What's new in Death Proof? Well, a lot of jibber-jabber. It's Tarantino jibber-jabber -- quick and juicy and deadpan and blunt and baroque -- but it's jibber-jabber nonetheless, minor time-filler between a few moments of twisted-metal glory or twisted-hum
Ladies and gentlemen, Quentin Tarantino presents Death Proof: another feature-length gimmick that chokes two screamingly good action sequences in a smog of self-indulgent, self-referential, self-satisfied flatulence.
The problem for Tarantino in Death Proof is that the girl talk that occupies so much of the running time is anything but true to the culture 50 years ago. The setting is contempo, but the movie style is period
The dialogue with which Tarantino is usually adept is disastrously clunky, the filmmaking largely without flair and even the apeing of the smears and scratches of the schlock originals seems ridiculous.
Deliberately designed to look like a low-grade B-flick from the Fifties, this slasher adventure from Quentin Tarantino is a guaranteed treat for that rare film fan nostalgic about the worst era in cinema.
Although overall impact of Tarantino's homage to chick-driven actioners and auto demolition derbies remains about the same, pic's second half, in particular, benefits from the further detailing it's now received.