Review of the First Half of Death Proof

I watched the first half of Quentin Tarantino's Death Proof by myself, yesterday, finishing late last night. I can say now, after eight hours of nightmares, this was a bad idea.

Tarantino is probably his (ours for us Eisengeisters) generation's greatest, most original filmmaker. He is also Hollywood's most ingenious sadist. He can terrorize, brutalize, and torture his audiences at will, but indulges sparingly; just enough to make it hurt. He's like a really talkative acquaintance that is so compelling you can't help but enjoy his company, though you know he will inevitably take you outside of your comfort zone, sometimes by just unexpectedly punching you in the face.

I regrettably never saw Grindhouse, but I suspect that the impact of Death Proof was somewhat muted by having Robert Rodriguez soften up the audience for an hour with flesh-eating zombies and high-firepower prosthetics. I assume that the additional footage in the DVD release of Death Proof is mostly Tarantino-style chatty character development, and Tarantino showing off his exquisite taste in popular music.

Just don't get too comfortable. This movie goes from vaguely creepy to white-hot terror in under seven seconds.