Warning, this is filled with spoilers. Don’t read any further if you haven’t seen the film and you don’t some of the surprises given away.
My first question after seeing this film is this, “Is Quentin Tarantino capable of making a film that isn’t aggressively self reflexive and steeped in film history?”
Anyway, it is as though Mr. Tarantino has been gorging himself of pop culture for the past 40 years or so, until he was filled to bursting and then, like Mr. Creosote has to vomit it all out for all the world to wonder at.
Wonder at, because it is all so very artfully, carefully, masterfully arranged.
The Kung-Fu masters, the Ennio Morricone-like music, the Kurosawa like tableaus, the ’70’s pop culture references. Westerns, mariachi music, revenge, blood and motherhood.
It is the perfect new-millennium American movie.
For the moment, that is.
Until “Man on Fire” comes out.