Let me start by saying that I am an unabashed Quentin Tarantino fan. Pulp Fiction is one of the best movies of the ‘90s, Jackie Brown is a fine blending of Tarantino and Elmore Leonard, and his script for From Dusk Till Dawn is quite fantastic.

I won’t get into his background, since lord knows there’s been enough information readily available since 1992, and to be brutally frank, I don’t have time for that shit! The reason is that today, we’ll be discussing Death Proof, or as I like to call it, “How to convince people that Robert Rodriguez is a better filmmaker than I am.”*

[*Alternatively, you could sub in “When you get down to it, I’m really just a spastic film nerd with a big budget and a foot fetish!”]

As anyone who’s seen his movies can tell you, Tarantino is a huge fan of ‘70s exploitation films. In 2007, Tarantino and fellow ‘90s phenom Robert Rodriguez teamed up to make a tribute to that style of filmmaking, releasing a double feature along with fake trailers (one of which, Machete, ended up being extended into an actual movie that was sort of okay) and ads in between the features. They even did the “missing reel” routine that happened every now and then in those days. The collective package was called Grindhouse and it... Well, it flopped like Ishtar is what it did.

There are a few reasons for this. Releasing it during Easter weekend probably wasn’t the best move, and the fact they made a 190-minute movie designed for a small niche audience is also a factor. Also, you need to remember most of their base audience had probably never even heard of a drive-in, let alone attended one. Whatever the reason, the bottom line is that for the international release of the movie, the two films were split up and released separately.

I like Rodriguez’s entry Planet Terror, a John Carpenter-esque zombie movie with some impressive gore f/x and a healthy sense of dark humor and fun. It’s just fine in either the 80-minute version that was in the full release, as well as the longer international version.

Tarantino’s entry Death Proof is a different story.

The short version ran a moderately acceptable 90 minutes, while the international version comes in at about 113 minutes on the dot. Death Proof is ostensibly a blend of the slasher film and car chase genres, where a deranged psycho played by Kurt Russell stalks young women and kills them with his car.

In actuality, it’s about thirty minutes of cool stuff, and ninety minutes of some of the most banal, uninteresting, pop culture-centric dialogue imaginable, spewed out by two sets of the most unsympathetic protagonists I’ve ever seen. Yep, we basically get two movies in one here, and the only saving grace is that the second movie takes up less time and is slightly better.

I think the problem is that Tarantino, as much of a fan as he is of this sort of grindhouse movie, just isn’t the right guy to make this movie. Most of those Z-grade exploitation films were made by guys who, to put it bluntly, were more interested in making a fast buck than making a good movie.

Tarantino, on the other hand, is a skilled filmmaker who truly cares about his craft (and showing as many shots of women’s feet as he can, but that’s not important right now). His movies are generally put together well, and as a result, when he tries to do something tawdry like this, it simply doesn’t work because he’s just too good of a filmmaker.

This is the reason Planet Terror ends up being the better movie. Not to say Robert Rodriguez lacks talent or ambition (nothing could be farther from the truth), but to be brutally honest, the man is more interested in style than substance. Hell, the only thing keeping Rodriguez from being Michael Bay is that he’s actually talented and not a complete raging asshole. As far as I know.

With that out of the way, let the mayhem begin!

We begin with the classic drive-in feature presentation bumper that Tarantino also used for Kill Bill. Following this is a neat little animation informing us that we’re watching a serious R-rated movie, and I have to say that in all fairness, this does a fine job of setting the tone for the viewer. Planet Terror did the same thing, and also had the advantage of being, you know, actually fairly decent.

Our film proper begins with a ‘70s style Dimension Films logo, while a revving engine is heard. We then get a taste of what the film will be like, with one of the many, many, many shots of bare feet this movie will provide. Seriously, by the end of the movie, you’re gonna want to file a restraining order against Tarantino over it, it’s that annoying. If anyone ever had a doubt that he has a major foot fetish (said person would have to be shockingly unobservant), this film should smash it home with the force of a herd of elephants.

The credits play out over this image, complete with a clever title card gag (the alleged original title is Thunderbolt, which is quickly replaced by an insert card with Death Proof written on it). During this, we also meet the first of our main characters, Julia (Sydney Tamiia Poitier), who’s relaxing on her couch and taking a hit from a bong.

In addition to this, we also get shots of another car being driven, this time with a duck hood ornament. Well, it beats the crap out of another foot shot.

As the credits run down, Julia runs to the window as a car drives up, and our other two leads exit. Shanna (Jordan Ladd) is making her way over casually, but Arlene (Vanessa Ferlito) runs up, and evidently her back teeth are floating. Naturally, this being a sleazy exploitation film ostensibly, we get a shot of her holding her crotch as she runs upstairs.

In light of that, I won’t be complaining about the sleaze factor in this movie. It’s supposed to be there. Besides, a lack of good taste is not this movie’s big problem.