Kill Bill
written and directed by Quentin Tarantino
based on the character created by Q and U

            If Kill Bill, Vol. 1 is a sushi roll then Vol. 2 is a burrito. Full of Japanese pop, the first film is slice and dice, neatly wrapped and expands inside of you when you’re done. Now the second has arrived, certainly intended from the beginning as a separate piece, and though it folds up nicely and tastes delicious, the inside is a bit of a mess in comparison. People tend to prefer one or the other. Lately I eat a lot more Japanese food than Chinese and Mexican because my bowels like it that way, and analogously I enjoyed the first picture far more than the second.
           The mesh of homage and stereotype culminating in Volume 1 is a lot of fun, tying in Samurai, Yakuza, schoolgirl fetish, Godzilla, anime and other parts of the nation’s mythology and culture. The movie looks crisp and clean, the characters from The Bride’s past are presented as being well to do, Vernita Green with her happy suburban family and O-Ren Ishii as a crime boss. The violence is absurd and the sets are colorful.
          Volume 2 on the other hand is full of dirt and sleaze. Strip clubs, prostitutes, toilets, tobacco spit, shallow graves and gunplay come in to play as does deceitful, unfair fighting. Michael Madsen’s Bud is pathetic trailer trash and Daryl Hannah’s Elle is heartless and bitter. Most importantly, though, the blood is darker, more realistic. There is much back story and foreshadowing which allows for a slow start and a predictable end but when the movie gets good it gets very good, particularly during the homage to Shao Lin kung-fu movies featuring Gordon Liu.
            Eventually The Bride makes her way to the title character but he has a secret for her that brings the movie into cuter territory and while we can dread any “cool” director suddenly working with children, Tarantino doesn’t make it his own Jersey Girl, and as far as comparing him with Kevin Smith goes, Bill is given a monologue about Superman that is better than any of that filmmaker’s comic book references.
            I liken Volume 2 to a scene between Uma Thurman and Liu where The Bride, exhausted and beaten makes a mess of her bowl of rice, is unable to use her chopsticks and attempts to eat with her hands. When Liu knocks the bowl off the table I wished that he could do the same thing with this coarser pulp. I can appreciate the two volumes as being different yet complimentary, but I’d rather stick with the more refined variety.