Word: proof
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...debate, Charlier announced she had been killed by mercury poisoning. "History and forensic science are crossing paths more and more frequently," said Charlier. "Forensics now gives us the scientific means to perform autopsies on the past. As for the relics of St. Joan of Arc, our tests give conclusive proof that these aren't her remains...
...What's odd about Death Proof is that it's equally indebted to the chatty, girl-obsessed, no-action comedies of the Frenchman Eric Rohmer. In such films as Chloe in the Afternoon and Pauline at the Beach, Rohmer fondly presents the extensive conversations of young women. Even more fully than Rohmer, Tarantino is beguiled by putting dialogue in the cute, potty mouths of two trios of girls who just wanna have fun. They talk and talk, and it ain't Shakespeare. Sure, most the actresses, especially in the first batch (Sydney Tamiia Poitier, Vanessa Ferlito), are pretty, but pretty...
...imagine the acrid smell, the seats with arms missing, the enthusiastic shouts or sometimes combative rants of the faithful. Everything else, Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez and their retro-hip posse mean to supply: a double feature - two 90 min. movies, Rodriguez's Planet Terror and Tarantino's Death Proof - plus four "prevues of coming attractions" from Rodriguez, Rob Zombie (Werewolf Women of the SS), Edgar Wright (the very funny Don't Scream) and Eli Roth (the even better horror holiday Thanksgiving...
...Woods On A Snowy Evening." (The QT version of that poem might end: "The road is kewl for this white trash / But I've a Challenger to smash /And miles to go before I crash...") But there's not much poetry, I mean of the pulp variety, in Death Proof. It doesn't show me much innovation, or much fidelity to the old grindhouse tropes. For example, in the seminal road movies of the late '60s and early '70s - Bonnie and Clyde, Easy Rider, Vanishing Point, Dirty Mary Crazy Larry - all those careening, careering antiheroes ended up dead. They paid...
...Death Valley in a 1990 Coupe de Ville with a temperature indicator on the dashboard - we hit 108 mph when the air outside was 108 degrees - my usual feeling behind the wheel is the apprehension that I'll be sideswiped by demon-driving jerks like the ones in Death Proof. When Zoe's and Mike's cars go barreling onto a highway, forcing the other drivers to go swerving and smashing, I imagine myself as one of the innocent victims of this rampage, not the caraholics I'm supposed to be rooting for or against...