in the supposed "reel missing" scene - long story short, this was what got aired on TV by itself) it's still something of a chore whenever it opts to spend time on its ostensible victims. There's enough right with it to stop it being genuinely terrible, but there's sadly more than enough wrong with it to stop it being genuinely great.
Quentin Tarantino, 2007
A murderous stuntman who owns a "death-proof" car targets various groups of young women for his own nefarious purposes.
There's an old review on this website where I gave the complete version of Grindhouse five popcorn boxes out of five for being such an enjoyable cinematic experience (and this was after having watched Planet Terror and Death Proof on DVD anyway). As time wore on, I was naturally inclined to agree with the prevailing consensus that, yes, Death Proof was probably Tarantino's all-around weakest film. Me being the magnanimous soul that I am, I opted to re-watch it recently to see if the passage of time had done anything to mellow my feelings about it. Given how Grindhouse was supposed to be a homage to the low-grade exploitation films that Tarantino and fellow cult filmmaker Robert Rodriguez had grown up admiring, it makes sense how the plot of Death Proof is supposed to reflect the visceral simplicity of your typical exploitation film. The main character is arguably the scarred yet affable "Stuntman Mike" (Kurt Russell), who is first seen hanging around a bar where a handful of attractive young women (Sydney Poitier, Vanessa Ferlito, and Jordan Ladd) just happen to be congregating. Though he does come across as a fairly harmless yet charming older man coasting on the glories of his show-business career (well, he is played by Kurt Russell after all), Stuntman Mike soon unveils a darker side as he demonstrates that his "death-proof" muscle-car is capable of protecting him through any car crash - especially those that he causes himself against unsuspecting victims.
Death Proof definitely proves to be a film of two halves as it tracks Stuntman Mike targeting two very different groups of women. The first half plays up his off-kilter charm even before he reveals his true motivations, while the second half treats him as a barely-glimpsed villain who exists only to terrorise. Both halves prove fairly agreeable in their own way, though not without their faults. Much of Death Proof's first half feels way too much like a prelude as it sets up an admittedly uninteresting interpersonal conflict between its heroines over the fact that Poitier's radio DJ has set up Ferlito as a potential romantic target for male listeners before Russell even shows up. While Russell definitely commands the screen whenever he's in a scene, a lot of the time he isn't and so we're given over to the underwhelming conflicts that these ladies get into, whether it's being approached by annoying guys or being stood up by the guys they do like. The second half promises to be a bit more interesting as it focuses on a more capable group of women, though their conversation proves to be even more underwhelming even before it turns to more plot-relevant details such as Zoe Bell (playing herself) wishing to get her hands on the white Dodge Challenger from cult road movie Vanishing Point.
The problem with films like Death Proof is that their dedication to replicating the same cheap thrills provided by exploitation films of a generation past often leaves them prone to the same flaws that could also prevent them being enjoyable even on their own terms. The alternative is to gamble on whether or not an attempt at parody will be understood and appreciated by your audience. In any case, if Tarantino has succeeded at replicating grindhouse cinema then he's definitely replicated the same kind of flaws that make them difficult to sincerely appreciate. This extends to the fact that the second group of women effectively sell out one of their number (in this case Mary Elizabeth Winstead's wholesome cheerleader-looking character) to a creepy hillbilly under incredibly false pretences just so that they have the chance to drive the coveted Dodge Challenger. As a result, it makes it very hard to sympathise with them when they are inevitably attacked by Stuntman Mike. Such flaws only become exacerbated when Tarantino becomes less interested in directly imitating grindhouse films and lets his own narrative idiosyncrasies bleed through, most notably by having many dialogue-heavy scenes - the biggest example becomes an interminable sequence where the latest quartet of future victims has a casual conversation around a café table. The fact that it's done in a single revolving take not only fails to liven things up but it shatters any sense of a grindhouse atmosphere (as does the eventual phasing out of simulated film flaws like damaged prints and missing reels).
It's a shame, then, because there are quite a few elements to Death Proof that promise a genuinely fun experience even on repeated viewings. The instant-replay nature of the film's first big crash, which takes the time to focus on every single death in detail, is an impressive scene on a visual level. The same quality extends to the film's climatic chase sequence, which boasts some solid stunt-work on Bell's part as she is effectively trapped on the bonnet of a speeding car for several minutes of screen-time. Also, there's the quality of Russell's own performance as he covers a variety of modes from craggy charmer to affable villain to miserable punching-bag. Unfortunately, there's too much going against Death Proof for it to be a genuinely enjoyable film. Even in its truncated Grindhouse form (which I'm reviewing instead of the full-length DVD version that adds in the supposed "reel missing" scene - long story short, this was what got aired on TV by itself) it's still something of a chore whenever it opts to spend time on its ostensible victims. There's enough right with it to stop it being genuinely terrible, but there's sadly more than enough wrong with it to stop it being genuinely great.