Now that Quentin Tarantino and that other guy's Weinstein experiment has been pummelled into pencil shavings at the box office by the likes of Are We Done Yet?, it seems an appropriate time for a little Shot/Reverse Shot from a couple of RS staff writers. Don't let anyone ever say we're behind the ball: We're just ahead of the trends....yeah.
First up on the main site is Jeannette Catsoulis:
"Tarantino loves women as only a nerd can, which is to say he’s also a little afraid of them (see also: castration). He’s a stalker of prey he was never allowed to touch, and words are his camouflage. (In his movies, the violence serves mainly as an excuse for the talking.) Death Proof may climax in a gut-churning car chase, but the movie’s heart remains firmly in its mouth; most of the time, the girls just gab, long, rambling conversations about sex and cars that sound as natural as Stallone and Willis nattering about macramé and silverware."
Click here to read Catsoulis's review in its entirety.
Then, over at Stop Smiling Online, courtesy of our own Nick Pinkerton:
"As to if the sum total of Tarantino’s effect on American film was for better or for worse is almost a moot argument now (though those of us who lived through the neo-noir glut of Destiny Turns on the Radio, Two Days in the Valley and Things to Do in Denver When You’re Dead, or the mercifully brief popularity of Urge Overkill, can all agree we wouldn’t want to do it again). It happened, we’re living with it, and new frauds leap up every day to make Quentin’s postmodern hully gully seem positively innocuous. Would film culture be richer, smarter, or more soulful if James Gray, Hal Hartley, Nick Gomez, Jim Jarmusch, or Whit Stillman had moved $100 million in tickets? Almost definitely yes, but then worrying about the disproportionate relation between artistry and popular approbation is a bit like fretting over the earth turning."
Click here for Pinkerton's review, top to bottom.