This is by far Tarantino’s (Dir. Inglourious Basterds) worst movie. Originally drafted as part of a double header along with Richard Rodriguez’s Planet Terror, this movie along with Planet Terror are what the industry would colorfully refer to as throwbacks. Movie making is a fairly new medium, and it’s innovation has taken leaps and bounds in the last 4 decades. The movies of the 70’s were exploitation movies with little character or story development. It was simply an excuse to produce eye candy.
And Tarantino, with his extensive knowledge of film, takes on the exploitation formula in the broadest and quickest sense. It’s simple, get some pretty girls, some fowl language, some gnarly lookin’ guys and throw them together with some mayhem. The whole thing is pretty over the top ridiculous, and while there are noticeable homeage markers, overall, the film is just about as unbearable to watch as an exploitation film.
The one truly redeeming point of this movie is the titular aspect which is a car that is self-proclaimed as “deathproof” for the driver, one Stuntman Mike (Kurt Russell, Tango & Cash). Russell really sells the character and he is one you really love to hate. The rest of the cast, including Tarantino as an overweight bartender, are really flat, cardboard type ideas.
The concept itself of a killer that romes around in a sinister black mustang is lofty enough, but the execution of the story is awkward at best. Unless you’re a diehard for tarantino, which I happen to be, this is a 1.
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