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Kill Bill Volume Two
The follow up installment of Tarantino’s ridiculously sensationalistic
sword slashing cinema is welcomed by Frank with eager open arms.
Kill Bill Vol. 2 (2004). Miramax
Films. 2 hours. 7 minutes. Starring: Uma Thurman, David Carradine,
Michael Madsen, Daryl Hannah, Michael Parks, Gordon Liu, Bo Svenson,
Jeannie Epper, Perla Honey-Jardine, Samuel L. Jackson. Directed
by: Quentin Tarantino.
The
wait is finally over! Several months after the release of writer-director
Quentin Tarantino’s blood-splattering and pulsating kinetic kung
fu caper Kill Bill Vol. 1, the anticipation to the follow up installment
of his ridiculously sensationalistic sword slashing cinema is welcomed
with eager open arms.
In the revenge-oriented actioner Kill Bill Vol. 2, the outlandish
and courageous mayhem of Tarantino’s pulverizing and oddly poetic
exposition continues where it left off in the original edition by
steam-rolling its farfetched and flaunting escapist visual escapades
to the ultimate limit. Clearly, Volume 2 is the ideal continuation
to force feed this electrifying opus that manages to contain the
furious excitement that whet the audience’s initial thirst for skillful
over-the-top stimulation the first time around.

The confrontational adventures of The Bride a.k.a. Black Mumba
(Tarantino’s Oscar-nominated Pulp Fiction pixie Uma Thurman) are
chronicled after her resourceful and hectic handling of her vivacious
adversarial assassins Vernita "Copperhead" Green (Vivica
A. Fox) and O-Ren Ishii (Lucy Liu).
Now that The Bride (incidentally, we learn that her actual name
is Beatrix Kiddo) has exacted her revenging rage on two of the aforementioned
Deadly Viper Assassination Squad (D.i.V.A.) members that previously
contributed to her intended demise, she’s out to finish what she
started with the remaining sadistic staff that failed to snuff her
out at the alter. More importantly, The Bride/Beatrix has to wade
through the likes of her sparring obstacles to reach the main target
that put the tarnished bounty on her back in the first place—the
elusive and tactical Bill (David Carradine).
Kill Bill Vol. 2 doesn’t have the rampaging destruction of the
cleverly choreographed fighting sequences as much as its predecessor
showcased in all its glorified and goofy-minded gore. In fact, Volume
2 has more of a character-driven aura to it that resonates in terms
of the tension-building moments that mount with each percolating
dosage of strife.
Still, Volume 2 is undeniably invigorating and intensifying because
our harried heroine The Bride/Beatrix Kiddo is determined to delve
into the thick of the forbidden unknown while avenging the gruesome
and gloomy past that made her the rustic and resilient hitwoman
with the ugly grudge so prominent. Hence, she has become quite numbing
emotionally in her delusional death-defying mode. Beatrix’s idea
of redemption is understandably cynical, abrupt, no nonsense, and
unapologetic. Certainly the devious Bill and his cohorts stepped
on the wrong scorpion to tangle with and now a heavy price must
be paid for their diluted defiance.
To quickly give a background for those who haven’t had a prior
opportunity to see what ticked off The Bride so wickedly in Volume
1, her former boss Bill and his heartless faithful followers created
an indescribable carnage in a sleepy Texas town that nearly spelled
disaster for Beatrix.
The mission: electing to savagely slay Beatrix along with the
attending well-wishers in the quaint, heated dusty chapel. Despite
mutilating their victim with a relentless barrage of nasty beatings
and a bullet to the noggin, a pregnant Beatrix miraculously survived
even though she was left to perish on that deranged day.
Through sheer determination thanks to a miraculous recovery that
enabled her to focus on her would-be murderers, Beatrix casually
concocted a list of the subject matters that she intends to make
accountable for her nightmarish misfortunes of yesteryear. Therefore,
her methodical need to dispose of her villainous counterparts is
essential as she makes her way down the listing until the showdown
results in finally facing the bombastic Bill. The saying "hath
no fury like a woman scorned" definitely applies here in the
hostile case of The Bride/Beatrix and her penchant for permanent
payback.
Before Beatrix can get a decent piece of Bill’s scheming hide,
she must first dispose of his lingering cronies. Eventually, the
persistent Beatrix tracks down Bill’s riff raffish brother Budd
(Michael Madsen) and runs into some difficulty when Bill’s sibling
manages to render her defenseless by seizing her lucky samurai sword.
Soon, Budd manhandles Beatrix as she finds herself buried alive
in a confining coffin. While looking to escape her current dilemma
in that underground claustrophobic container, we’re treated to the
flashback reminisces of Beatrix’s intricate detailed training with
her masterful Chinese kung fu mentor Pei Mei (Gordon Liu).
Once Beatrix dodges her plight from trashy Budd, she’s onto the
trail of bitter babe Elle Driver (Daryl Hannah). Of course Driver
is the one-eyed curvaceous and cutthroat cutie pie that actually
had a great chance to eliminate Beatrix during her comatose state
in the hospital in Volume 1 until Bill interfered and deemed it
"unfair" to off her in that sneaky, cowardice manner.
Driver is not too keen on having Beatrix breathe an ounce of fresh
air and one could imagine the orgasmic state of mind this venomous
vixen must have experienced when pummeling The Bride/Beatrix with
animalistic flare in an orgy of blood and guts. An animated fight
sequence ensues with the two wily women dueling before the comical
climax of having Beatrix hastily show Elle the perverse meaning
of seeing "eye to eye" in a riotous and cringing battle
scene involving a popped out pupil.
Finally, when Beatrix meets the slick sociopath Bill, things become
very interesting from the standpoint of the recollection of Volume
1’s ending. If one recalls Bill’s reassuring calling card at the
end of the first installment, he mentions the fact that he has Beatrix’s
daughter in tow should she get too pushy in her savvy slaughterhouse
tendencies.
Well, Beatrix’s kid is now a four-year old named BB (Perla Honey-Jardine)
and she’s at the centralized mercy of her perturbed parents Bill
and Beatrix. The trophy isn’t so much serving Bill’s horrid head
on the platter as much as it is retrieving the treasured child that
was ripped from Beatrix’s wound four years earlier after that blistering
wedding day massacre.
Kill Bill Vol. 2 is a wonderful and towed-down break from the gleefully
impish and eye-popping freakish bloodbath of its first half. Volume
1 was terrifically exhausting in the way it playfully tossed about
its cartoonish flourishes of ribaldry regarding the overwrought
exhilaration of chopped limbs and lifeless carcasses in a prolonged
session of a mindless bloodied celebration.
Tarantino took the outrageous liberty of letting it all hang loose
and carved an overwhelming niche in the fashionable way he perceives
the childhood genres that obviously captured his overactive imagination.
Kill Bill Volumes 1 and 2 are grandly cheeky offerings that recall
Tarantino’s ode to the countless blaxploitation, spaghetti westerns,
and martial arts flicks that ruled fiercely with unmatched superiority
within their given irreverent and frivolous significance.
There’s an appreciation for Tarantino’s kind of filmmaking that’s
refreshingly distinctive. What amounts to be brilliantly contagious
are the constant pop culture references that accompany the giddy
dialogue being uttered with contemptible joy not to mention the
usage of music that gives Tarantino’s movie projects a flippant
and probing personality. One can almost bask in the schizophrenic
delivery of his divided film. Volume 1 purposely handed us the circus
atmosphere of faceless characters engaging in the extended recklessness
of its careless and caustic core.
Yet in Volume 2, the film dares to come full circle and attempt
to give a redemptive purpose to the principle players by saddling
them with slightly more meaningful insight and substance. Even the
film’s leading lady finally is given an identity as Beatrix Kiddo
as a subtle means to define the completeness of the characterizations
and their motivation for being in the middle of this fearless frolicking
taking place. The sophistication in Volume 2 is aptly realized as
the proceedings take a considerable breather from the inspired nuttiness
of the film’s original half.
Overall, the cast is seemingly spry and having a splendid time
in the manner that they convey the thrilling edginess to Tarantino’s
warped world of celebrated violence in all its dazzling and defining
delirium.
Thurman is absolutely transfixing as the dour diva that spearheads
this wondrous and unflinching chopsocky fantasy with a liberating
gusto of a feminist firecracker looking to explode on cue. And former
Kung Fu television star David Carradine is an unctuous and smooth-talking
figurehead that conjures up what is perhaps one of the coolest and
calming villains seen in action movies in quite some time.
As Tarantino did with Oscar-nominated has-beens John Travolta in
Pulp Fiction and Robert Forster in Jackie Brown, Carradine too will
probably undergo a career transplant where this hyped movie will
rev up his prospects and bring some noteworthy attention to this
almost forgotten icon. Also, Daryl Hannah is exceptionally gamy
as the oily blonde bombshell Elle Driver whom impressively matches
wits and words with Thurman’s cold and distant killing machine Beatrix
Kiddo.
Tarantino’s tantalizing offbeat epic is a real exploration of rollicking
moviemaking that is strident in its winning enthusiasm to convey
a ruthless and suggestive commentary about how one clever-minded
artist is insistent upon stretching his admiration for cunning schlock
cinema.
Conversely, Volume 2 is an elaborate and degenerate dandy of a
well-crafted snappy piece of excitable entertainment. This is indeed
a rousing and riveting rush that needs to be digested by adventuresome
moviegoers who cater to the sinister sensibility of a sharp popcorn
pleaser that pierces so gallantly with pleasurable aplomb.
Frank Ochieng
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