Crank It Up, Sacha!

I think Sacha Baron Cohen is one of the funniest and most talented people who ever lived. He's an unparalleled comedic genius. If I was asked to pick my five favorite comedians of all time, he would be on the short list with Buster Keaton, Charlie Chaplin, and Harold Lloyd. He's THAT good. Keaton, Chaplin, and Lloyd would simply adore him. Somewhere, I'm sure they're watching and laughing.

Of course, when I speak of Sacha Baron Cohen's talent, I'm talking about his work on Da Ali G Show and how he's expanded upon the indelible personas that he created on it. If you're not familiar with the show, you should be. Why aren't you?? Go watch! Now! The show surrounds Cohen's three alter egos: vulgar, sex-obsessed, ignorant British thug with a Jamaican flavor Ali G, Kazakhstanian anti-Semitic, misogynistic, homo-curious (or is it just his culture?) journalist Borat, and flaming gay Austrian fashionista Brüno. When I first watched the show, I couldn't believe that they were all played by the same person. He's a total chameleon. Each character has his merits, so it's impossible to choose the best. No matter who it is, though, the targets are always Americans. No one has ever exposed American ignorance like Sacha Baron Cohen.

Ali G manages to talk to politicians and professionals and all sorts of famous intellectuals by pretending he's reaching out to a younger audience with the issues. His "show" is like MTV on crack. Borat makes men uncomfortable with his eastern European kissing and groping and says the most offensive things possible about sex or just whatever. I believe Brüno has the most comic possibilities. He's the biggest threat to conservative Christian-Americans (aka the South). He hits on every guy he sees and spends a lot of time talking to people in the fashion industry and exposing their shallow, idiotic pretensions. Cohen is always 100% committed to the role. Until they see it on TV, these people have no idea it's a ruse. They think they're doing it for some cable show in [insert country here]. It's all improvised, and I've only seen him almost sort of crack a couple times, but it's barely noticeable. Otherwise, he's a man of steel. He's following very closely in the tradition of the Great Stone Face, Buster Keaton.

Borat has become a household name since the movie came out. I love the movie and all the attention it received, but honestly, the show is better. The complete series of Da Ali G Show is only two short seasons. Unfortunately, once you're exposed, it's hard to play anymore. It can only last so long. The series is perhaps the most hilarious achievement I've ever witnessed, which is really high praise. I laugh to the point of tears during every skit. It doesn't ever get old, and it never ceases to amaze me that it's REAL. It's astounding. Anyway, I just wanted to say that I was a fan of Sacha Baron Cohen before he was popular. I was a fan of the show pre-Borat. I'm not merely jumping on the bandwagon, even though it's a worthy bandwagon to jump on. I just want to go on record that I liked him and the show before it was the cool thing to do. So...there.

I'm especially staking my claim to Brüno and Cohen now because I know how big they're both going to get (yes, both - the character AND the man; for being the same person, they really are like separate entities, which is a testament to his brilliance) with the upcoming Brüno movie, which I'm insanely excited about. I don't know what could be better than letting flamboyantly gay Brüno loose upon the South. I hear he even pays a visit to the church of Fred Phelps. That's a showdown I can't wait to see. I hope he actually gets to talk to Satan, I mean Phelps, himself. It's going to be magic. If anyone can put Phelps in his place, it's Cohen. This movie will be brutally scathing and epically hilarious.

If you've never seen Brüno in action, I'm including three of his best segments from the show. All of his bits are phenomenal, but these just might be the cream of the crop. If you've already seen them, I'm sure you won't mind watching them again.







Okay, I'll come clean. I had an ulterior motive all along. I was mainly inspired to write this post because I received a heads-up on the full title of the Brüno movie. Naturally, I wanted to sing Sacha Baron Cohen's praises, but the title was my primary motivation. It's better than I could have ever dreamed. I just hope I've built it up sufficiently, because it deserves it. Are you ready for this?

Here it is:

Brüno: Delicious Journeys Through America for the Purpose of Making Heterosexual Males Visibly Uncomfortable in the Presence of a Gay Foreigner in a Mesh T-Shirt

That. Is. AWESOME. I think that really says it all.

Anthony and Juliette

It's been almost a month since Anthony Minghella died, and even though I haven't written about him yet, I've been thinking about this amazing man quite a bit. I obviously can't write an elaborate tribute every time someone famous dies; I only do it for the people in the film industry who have touched my life the most profoundly, like Adrienne Shelly and Heath Ledger. Actually, I have two other tributes, much more minor in scale comparatively, dedicated to TV personalities Brett Somers and Charles Nelson Reilly on here. They were special enough to be included on my otherwise all-film blog.

So, in the realm of film, Anthony Minghella is worthy of the type of massive personal eulogy I devoted to Heath Ledger and Adrienne Shelly. His death is a tremendous loss (the more I'm learning about him, the more I see that), and he simply means that much to me. I really want to express my feelings about his death and, more importantly, his life. For his tribute, I decided that I would watch five of his films and write mini-reviews of all of them so that I could commemorate and contextualize his career, emphasize his significance to cinema, and discuss how Minghella and his films have affected me. I have two films left to watch, so it'll still be awhile until I write it. With this post, I just wanted to say that I haven't been neglecting him. I've got big plans for the lovely Mr. Minghella.

In the meantime, I want to share a poem written by the lovely Juliette Binoche for Anthony Minghella after his death. It's beautiful, and I love her for writing it. I'll leave you with her words now:

To Anthony

I shall learn to live without you.

With all we’ve done and undone

with all the missing parts I’ll have to carry on hoping

you were the bedrock of fun, the laugh that made me laugh

and your hand came with love and care

I could see your thoughts going faster and faster

ahead in their curved complex understanding

your excitements became my excitement in the joy of sharing

my friend of art

you’ve gone missing

we shared a heart beating in this inner world of creation

and your ideas became real to me

I was your angel and you opened my wings

and you were the words I could fly into

my friend of heart

I will carry the unsaid

I will cherish my forgiveness until I see you

and please forgive me for my painful silence

magnetic eyes of yours with its sparkling needles

we dared a gift to the unknown

the search for truth in the battle of being

we attempted a glimpse on the other side

with joy with joy

JB

Clooney Drops the Screwball

Is it wrong that I'm happy about the failure of George Clooney's latest directorial effort, Leatherheads? Because I am. If that's wrong, then I don't want to be right. Take that, George Clooney! Ahem. I know I already used that picture of Clooney in another post, but it's just too priceless to pass up. He looks like such a bloody fool. And he is SO trying to be Cary Grant in it. Ugh. Blasphemous. Anyway, not even my love for John Krasinski can make me feel any pity or sympathy for the movie or Clooney. Leatherheads only made $12.7 million at the box office, coming in THIRD after 21 and Nim's Island. It made less money than Nim's Island! And it got slammed by critics. Like, REALLY slammed. Mmm...sweet.

At least for the time being, smug George Clooney has been put in his place. I love it. Your cocky charm didn't cut it this time, bucko! Bucko? I don't think I've ever said that in my life. I must mean business. I feel sort of evil for being so happy about this, but I just really don't like Clooney. He irks me. Leatherheads looks stupid and smug, so I take a lot of pleasure in the fact that smug Mr. Clooney's smug, self-congratulatory project failed.

That's what happens when you take on screwball when you have no business doing it. The only semi-recent 100% successful screwball venture was served up Coen-style in 1994 with The Hudsucker Proxy. I think Judd Apatow incorporates some screwball elements into his films, and there are definitely screwball characteristics still floating around, but Joel and Ethan Coen proved that they were the only people capable of making a full-fledged, totally devoted, all-encompassing screwball comedy in decades. I realize that might be a controversial opinion, but so be it. I know film history, and I know screwball. The Hudsucker Proxy is a brilliant film, a loving throwback to yesteryear, and an homage to the masters. The Coens got it totally right. But, as a rule, if your name isn't Howard Hawks, Frank Capra, or Preston Sturges, back away from the screwball! Don't even try it.

And no matter how many times people compare you to Cary Grant, Georgie, you are NOT Cary Grant. Got it?

I think I've gotten most of the gloating out of my system, for the moment, except for a couple final jabs (I have to go out swinging, don't I?), so it's time to just kick back and bask. Let me enjoy this rare Clooney failure. Like Daniel Plainview with a milkshake, I want to drink it up.

That poster of George Clooney's grotesquely self-satisfied mug used to make me sick to my stomach from contemptuous disgust. Well, it still makes me sick to my stomach...only now it's from vindictively vindicated laughter. "The Brains"? Man, irony's a bitch.

Safe in the Hands of Todd Haynes

I'm in love with Todd Haynes. I know he's gay, but I'm okay with that. This beautiful man has captured my heart and stimulated my mind in ways few filmmakers ever have. Let me briefly summarize my Haynes chronology. My introduction to his work was Far From Heaven, which I absolutely adored. I think it's a glorious, loving homage to Douglas Sirk and All That Heaven Allows, as well as a socially conscious, poignant, intelligent reinterpretation of that film, melodrama, and cinema in general. Next came I'm Not There, which I dubbed the best film of 2007. For my glowing review, go here. His grasp of filmmaking, his ability to challenge preconceptions of what film should be, and his total dedication to his art, which are consistent elements in all of his films, blew my mind. Haynes thinks on levels that most people probably don't even possess. I'm Not There is a work of genius. Then, I really got to know and love him as a person with his wonderfully endearing appearances on the Independent Spirit Awards, both having fun (good-naturedly, at his own expense - the Rainn Wilson fake audition for I'm Not There and his "Rainn on Film" interview) and being vulnerable, articulate, and moving (his acceptance speech for the Robert Altman Award and his tribute to Heath Ledger). Just when I thought he couldn't get any better, I saw Safe. Hi, my name is Lisa, and I'm a Haynes-a-holic.

Written and directed by Haynes, Safe is an underrated gem that was released in 1995. The people who have seen it love it, but I think it's been tragically buried by time. It stars Haynes' muse, Julianne Moore, as Carol White, an upper-class suburban housewife with too much time on her hands. Like all of Todd Haynes' work, this is a very challenging film. I was totally engrossed while watching it, but it affected me so profoundly, both emotionally and especially intellectually, that I had to just sit and collect my thoughts for about five minutes before I could even begin to vocalize my reaction to my viewing companion. Safe is deeper than the darkest recesses of the ocean. Seriously. Safe is a marvel. To describe it almost seems futile. I could never capture or distill its brilliance in mere words, which is why I'm going to keep this review fairly short. I also don't want to give anything away.

Carol is married to Greg (Xander Berkeley, from 24), but he's always working. They have extremely mechanical sex, and they're so detached from each other. She starts feeling sick, for no apparent reason, and he pretty much dismisses her. Her vapid friends aren't much help either. How could they be? No one really knows each other. Safe is set in the 80s, by the way, so there's a delightful use of music and costumes. Even though it's a period piece (the 80s is a period!), Safe transcends time. It's just as relevant today, maybe even more so. Carol keeps getting sicker, and she eventually discovers a group (more like a cult) of people who are suffering from her symptoms. She goes to live with them at a sort of commune - to make sure she's safe. Basically, Carol and these other people are allergic to modern society. They're sick as a result of all the toxins, chemicals, and other invisible monsters plaguing our sterile world. What is our chemical-laden, sterilized, disconnected, modified, artificial society really doing to us? How many times have people gotten sick and doctors can't figure out why? It's pretty compelling, don't you think?

Anyway, to leave it at that is a gross oversimplification of the plot and of Haynes' message and intentions. There's so much more going on. I've barely scratched the hypo-allergenic surface. Safe is so deliciously provocative. It's also very unsettling. It's a film that you will never forget once you've seen it. The aesthetic and technical aspects of Safe are as deliberate and brilliant as anything I've ever seen. Everything is so carefully planned out. Most of the shots are extreme long shots in order to capture the isolation and detachment rampant in society, as well as the more personal isolation and detachment of Carol. Moore is often just a tiny dot on the screen, trapped in her palatial suburban prison. The compositions are divinely intricate. The colors pulsate. The incomparable sound design engulfs us, making us feel as oppressed as Carol. It's astonishing how horrific Haynes can make even the most mundane household noises sound.

Julianne Moore, an actress I've always adored, is DYNAMITE as Carol White. It's a performance for the ages. She's so restrained and subtle. It's like watching a poem. She totally gets lost in the character, and from the second we see her, we're lost in her, too. She's empathetic and completely heartbreaking. It's the best work I've ever seen her do, and that's saying a lot. Her relationship with Todd Haynes is just pure magic. Safe is so outstanding, such a pillar of cinematic achievement, that it could be the basis of a whole semester-long film class in which you break it down shot by shot. It's that good. Each shot is a masterpiece, and when you combine all of those individual masterpieces, it's practically orgasmic. The final shot will make your heart pound and leave you breathless.

Todd Haynes is a genius. He's one of the most sensitive, intelligent, and talented filmmakers working today. He never plays it safe (see what I did?), and in my opinion, it always pays off. Safe is loaded with meaning, metaphors, allegories, satire, scathing criticism, and social commentary. It's one of the most fulfilling and rewarding cinematic experiences I've ever had, and I think it'll only get better each time I watch it.

Safe has totally heightened my awareness of myself and my surroundings. I can't stop thinking about this film. It's haunting me. I'm fascinated, and justifiably disturbed, by the questions raised by Haynes with this film. What does being "safe" mean to me? Is the meaning different for every person? Are any of us really safe? And then there's this thing, this elaborate mechanism on planet Earth known as civilized society, something which has evolved and supposedly been perfected over thousands of years. Is Safe saying that society is poison? I'd say so. Well...IS society poisonous? Are we literally killing ourselves with the artificial, impersonal world that we created?

I buy it.

Rating: ***** (out of 5)

Top 20 of 2007: Redux

I know this is really ridiculous since it's practically mid-April, but I'm finally posting my revised list of the best films of 2007. It's been almost three months since I posted my original list, and it took me so long just to come up with that one. After I did it, though, I realized I might have decided a bit too soon, since there were quite a few notable 2007 releases that I hadn't seen. As I started catching up, my list changed dramatically, and I had to make room for some new additions. I don't want to take anything away from my original list. I stand by it, because that was the best of what I had seen at the time, and even though some films have been bumped off entirely, that doesn't mean that I love or respect them any less. I just saw other films that I loved and enjoyed a bit more. The order of the survivors has also changed slightly. For comparison purposes, you can view my original list here.

Anyway, I've been delaying this because I take my lists very seriously, and this was a really tough call. I've spent a lot of time thinking about the films, and it's been a difficult process deciding which to keep, which to add, and what order to put them in. They're all five-star films, so ranking them was particularly challenging. I could probably flip-flop and shuffle them and tweak the list for all eternity, but I had to just go with my heart and my instincts and stop the madness, so this is the final fruit of my ordering labor. There were also more 2007 films I wanted to see, and I thought that they might end up being contenders. But, I finally put my foot down. This has to be the last call, because otherwise it could go on forever. I can't possibly see everything. Whatever I haven't seen yet...in the words of John Lennon, well...oh well. I'm satisfied now, and that's how it's going to stay.

Without further ado, I present my definitive list of the best films of 2007:

1. I'm Not There
2. Juno
3. No Country for Old Men
4. After the Wedding
5. Atonement
6. Black Book
7. The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters
8. Into the Wild
9. Once
10. L'Iceberg
11. Planet Terror
12. The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
13. Superbad
14. Waitress
15. The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford
16. 2 Days in Paris
17. Sunshine
18. In the Valley of Elah
19. There Will Be Blood
20. Lust, Caution

C'est fini! La fin!

For real.

I promise.

Wacky Waving Inflatable Arm Flailing Tubeman

Now that I've gotten your attention with my wacky waving inflatable arm flailing tubeman antics, I think it's extremely apropos that the wacky waving inflatable arm flailing tubeman - the ultimate expression of "Look at me! Check ME Out!" - is introducing my momentous 100th post! Woohoo! So, look at me, check ME out! 100 posts! Yay! I'm really excited and extremely proud. This is such a huge deal for me. Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading! I mean that from the bottom of my heart. This blog has been so rewarding. I'm not going anywhere (200 posts, I'm coming to get you), so I hope you don't either. Please keep reading - I really appreciate your support. So, it's time to par-tay! And honestly, what better way to celebrate this occasion than with a wacky waving inflatable arm flailing tubeman?

Actually, all wacky waving inflatable arm flailing tubeman shenanigans aside, I really am doing something with this post. This a review of the straight-to-DVD Family Guy Presents Stewie Griffin: The Untold Story. I know it might seem random, but I had a plan all along. The wacky waving inflatable arm flailing tubeman is featured in one of the movie's many non-sequitur-y cut-aways. These cut-aways, usually preceded by a "It's just like the time I..." or "Remember when...", are a major part of Family Guy's success. They're a staple of the show, and the movie is no different. That's what I love about Stewie Griffin: The Untold Story - it doesn't mess with a time-tested, perfect formula. Even if the episodes, stories, or jokes aren't always perfect (and trust me, they're aren't - the show is not infallible), the formula IS. This movie stays true to the spirit of the show and doesn't try to be anything else.

That being said, I think that's also one of the movie's flaws, if that makes any sense. It almost stays TOO close to the show. I'm not asking for something as grandiose as The Simpsons Movie (which I didn't like very much), but when you have the opportunity to go, pardon the expression, balls-out on an uncensored straight-to-DVD movie, you should come out with all guns blazing. Family Guy has always pushed the envelope with its offensive, scathing brilliance, but I was slightly disappointed that they didn't push it more with this movie. It's a bit safe, which is something I never thought I'd say about Family Guy. The movie does stick with the formula, which I appreciate as a loyal fan, but I don't think it does anything special with the formula to make it stand out from any regular episode. Stewie Griffin: The Untold Story is basically three episodes rolled into one and extended, stretched even, to 88 minutes. So help me, I wanted more vulgarity and debauchery from my favorite cartoon family.

The DVD came out first, and then they actually did chop it up into three separate episodes for a three-part season four finale, which is why the movie feels just like a really long episode. It is. The three episodes are entitled "Stewie B. Goode," "Bango Was His Name Oh!", and "Stu and Stewie's Excellent Adventure." I saw the three episodes separately first. They function really well as individual installments. The holding-back on the movie makes sense if you look at it in the context of them expecting to split it three ways. They didn't want to wrestle with having to change too much to appease censors. Whatever. The movie is still disappointing in its lack of chutzpah. Anyway, when I watched the movie, I was surprised at how seamlessly the three parts flowed together. So, they did a really good job in that respect. There's obviously some big chunks removed for TV, and whatever couldn't be removed was altered to make it Fox-friendly. The TV version even has a couple additions, such as a 24-style opening on the third episode voiced by none other than Jack Bauer himself, Kiefer Sutherland. The biggest additions to the movie are at the beginning and end. Stewie Griffin: The Untold Story plays out even more self-referentially than usual, with the Griffins actually walking the red carpet for the premiere of this very film at the beginning and having an after-party at the end, discussing what they did during the cancellation break for work and also taking some pointed jabs AT the cancellation. I really liked both of these parts.

To briefly summarize the plot, baby Stewie has a near-death experience at a swimming pool, sees a man on TV who looks exactly like him, assumes that he must be his real father, and goes looking for him. Wow, I didn't think I could be so succinct with my description. I don't want to give away what happens with the Stewie-lookalike mystery man, so I'll let you discover that. The movie has a subplot with Peter and Lois, frustrated from never getting any alone time, trying to get Chris and Meg out of the house by giving them dating lessons. Peter has Meg shave his back and traps her in the car while he farts, telling her to "love the gas." These are the most romantic things a girl can do for a guy, after all. Lois utilizes electro-shock therapy to get Chris to remember the names of the characters on Sex and the City. It's a lot of fun. Overall, the script is really tight and well-written. It's a neat, compelling plot. And Stewie's story is great, but I think the movie falls apart in the third act, or the third episode. I just didn't care for it very much. The movie is also just too long. Other than that, it's hilarious (I laughed out loud a lot), the gags are fantastic, and most of the cutaways are priceless, as usual. Stewie Griffin: The Untold Story is a worthwhile endeavor.

Some highlights include Peter's short-lived segment on the news ("You Know What Really Grinds My Gears?"), Ollie Williams (one of my favorite supporting characters) promoting Adopt-a-Pet, a spoof of Wilfred Brimley's diabetes commercials, Walt Disney coming back to life after being frozen, asking if the Jews were gone yet, finding out that they weren't, and asking to be re-frozen, post-near-death experience Stewie being nice, drunk Stewie, and, of course, a cheesy commercial for wacky waving inflatable arm flailing tubemen.

I think the tubeman bit is one of the funniest things I've ever seen. Just check this out, and imagine it being delivered with lightning-fast, Howard Hawks-like speed: "Hi, I'm Al Harrington, President and CEO of Al Harrington's Wacky Waving Inflatable Arm Flailing Tube Man Emporium and Warehouse! Thanks to a shipping error I am now overstocked on wacky waving inflatable arm flailing tube men, and I am passing the savings on to *you*! Attract customers to your business, make a splash at your next presentation, keep grandma company, protect your crops, confuse your neighbours! African American? Hail a cab, testify in church or just raise the roof! Whatever your wacky waving inflatable arm flailing tube man needs, come on down to Al Harrington's Wacky Waving Inflatable Arm Flailing Tube Man Emporium and Warehouse, route two in Weekapaug!" Classic.

Stewie Griffin: The Untold Story is really, really good, with lots of great moments, but it's not quite great overall. I forgive Seth MacFarlane and company, though. Family Guy, the series, is so genius that it hardly matters. Don't get me wrong, the movie is still well worth checking out, but they've done much better, and so consistently that it's astonishing. I have a confession... I've recently decided that I prefer Family Guy to The Simpsons. Gasp. And I LOVE The Simspsons, so this is big. I grew up with it and can quote whole episodes. This is a really major conclusion, akin to an epiphany. It's huge for me to admit it. But it's true - I love Family Guy more. By the way, Stewie Griffin: The Untold Story is vastly superior to The Simpsons Movie. Sorry, maybe that's a cheap shot, but so be it.

I still adore The Simpsons (that'll never change), but for me, few shows compare to the excellence of Family Guy, and certainly no other animated show does. In fact, I don't think any TV show has ever brought me more gut-busting, glorious, soul-healing laughter, sheer joy, and blissful entertainment than Family Guy.

Rating: **** (out of 5)

The Part of Grindhouse That Really Grinds My Gears

Upon discovering that I had seen Grindhouse in theaters (with Planet Terror and Death Proof viewed together as one experience) and both films in their extended forms separately and that Bill had only seen the two films as independent entities, Bill had a rather brilliant idea for this week’s installment of “She Said, He Said.” I would discuss how Grindhouse as a whole measured up to the two individual films when forced to stand alone and sink or swim on their own merit. Bill would review both films separately, not ever having seen them together in Grindhouse. To say that I’ve had a turbulent relationship with Death Proof is an understatement, but I’ll explain that in our collaboration (check for it late today or early tomorrow here). I rewatched Death Proof in preparation for this undertaking, and I’m extremely conflicted about the film. My thoughts are totally jumbled. If I’m going to do justice to our collaboration, I have to review Death Proof myself first before I can put it in the context of my experiences. I need to make some sense of my feelings.

Death Proof has been, and still is, a huge thorn in my side, so this review has been a long time coming. I have the utmost respect for Quentin Tarantino. I think he’s one of the best filmmakers working today, and I love his extensive knowledge of and appreciation for cinematic history. Clearly, he loves grindhouse films, and Death Proof is his homage to that genre. Or is it an homage to himself? This is his most self-indulgent film by a long shot. His purpose is muddled. He doesn’t go far enough to make it a cheeky, winking reinvention, but he doesn’t have the plot or characters required for a real film. So, I don’t know what it is other than a mess.

Tarantino loves women. We get it. Death Proof is basically Tarantino’s wet dream, complete with his prolific, rather disturbing foot fetish. The film starts with a shot of pretty female feet on a dashboard. Gag. Okay, I’m warning you now – this review is going to be spoiler city. I can’t possibly exorcise my feelings without getting into the plot details. Death Proof is essentially two separate films weakly connected by a character known as Stuntman Mike (Kurt Russell). The first half of the film centers around a group of bitchy, slutty, alcoholic potheads, including Butterfly (Vanessa Ferlito), Shanna (Jordan Ladd), and local DJ Jungle Julia (Sydney Poitier, daughter of the legendary Sidney). All the girls talk about is getting laid and getting trashed. I don’t mind women speaking graphically about sex. I love Sex and the City. But in Death Proof, there’s nothing else going on. There’s no rhyme or reason to any of it. I think Tarantino mistakes women speaking vulgarly for empowerment.

“The Girls,” as the women in Death Proof are billed in the credits, in the first half are being stalked by Stuntman Mike and his scary skull-embossed car. Shanna is practically a non-entity as a character only notable for telling a guy (director Eli Roth) how to pronounce her name: “It’s Shanna Banana, not Shawna Banawna.” Butterfly and Jungle Julia share the spotlight in this part, which takes place in a dive-bar run by no other than Quentin Tarantino in a cameo that way overstays its welcome. Butterfly finds out that Jungle Julia talked about her on the radio and offered a challenge. Any guy that comes up to Butterfly, buys her a drink, and repeats a poem gets a lap dance in return. What a great friend. The girls spend far too long at this bar engaging in inane conversation (there’s lots of inane conversation in Death Proof). Jungle Julia sends some random text messages. The girls dance erotically. They blather on and on. Oh, Stuntman Mike is also at the bar. He eats nachos and strikes up a conversation with Pam (a blonde Rose McGowan), who needs a ride home. Even this description is practically lulling me into a coma. It’s SO boring.

Naturally, Stuntman Mike approaches Butterfly, says the magic words, and after some goading that includes him calling her “chicken shit,” she agrees to give him a lap dance. The lap dance scene is one of the strongest in the film. The music is great, it’s well-shot, and it’s actually pretty empowering, despite the obvious objectification. Also, it’s just plain hot. Ferlito really works it. Then, it ends, and it’s back to more awful dialogue. Pam gets in the car with Stuntman Mike. The car is “death proof,” meaning it’s been fortified for stuntwork in movies. Her seat is all boxed-in and sealed off with plastic from his part. So, he starts driving, gets all homicidal, and slams her around until she croaks. I guess that was just an appetizer. Jungle Julia, Shanna, Butterfly, and their random friend Lena (she’s driving) are cruising around high as a kite and totally drunk. As they listen to some typically cutesy Tarantino music really loudly, Stuntman Mike plows into them head-on, and we see the crash four different ways to see how each girl bites it. If I’m talking about this methodically, it’s because the film IS methodical. It’s so meaningless. The crash would have impact if he actually wrote characters we cared about. There’s some crap at a hospital with a sheriff (Michael Parks) speculating on Stuntman Mike’s vehicular homicide (he’s still alive), but it can’t be proven. Blah blah blah. End of Film One.

Beginning of Film Two. Enter a new set of “girls” to drive us nuts. Aren't we lucky? This group consists of Abernathy (Rosario Dawson), Kim (Tracie Thoms), Zoe (Zoe Bell), and Lee (Mary Elizabeth Winstead). To be fair, these women at least get equal screen time, the first three anyway. Winstead gets left behind, literally, as you’ll see. Still, these characters are just as shallow as the first group, but slightly less annoying. The second half of the film is better than the first. So, Stuntman Mike has somehow found this batch of girls at a convenience store. He touches a sleeping Rosario Dawson’s feet and drives away. When he reappears at the end of the film, I’d almost forgotten he was in it. These girls are all involved in the movie industry. Zoe Bell, playing herself, is a stuntwoman visiting America from New Zealand. Abernathy does make-up, Lee’s a famous movie star, and Kim is also a stuntwoman. They have leave for a few days, so they decide to raise hell. Whoo. They have a vulgar, insanely annoying, long-winded conversation in the car about sex. Typical. After all, that’s what women do. Apparently, all women do it all the time. Boy, Tarantino really gets us. We also prance around in lingerie, have naked pillow fights, and compare boobs during sleep-overs. Ugh. Anyway, after an intolerably long scene at a restaurant, during which the girls talk about absolutely nothing, with the camera just spinning around the table for like ten minutes, Zoe says she wants to go drive a car like the one in Vanishing Point, some cult classic action movie with a presumably fierce car chase. A local guy is selling one, so they go to his place.

Zoe wants to play a game called “Ship’s Mast” with Kim. They argue about it for a bit, and then Kim agrees. They need to convince the guy to let them take the car for a test drive on their own. When Abernathy learns that they plan on leaving her and Lee behind as collateral, she gets pissed. It’s brought up that Abernathy is a mother. Keep that in mind. Abernathy says that if she gets him to agree, she gets to go along for the ride. Lee is left behind, and the guy clearly wants to have sex with her, so I don’t know if potential rape is supposed to be funny, but it’s not. We don’t ever find out what happens, because that’s the last we see of Lee. Plot hole! Once on the road, Kim and Zoe prepare to do their daredevil business. Ship’s Mast involves Zoe sprawled out on the hood of the car on her back, each hand gripping a belt attached to the car, while Kim drives as fast as she can. Abernathy is freaked out at first but starts loving it. Oh, but wouldn’t you know it, Kurt Russell is still in this movie! Here he comes! He catches up to the girls and slams into the car from behind. This begins what is allegedly one of the greatest car chases ever captured on film. I’m dubious. He slams into them a bunch, Zoe loses her grip, and it goes on like that for about ten minutes. Phase One of the chase ends, the cars stop, Zoe has been projected off the hood and possibly killed, and Kim shoots Stuntman Mike before he speeds off. Abernathy and Kim cry for a few seconds and then Zoe pops out of the bushes completely unharmed.

In Phase Two of the chase, the girls seek revenge. They set out to kill him. Hmm, that’s quite a drastic turn of events. So, they catch up with him and start slamming into him. Eventually, his car flips over, and the girls take turns punching the crap out of him. He finally gets taken down by Zoe’s roundhouse kick to the face. The girls leap into the air, victorious, and the film ends with a freeze frame of this joyous celebration. Cut away to see “Written and directed by Quentin Tarantino,” and then cut back to the girls. A very limber Abernathy extends her leg up as far as possible, holds it there with her hands, and then slams her boot into Stuntman Mike’s face, crushing his skull. The end for real. What…the hell…was THAT? I’m sorry if my plot description was annoying. I was really trying to make it somewhat interesting. If it sounds tedious, it is. In fact, just reliving it like that was torture for me. There are so many problems with this film that I don’t know where to begin. I honestly don’t know what Quentin Tarantino was thinking. I think Tarantino is brilliant, so that’s why I expect more of him, and that’s why Death Proof is such a massive, epic disappointment. Well, it’s a disappointment because it sucks, but also because he can do better.

Here’s how it boils down: I think Tarantino wanted to film a car chase, and then he was like, “Oh crap, now I need to fill 90 minutes.” That’s how it feels. It’s forced, gapingly empty, pointless filler. Death Proof is painfully, often excruciatingly, boring. It borders on torture. The dialogue is an unending nightmare. The character development is pitiful to non-existent. Maybe instead of forcing us to listen to them ramble on incessantly, he could have made them seem like real people. The sad thing is - I think Tarantino actually believes that he created well-developed, strong characters, especially strong females. Stuntman Mike is the most interesting character, but even he’s a lousy specimen. How about some backstory? Why is he like this? Why does he pick out these particular women? Why is Stuntman Mike a killer? We know he likes eating nachos, but not why he kills women with his car. The women in the first half are pathetic. They’re oversexed blow-up dolls with no discernible personalities. They make me ashamed to be a woman. Butterfly is the best female character in the whole film, but even she gets slighted. We don’t get to know her, and I only care about her because Vanessa Ferlito does a spectacular acting job. Rose McGowan’s Pam is sort of sympathetic, but I think I’m just carrying over some of my affection for her from Planet Terror. She hates the other girls, so that makes me empathize with her because I hate them, too, so I suppose that’s something. Shanna is worthless, and Jungle Julia is one of the most annoying characters I’ve ever seen in a movie. She delivers a line, repeatedly, that haunts my nightmares and makes me scream inside every time I hear it: “Kinda cute, kinda hot, kinda sexy, hysterically funny, but not funny-looking guy who you could fuck…” And Sydney Poitier gives a terrible performance. She’s so irritating that by the time Stuntman Mike crashed into them and her leg (hanging out the window) gets ripped off, I was ready to tear it off myself and smack her upside the head with it. The accident is well-shot. Fine. Whatever. What does it mean, though? I don’t care about the characters. I don’t know them, so it doesn’t matter that they die. There’s no emotional impact.

It’s so hard to decide which group of girls I hate more. I will say this: I liked the second half a lot more than the first. The dialogue is less aggravating, and the acting is better overall. Also, it’s just more entertaining. Okay, it’s decided. I hate the first group of girls more. But the girls in the second group are no winners either. All the characters are so shallow and vapid. During the car chase, I did find myself occasionally engaged emotionally, or at least viscerally, with the characters. I was with them, at least until they went all homicidal. Even then, though, there were moments when I just felt, on a gut-level, like shouting, “You go, girls! Kick some ass! Damn the man!” But I’m not proud of it. They’re not good role models at all. The second half is better because I did have those brief instances of empathetic involvement. Still, how they reacted bewildered me. First of all, how could they leave Lee behind with the creepy guy in the middle of nowhere? And why don’t we ever find out what happened to her? It’s a plot hole the size of the Grand Canyon.

Okay, let’s discuss the girls turning into killing machines. I don’t buy it. It’s stupid and inexplicable. I know he came after them first, but the answer is NOT to turn them into homicidal maniacs. Does Tarantino really believe that’s empowering? I think he does. It’s not, though. He’s totally wrong. The worst part is Abernathy kicking his face in at the end. Where does that come from?! They made such a big deal out of her being a mother. All of a sudden, this mother is going to put her life on the line to exact some potentially suicidal feminine revenge? The mother is going to be the one to deliver the final blow? Abernathy the Mommy crushes his skull in with her sexy high kick? No, no, no! I don’t get it. Why mention she’s a mom at all? What’s the point? It makes the ending even more offensive and incongruous because of it. The girls in the second part are nothing but action figures, and just as plastic and empty.

Death Proof is well-made. Tarantino is an excellent technician. He knows film. He did his own cinematography, and it looks wonderful, although at times he cares more about making it pretty than making it look grindhouse. The car murder and the car chase are great (but to what end?), his music selection is awesome as always, and there’s some good acting. Kurt Russell is excellent and has a blast but is totally wasted in this movie. Vanessa Ferlito, Rosario Dawson, Tracie Thoms, and Mary Elizabeth Winstead are good (that’s all the praise I can muster). Zoe Bell (most renowned for being Uma Thurman’s stunt double in Kill Bill) is a phenomenal stuntwoman but an appalling actress. Tarantino does a commendable job in the first half keeping up the grindhouse look (scratches, skips, etc.), but that look pretty much disappears in the second half. I’ve heard a theory about this that the first half (and the women) represent the old grindhouse films, which is why they’re victimized, and the second half is a modern (hence the lack of skips) depiction of girl power. The first girls lose, and the second girls win. This is a compelling argument, and I agree with it to some extent, but there’s no excuse for such miserable characters or for such a blatantly negative message. The second half is NOT feminist. The characters need to be real human beings, which these women aren't, in order to be empowering paradigms of feminism. They’re nothing. All they are at the end are caricatures, and caricatures can't be empowering. And while they DO win, they win by killing. Whee.

I don’t think the second half is necessarily sexist or misogynistic, but it’s certainly not pro-feminist or empowering. The characters aren't inherently offensive (except maybe for the murderous impulses), but the way Tarantino obviously idolizes them and glowingly depicts them, like superheroes, for no reason or for the wrong reasons, is troublesome. Hmm, when I think about it that way, I guess the second half IS sexist and even misogynistic. The first half, on the other hand, is totally and unquestionably anti-feminist and misogynistic. The characters are disgraceful to all women, and the objectification, which occurs throughout but is most prominent in the first half, is sickening. The characters in the first half are submissive, sleazy, loathsome, grotesque imitations of women, but the characters in the second half, while not as awful or as dangerously represented as their predecessors, go too far in the other direction. They're harmful parodies and grotesquely exaggerated in a different way. They're action figures from the Hot Babes Kicking Ass collection. They have no other identities. Basically, they're completely naïve projections of men's clichéd fantasies.

I know people will probably say I’m missing the point and that the women are supposed to be one-dimensional symbols. Bullshit! No, they’re not. They're not strong women because there's nothing there! They're totally shallow and hollow. If the characters had depth and three-dimensionality, the film would be more effective in denouncing oppression and misogyny. There’s nothing ironic about it as it stands. The way Tarantino handles it, like a boy just entering puberty, is clumsy and, yes, offensive. I know he loves women (hell, he worships them) and that he isn't a misogynist, and I think he had good intentions, but he fails. Death Proof is not a positive example of feminine strength. It’s the opposite. His idea of feminism is women swearing and talking frankly and graphically about sex, just like men do. Oh, how bold of him. This form of "candid" discussion occurs equally in both halves of the film, but the talk is detrimental and meaningless when the characters have no depth to back it up. For both groups of characters, the dialogue is just sensationalistic exploitation of preconceived notions and socially accepted standards of femininity and feminine behavior that is neither enlightening nor clever. You're not aiding the cause, Quentin.

For awhile, I wasn’t sure if the film was sexist or not. I knew it wasn’t empowering, but I didn’t know if it was just neutral or if it actually crossed the line to sexist. For me, it crosses the line. The film is a whole lot of nothing, but I can’t dismiss the negative female representations, however unintentional. I think Death Proof was intended to be an intellectual experiment, but that doesn’t mean it’s immune from criticism on the feminist front. I think his point was to show the first women as objects and the second women as the predators (for once), but I don’t care. It doesn’t work. He can make that point with fully-fleshed out characters, too. In fact, it’d be better that way.

I can’t help it. I’m offended. I know it’s just a movie, but I see these female characters, and I’m disgusted. They talk and act like Tarantino WANTS women to talk and act. This film is all wish-fulfillment. Not only that, Death Proof is so self-congratulatory on Tarantino’s part. Like I said before, it’s more an homage to himself and his misguided ideas and ideals of womanhood than an homage to grindhouse films. Talk about being stuck in arrested development. “The girls” are his drooling, horny, shallow, perverted, lust-fueled, hormone-ravaged creations. He usually writes strong female characters, which is why I’m so disappointed and angry. There’s none of his usual irony, satire, or intelligence here. I could probably write a book about Death Proof and never reconcile my conflicting thoughts and feelings or be fully satisfied with any sort of conclusion, but this is the best I can do. I’ll leave you with this: Death Proof is nothing more than the delusional, masturbatory fantasy of Quentin Tarantino.

Rating: *1/2 (out of 5) - This is my rating for the extended, solo version of Death Proof. When I saw it as a part of Grindhouse, I HATED it, like I don't think I've ever hated a film. I still hate it with a passion, but I do concede that it's better on its own, and I can swallow my pride and admit that I liked it more away from Planet Terror. Putting the explosive genius of Planet Terror before it was the worst move ever. It just made Death Proof look even worse by comparison. As a part of Grindhouse, I would have given Death Proof half a star or possibly even a zero. It's been a long, hard journey to arrive at the one and a half I give it now.