Kill Bill is a pretty amazing film on a whole smorgasbord of levels, and it pretty much reinstates Quentin Tarantino's position as genius auteur after the six year silence following his third film, 'Jackie Brown.' For a film derived from so many cinematic sources, it is almost startlingly original -- and it's also exciting to see Tarantino progressing yet again as a filmmaker. All of his films, although they share the same themes (honor among thieves being chief among them), are markedly different. He's been accused of imitating other filmmakers, and few directors have been as imitated as he has, but he's never once ripped himself off.

This is Tarantino's 'grindhouse epic,' a love letter to seventies martial arts films, spaghetti westerns, and ultraviolent revenge thrillers. Maybe love letter is the wrong term, though -- love child is probably more appropriate. It's not simpyl and homage, and it's definitely not a parody. There is no winking at the audience when an obviously fake airplane descends over a model city, or when the camera zooms in fast on a character's eyes to accentuate a point, accompanied by a sharp musical sting. That latter technique is an old one that has been spoofed countless times, usually in movies starring Leslie Nielsen, but Tarantino uses it with utter seriousness. We may smile with recognition when it happens, but it works on the intended level.

The tale is of a woman scorned. We first see the thus-far nameless Bride as she is shot in the head by her employer, Bill (David Carradine, who remains unseen through most of the film). Narration explains to us that she was a member of a team of killers called The Deadly Viper Assassination Squad, and that her death was the result of her attempt to leave the group. Cut to four years later, and she's out for revenge. The first person we see her cross from the list is Vernita Green, AKA Copperhead (Vivica A. Fox), who is now a suburban soccer mom. Their fight scene is pretty hardcore; the choreography is by Yuen Wo Ping of The Matrix and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon fame, but this brawl is on a more brutal and down to earth level than his usual style. It's rather jarring, especially if you've seen the trailers that homogenize the scene by digitally removing all the blood from the actors.

This scene actually takes place after the conclusion of the film (which of course has been split into two volumes, meaning that chronologically it fits in between Volume 1 and Volume 2). Tarantino hasn't just fractured the narrative to be hip; including this scene later in the film would sort of be a letdown, but placing it here lets us know what we're in for -- which is a revenge film that is much fun as it is dark. For a film with so much potential for cheesiness, Kill Bill is pretty frequently deadly serious. When The Bride faces a room full of dispatched opponents and tells them to run for their lives but to "leave whatever limbs you've lost; they belong to me now," the effect is rather awe-inspiring.

Thurman created her character with Tarantino back in the heyday of Pulp Fiction glory, and in that regard is really the only person who could have filled the role. We get a taste here and there of her acting skill, but the role (in this episode at least) is primarily a physical one, and Thurman's lithe figure adapts extremely well to the athleticism required. A stunt double was of course used for a few scenes, which reminds me that I should remind you to watch for a scene in which kung fu legend Sonny Chiba pitches a baseball at the Bride and she slices it in half with her sword. As reported by Harry Knowles of Aint-It-Cool-News while visiting the set last year, Uma's sword double actually cut that baseball in half, take after take. It's a shame that everyone will assume it's a digital effect (which, aside from erasing a few wires, are entirely absent from the film).

The movie is in a constant flux of visual styles and elements, all of which was detailed in Tarantino's script. I came to the movie having read an early draft of that screenplay about a year earlier (could you have resisted if it was placed before you?). Every little detail was there, every homage was referenced, and I wondered at the time if Tarantino what he'd put on the page. His forte has always been in words, and this was a movie made up largely of action. Furthermore, as it was described in the script, it was action on a level and in quantities I'd never quite seen before, and I wasn't sure if he could pull it off. Before I run myself into a rut of hyperbole, I'll simply say that I had no reason to doubt; this movie is exhilarating (likewise, I won't lose myself in praising cinematographer Robert Richardson, editor Sally Menke, or the amazing soundtrack).

But it's not just because of intensity of the action, or the insane twenty minute showdown at the climax, or the fact that I've never seen a movie as gory as this one and can't figure out how it managed to get an R-rating, that makes it so exhilarating. It's also because Tarantino's love for all sorts of movies is practically (and sometimes literally) bleeding from every frame. Old fashioned action movies, yes, but also animation and comedy and Star Trek. And serious drama; the film, remarkably, has a heart to it -- I think. Right now, it doesn't quite have the transcendent elements that elevated Pulp Fiction into the realm of instant masterpiece. Thurman's quest for revenge is motivated by maternal issues, and every now and then she ceases to become a samurai sword-wielding goddess of vengeance and becomes a very hurt and human woman, but whether this is elaborated upon in Volume 2 remains to be seen -- although if the script is any indication, I think it will be.
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Did reading the script skew my perspective on the film? Perhaps, only in that I knew what was going to happen and was able to intuit certain things that one might not pick up on until the second half. On that note, should the film have been split into two parts? The cliffhanger ending is perfectly executed, but as far as I was concerned, I wish Volume 2 had followed it with nothing more than a five minute intermission in between.

How Tarantino managed to make this movie work, how he balanced all of these references and themes and styles and subplots (and, yes, indulgences) and made such a finely tuned work of art is almost beyond me -- but not quite. This is the work of a man who, simply, understands movies. He's admitted that he can't read well, that he never made it past ninth grade; he's not the greatest actor, and too much time in the limelight doesn't suit him. But he understands cinema in a way that goes beyond love. I love movies to death, but do I understand them enough to pull of something like this? I hope so, but I don't know. Tarantino does; he knows what he wants to do with the medium, knows how to do it, and he does it. So far, it's worked every time.