The Tarantino touch — introduced in “Reservoir Dogs,” taken up a notch with “True Romance” — went mainstream in a major way with this outrageous, ultra-stylized remix of QT’s many eccentric obsessions, from ’70s movies to foot massages.
Votes: 671,127 | Gross: $66.21M But then those same lowlifes, in their skinny black ties, walk toward us in jerky slow motion in the L.A. sun, accompanied by the George Baker Selection’s “Little Green Bag” — a sequence that hits your eyes and ears with the force of “Be My Baby” kicking off “Mean Streets.” In a single blistering stroke, Tarantino makes a revolutionary declaration: He would be the next-generation Scorsese.
Tarantino wrote the character (whose name hails from a Spaghetti Western hero) for Will Smith, but got a grittier and more grounded performance from Oscar-winning “Ray” star Jamie Foxx, who goes tête à tête with Leonardo DiCaprio in the most scenery-chewing performance of the director’s oeuvre to date — a bar that had been raised awfully high already by the likes of Christoph Waltz and Samuel L. Jackson. Quentin Tarantino, Writer: Reservoir Dogs. PD: Tarantino front-loaded “Kill Bill: Volume 1” with nearly all the best scenes, although the second installment begins promisingly enough, as “The Bride” (Uma Thurman) continues down her “Death List Five,” resulting in surprising confrontations with Budd (Michael Madsen) and Elle Driver (Darryl Hannah), before leading to a disappointing — and needlessly talky — final showdown with Bill (David Carradine, by far the diptych’s least interesting character).
OG: Tarantino’s half of the schlock-double-bill feature “Grindhouse” is a crash-and-burn homage to the road-demon genre of “Vanishing Point” and “White Line Fever,” and it’s the most knowing plunge into the depravity of drive-in kicks he’s ever taken. PD: The movie features some of Tarantino’s best set pieces (especially the blood-chilling Nazi house raid that opens the film), but I’m slightly less enthusiastic about the whole. OG: A group of tough-nut crooks sit around a coffee shop debating the inner meaning of Madonna’s “Like a Virgin”; we’d never seen that one before. PD: It’s a pleasure to see him tackling vintage Hollywood, although the suspense doesn’t quite work for me.
The performances are uniform perfection, from Brad Pitt as the so-badass-he’s-funny redneck Nazi fighter Lt. Aldo Raine to Michael Fassbender as the film-critic-turned-undercover-soldier Archie Hicox to Diane Kruger as the righteous actress-turned-spy Bridget von Hammersmark. The film brazenly wears its director’s personality on its sleeve, inspiring countless others to dress, talk and make movies in direct imitation. By resisting gratuitous degradation — and at last revealing its heroine’s motives and backstory — the project improves upon the kind of elle-driven exploitation movies that inspired it, celebrating Thurman’s strong star persona without objectifying her (overly).
The movie has a gaudy nastiness that won’t quit, from the intricate jam session of trash-talking girls that kicks off the action to Kurt Russell’s death-rattle performance as Stuntman Mike to the insane mutilating brutality of the car crash (set to the jaunty strains of Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick & Tich’s “Hold Tight!”) that climaxes the film’s first half. OG: As a historical jamboree about the hideousness of white supremacy, Tarantinos’s slave drama is a subversive triumph, but as storytelling I think it’s a mixed bag. OG: It’s almost too meticulously crafted, revealing the seams of an Elmore Leonard plot that Tarantino had already bettered, and the soulful humanity of Pam Grier and Robert Forster’s love dance doesn’t stop that aspect of the movie from becoming a bit draggy. Certainly, the idea that films could be made by fans dates back at least to the French New Wave, when a group of die-hard critics stepped behind the camera.
PD: Tarantino’s most financially successful film extends the spirit of radical historical revisionism sparked when his “Inglourious Basterds” killed Hitler, putting a slave named Django in the thrilling position to exert bloody, explosive revenge on those who whipped, sold and oppressed him.
How could he match — much less top — what had come before? —OG. PD: These days, audiences are accustomed to the long wait between Tarantino movies, but back in 2003, a delay of six years was enough to make us worried: Had Quentin lost his mojo? He even cast himself to deliver some of that game-changing dialogue.
The Best Quentin Tarantino Movies, Ranked By Eric Shorey July 10, 2020 Of all the contemporary film auteurs, perhaps no one’s work has permeated pop culture as thoroughly as Quentin Tarantino. The way his characters talked — and more importantly, the subjects that preoccupied them — gave audiences permission to geek out about movies (and the meaning of Madonna songs), and each new project brought a fresh appreciation of some arcane corner of film culture. But it took a former video store clerk and B-movie savant to sift through genres that weren’t taken seriously in their time and reconfigure their DNA in such a way that made them hipper than ever.
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Tarantino has always been a bit too liberal with his use of the N-word, although the racial politics of this movie are endlessly fascinating, forcing America to confront its sordid history, while paving the way for “12 Years a Slave” the following year.
PD: “Inglourious Basterds” may have taken its title from a WWII impossible-mission film, but the only genuine adaptation in the director’s oeuvre is “Jackie Brown,” in which Tarantino took Elmore Leonard’s “Rum Punch” and refashioned the caper novel into a feature-length homage to Pam Grier.
Every line, every angle, every music cue feels as if it was designed to amplify the guiltless pleasure of that experience. Tarantino stretches time to new extremes, while inviting audiences to bask in the pleasure of his characters’ company.
This is the only Tarantino movie that drags. And if Tarantino, at the climax, feels free to rewrite the ending of WWII, he does it with a pugnacious audacity that takes the Hollywood concoctions “Inglourious Basterds” draws upon and trumps them at their own game.
This is the closest thing Quentin has made to a hang-out movie, and it’s a funny and captivating one, never more so than when Margot Robbie’s Sharon Tate goes to a matinee to see herself on screen.
Director: Quentin Tarantino | Stars: Uma Thurman, David Carradine, Michael Madsen, Daryl Hannah. With nine features to his name (Tarantino counts “Kill Bill Vol. “Pulp Fiction” may be crowded with pop-culture references, but feels insanely unpredictable on first viewing: the hypodermic to Mia’s heart, the gimp in Zed’s basement, the misfire that costs Marvin his face. Peter Debruge: I like this movie more than most, and am fascinated by the fact that it exists in so many versions (including a new four-episode “extended version” available from Netflix), but admit it’s the one Tarantino movie I can live without. 1 and 2” as one film, but we’ve assessed them separately) and possibly just one more to come, Tarantino has crafted an oeuvre ripe for debate.
Yet if “Death Proof” were nothing more than a revel in cheap thrills, it might not add up to much.
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The extended slow-poke stagecoach ride that gets things rolling seems to be planting the seeds for a tricky drama of one-upmanship, but once the film arrives at a giant log cabin in the middle of the wintry nowhere, it turns into a variation on “Ten Little Indians” that’s more malevolent than clever, with characters so ill-tempered that you’re only too happy to see them knocked off.
Quentin Jerome Tarantino (/ ˌ t ær ən ˈ t iː n oʊ /; born March 27, 1963) is an American film director, screenwriter, producer, and actor.
To its credit, “Volume 2” transforms the Bride from a one-dimensional Bill-killing machine.
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