A dizzying collage of styles, textures and visual references

Rating: Null/10 (12 March 2008)

Whereas Reservoir Dogs (1991) and Pulp Fiction (1994) took elements from the French New Wave and American independent cinema of the 1970's to create bold, iconic, character driven films rife with clever dialog, uncompromising violence and subtle allusions to a myriad of varied, textured film references, Kill Bill: Volumes 1 & 2 (2003-2004) take the idea of referencing even further, giving us blatant and literal references that cross from one genre to the next with a complete disregard for whether or not the audience is familiar with the kind of work being quoted. This technique is pushed even further in the subsequent Death Proof (2007), which really does require an audience to be familiar with its subject in order to get the most out of the style, set-up and intent. Here, all pretensions to the cinema of the French New Wave are dropped, as well as the more adult-orientated flavour of the previous Jackie Brown (1997), which was perhaps more in keeping with the aging spirit of the blacksploitation sub-genre of films from which it drew a superficial influence.
Instead, Kill Bill (2003) finds director Quentin Tarantino shifting his focus to Asian cinema and referencing sources as disparate as Kung-Fu (1972), Lone Wolf and Cub (1972), Lady Snowblood (1973), The Street Fighter (1974), Shogun Assassin (1980) and Ichi the Killer (2001), as well as taking direct influence from the Shaw Brothers studio productions of the 1960's and filmmakers like Kinji Fukasaku and Seijun Suzuki. Alongside these visual and thematic reference points we also have a continual reliance on juxtaposing ideas and iconography taken from spaghetti westerns, blacksploitation pictures, Chinese "wuxia" and kung fu movies, Japanese Manga and Anime, hip-hop, American exploitation and revenge cinema, and François Truffaut's The Bride Wore Black (1968). These influences are all combined, sometimes obviously and sometimes with more subtlety, but all used with flair, imagination and intelligence to create the right kind of cinematic environment for this purposely elaborate, over-the-top, comic-book-style tale of roaring rampage and revenge to play out against.
The opening shot is fantastic; rife with cinematic allusions to Sergio Leone's A Fistful of Dollars (1964) and Seijun Suzuki's Tokyo Drifter (1965), with the use of black and white cinematography and the image of the iconic "Bride" laid out on her back, bloody and bruised, pleading for her life with an off-screen Bill who is about to put a bullet in her head. From here we cut to the title and the near-iconic use of Nancy Sinatra's version of the Sony Bono track 'Bang, Bang', which is every bit as bold, amusing, cool and ironic as the use of opening music in other Tarantino works. From here we cut back and forth in a non-linear progression to track the return and subsequent revenge of "The Bride" against the gang of devious former comrades who betrayed her.
As the film is split into two halves (for commercial reasons, as opposed to artistic; but regardless, tying in with the literary use of voice-over, chapter-heading, an unreliable narrator, etc) there will always be the question of how to critique it. Do we view them as two separate films that should each deliver on the characteristics that we think cinema should pertain to, or do we view this as one long film; a continuation of a single character and theme over the course of two very different though ultimately linked feature films? If we take the former approach, then Volume 1 (2003) is the easiest film to appreciate on an immediate level, concerning itself more with scenes of balletic, visually rich and heavily choreographed action; relegating much of Tarantino's usual interplay of character and dialog to the background and allowing the visuals to completely envelope us. In this sense Tarantino is drawing on the B-cinema pop-art explosion of Suzuki, most notable in the sequence where "The Bride" takes on the Crazy-88's amidst a barrage ostentatious camera movements, lighting changes, black and white inter-cutting and bouncing Go-Go music from the 5, 6, 7, 8's.
There are also elements of over the top martial arts choreography juxtaposed against scenes of more brutal, harder-hitting violence, obvious miniature work that almost points to the original Godzilla films, retro use of rear-screen projection, allusions to films as disparate as Twisted Nerve (1968), Hitchcock, Brian De Palma's elaborate use of split-screen, the production design from Gate of Flesh (1964) and Sex and Fury (1974), the casting of Chiaki Kuriyama (perhaps familiar to most audience from her appearances in Fukasaku's Battle Royale) and Bruce Lee's Game of Death (1978). Though these elements are impressive, particularly when coupled with the scenes of over-the-top violence (which nods to the exaggerated bloodshed of Anime and of films like the aforementioned Shogun Assassin and Ichi the Killer) and the technical virtuosity of Tarantino and cinematographer Robert Richardson, the effect can seem hollow; especially when we cross-reference this to the much more reserved, dialog-driven Volume 2 (2004).
With this in mind, it would seem more appropriate to view the films as one single film; taking into account both the bursts of colour and energy presented in Volume 1 and the slower, more character-driven approach of Volume 2 to really get the most out of the incredible journey that this larger than life character undertakes. It also allows us to better appreciate the extraordinary performance from Uma Thurman in the central role, who here gives one of the best performances of her career; instilling "The Bride" with a sense of honour and purpose that makes her violence and bloodshed all the more understandable. Kill Bill: Volume 1 doesn't quite scale the dizzying heights of Tarantino's first three films; lacking the intuitive style, unique dialog and intricate plotting - but it does represent a new phase of his career; one that pushes cinematic reference even further to create a visual tapestry of self-aware cinema that appeals to learned cineastes preoccupied with technique, as well as offering a bold story, memorable characters and a great sense of entertainment.