#29 — Kill Bill
* This is an illustrated countdown of my 49 1/2 most essential action movies. Last week I didn’t talk about anything because the overwhelming tsunami of Covid-stress and personal responsibilities was topped with a cherry of police brutality and protests all across the nation. I could not, in good conscience, attempt to goof around with writing about violent action movies while pressing matters of justice weighed on our collective conscience. There’s an impulse to try and say something important in these moments, before realizing it’s best to just listen. Every new hour of each day holds something more to process. If you’re interested, the week BEFORE last week I talked about The Last Boy Scout.
I wanted to talk about this movie called “Kill Bill”, have you heard of it?* The title is very attention grabby, in that spaghetti western kind of way. Who’s Bill, and what could he have done that’s so bad you gotta name your movie like it’s a Wanted poster? *reads obituaries* Oh. Well if ever there were a reason for revenge, I guess this is it. I remember seeing something about this in the Entertainment section of the paper when it came out, the news was half bragging/worrying about it, saying “oh, it’s so much blood! We live in a society” and I was intrigued, but I didn’t see it until years later.
*for the record, I’m focusing primarily on Kill Bill vol. 1 here, which is the more action-y of the two parts, though vol. 2 contains essential emotional components that complete the experience.
I don’t know what the general consensus is on Kill Bill, but it feels like it’s deemed lesser Tarantino on account of it celebrates things that don’t win awards. Like maybe it’s just a guy playing out his juvenile fantasies and scratching his kung fu exploitation itch so he can get back to making big boy films — like the one where a bunch of crooks name themselves different crayons and shoot each other. I’m not trying to be insulting, just wondering why the movie with killers named after different snakes should be treated any different.
When style is this pronounced, it seems to have its own gravitational pull where the conversation defaults to “But in service to WHAT? Is this EARNED?” Those questions are fair in the sense that other, perhaps better films, have answered them on occasion. Sometimes though, you gotta give credit where it’s due. There’s a very funny interview where critic Jan Wahl basically scolds Tarantino over this matter, and isn’t quite prepared for his response. I think Kill Bill is one of the most stylistically rich tributes to a bygone era of filmmaking there has ever been, and sometimes that’s enough.
The first major action scene is a visceral and darkly comedic knife fight in the suburbs. Contrast that with the closer — an intimate, beautifully shot samurai duel in a snow-covered garden. And in between, you have the party-like main course at the House of Blue Leaves — which goes through different movements like a song. Geysers of red turn to black and white. Eventually, the music changes, and the Bride’s strategic approach to dismemberment along with it. Then we move to shadows backlit by blue lighting. Physical comedy is interspersed throughout, and punctuated by audio cues from the Wilhelm scream to the crash of bowling pin sounds. It has the manic energy of Raimi’s Evil Dead films, using editing to inform tone while keeping things dynamic. The colors pop like the cover of a comic book. Cherry red fountains of blood read less as gore and more like action exclamation points. It’s Jackson Pollock with a Hanzo sword. I see art in this, even if Jan doesn’t.
It’s not surprising that someone with such an old-school dedication to shooting on film would be able to replicate the look and feel of genre films he grew up with. The tropes and trademarks of old beat-em-ups are there too, but they feel handled with a love and enthusiasm that feels like the lifeblood of the movie. QT’s referential whims can be obnoxious at times, but I think this is the perfect kind of movie for some of his more complained about tendencies.
The code-named assassins feed into the pulpy traditions of films like Five Deadly Venoms or Five Elements Ninjas. It also reminds me of the diner scene in Tarantino’s own Pulp Fiction, where Uma Thurman’s character describes her failed TV show (a Charlie’s Angels knockoff) called Fox Force Five. They always come in fives.
You’ve also got an entire segment done in a sketch-like style of Japanese animation. Some might find it tedious, but I love how willing QT is to play with the format, presenting a whole new medium that has had its own influence on action cinema and pop culture. Kung fu legends like Sonny Chiba and Gordon Liu get fun roles to play, and the protagonist gets to wear her own updated version of Bruce Lee’s yellow jumpsuit in Game of Death. None if this feels like pandering, more like celebration and respect.
What really puts it all over the top for me is the Hanzo sword scene. The Bride goes to Japan and visits a sushi bar, coyly playing things as an oblivious tourist. But she knows who she’s really talking to, and Hattori Hanzo (Sonny Chiba) knows she’s not just there to buy souvenirs. Their testing of each other stems from respect, and eventually a reverence for something they both hold dear: the magical strength and beauty of the Hanzo sword. We get to see a whole gallery of them while a song titled “Kifuku suru Kizu”, by Salyu plays as if they were in a church. It’s my favorite piece of music in the movie — a perfect juxtaposition of beauty and underlying sadness. The sword is sacred, and Bill has defiled it. I get the sense that QT looks at some of these old movies in the same way that The Bride does with these swords.
I think this is a modern masterwork of genre filmmaking, with feet firmly planted in two worlds at all times. East and West, old and new, cartoon and live action. It also represents a significant chapter in the career of Yuen Wo-Ping, who’s Hollywood blockbuster contributions served as a gateway for his (and many others) work in Hong Kong cinema — which inspired all of this.
