April Film of the Month: Kill Bill Vol. 2

Writer-Director Quentin Tarantino, who initially envisaged Kill Bill as a single four-hour film, has now crafted a second volume that stands firmly on its own (not to take anything away from Vol. 1, which was wonderful in its own right). Kill Bill Vol. 2 takes Uma Thurman's Bride character, essentially a cipher in the first film, adds many more layers to the character and transforms her from a killing machine to a woman of remarkable depth and complexity.

Even better, the film finally brings Bill himself into the picture. In Vol. 1, he was merely a voice; here, he's David Carradine in a performance as mesmerising, slinky, compelling, menacing and endlessly watchable as anything likely to appear on cinema screens this year.

Fans of the first film will remember that it ended with the revelation that the Bride's daughter (whose father is Bill), is still alive. Vol. 1 allowed the Bride to demonstrate her prowess as a master swordswoman and amoral assassin, especially in her blood-soaked encounter with Lucy Liu's O-Ren Ishii. Their battle showcased Tarantino's beloved kung-fu films at their ferocious best, crammed with so much action that there was barely time for character and plot development. Any who considered that to be a flaw should find no such fault with Vol. 2, as the Bride's newly realised motherhood gives her motivation and balances her character. No longer is she merely seeking revenge for the massacre that Bill ordered at her wedding rehearsal; now she's out to save a young girl's soul, if not her life.

Additionally the new film fills in a lot of the Bride's back-story. Instead of simply seeing a church floor strewn with bloodied bodies, we see the wedding rehearsal itself, meet her intended, played by Chris Nelson, and watch Bill's arrival on the scene, as he convinces a not-suspicious-enough Bride that he doesn't mind having been jilted. Prior to this, Vol. 2 itself opens with a brief black-and-white, retro sequence of the Bride driving in a convertible, announcing her intentions to finish Bill once and for all. The film, still in black-and-white, then immediately segues into Chapter 6, showing the events at the wedding chapel that set in motion the bloody episodes of revenge. (Look for a cameo from Tarantino troupe favourite Samuel L. Jackson, playing the coolest organist to ever play at a wedding.) The scene ends with Bill agreeing to help the ceremony along while outside his gang of assassins begins its silent approach.

We see the Bride trained by master Pai Mei (played with glee by Gordon Liu, a mainstay of the kung-fu films Tarantino devoured as a youngster and to which he continues to pay homage). Pai, a misogynistic, sadistic taskmaster who delights in viciously putting down his disciples, is a martial arts master. Bill was an early disciple, now Thurman's Bride (aka Black Mamba) despairs of ever matching his accomplishments. But she soon learns - including some skills that come in handy when she's buried alive by the superbly-played-with-maximum-menace Michael Madsen as Budd (in a scene horror-movie filmmakers will be trying to replicate for years to come).

We even see the Bride discover she's pregnant in a scene of perfectly pitched black comedy - and perhaps the first time a home pregnancy test has been used as a defensive weapon.
However, as good as Thurman is, she's upstaged by Carradine, whose deeply lined face speaks volumes even when he's silent. His Bill is a charming snake, seductive but ready to strike, his voice as much an invitation as a warning.

Over all this rules Tarantino, generating more excitement in a single frame than many directors muster in a lifetime. His passion for this stuff has been well documented; more impressive is his continuing ability to make us share that passion. Aiding him in no small measure is cinematographer Robert Richardson, who shoots in multiple styles and film stock, depending on the subject matter and characters at hand. His ability to mimic the kung-fu films of the '70s and '80s, including the harsh over-lighting and the rapid, often dizzying zooms, exhilarates and amuses. When the film reaches its final, inevitable confrontation, Tarantino wisely eschews an extended fight sequence for a long session of raw truth-telling that is no less charged or devastating than anything that has come before. (The presence of a third party, hinted at in "Vol. 1's" conclusion, is vital.)

Thurman, here and throughout the film, is so good, giving us a complex portrait of a wounded woman thirsty for blood, aware of her evil nature and holding out a sliver of hope that she might be able to put it all behind her. As Madsen's Budd puts it: "That woman deserves her revenge and we deserve to die. But then again ... so does she. So I guess we'll just see, won't we?" And see we do. Given how much there is to see, it safely can be said that "Kill Bill" is a movie that will be revisited countless times over the years, enjoyed, dissected and analysed to bits. It's a tribute to the immensely talented Tarantino, making us care about his cinematic obsessions as much as he does. It's a gift in both senses of the word.