So, Kip and I threw caution and personal commitments to the wind briefly and went to see Kill Bill this past Friday. It was just one of the many movies we’ve been meaning to see and the one we could catch right after our respective works downtown.

Somewhere during the first fight scene, waiting for the killing blow I thought to myself “Okay, why am I here?” As I’ve explained in a previous post, I can have a problem with the pain and suffering that accompanies extreme violence. And, let’s face it, this is the premise of Kill Bill in a nutshell—pain, suffering and extreme violence. Which I knew from the get-go. So why did I go?

Because Taratino is an exceptional storyteller. Because pain and suffering and violence are part of being human. And Taratino is very good at humanizing his psychopaths, even in this over-the-top samurai slice ‘em up flick. I felt wretched for everyone involved.

Some reviewers have complained how Kill Bill glamorizes violence. I didn’t see that at all. I think Chad Orzel at Uncertain Principles actually summed it up best in his post on Kill Bill, with a comparison between Kill Bill and the Matrix: Reloaded:

The Matrix: Reloaded is a movie makes you want to put on a leather trench coat and take a katana to a high-end SUV. Kill Bill is a movie that makes you want to stay very, very far away from people with swords. That’s the difference between a movie that glorifies violence, and a glorious movie that happens to be violent.

I think the most puzzling complaint was from a The New Yorker review on how Tarantino made you not care that a child witnessed the murder of her mother. Excuse me? First, that’s not how I took it it, and second, you didn’t care? Have audiences been spoon-fed their stories for so long in this genre of film that one has to be explicitly told how to feel about something, or is it just the critics? Because, wow, I would have thought that was a no-brainer.

Tarantino says he was inspired in part by Japanese cinema, and it shows, not only by all the katanas and certain special effects and choreographing of battle sequences but in the type of story it is. This is a tale of honor and revenge where everyone is essentially doomed. It’s more about how one comports oneself than whether one survives victorious. Uma Thurman’s character is essentially dead already, along with her loved ones. I think the expectations you take into a Tarantino flick can affect your appreciation. Many people bitch about Pulp Fiction and actually spend some effort in taking it apart from a logistical standpoint. Uh, Pulp Fiction is a fairy tale, guys. I think the title gives it away.

But even though I’m pretty sure I know how Kill Bill will end, hell, yes I’m going to see part two. Not for the violence, which by and large wasn’t too bad to watch, meaning I could stand certain scenes by studying my kneecaps. Certainly not as overwhelming as Reservoir Dogs, which I am very pleased to have seen, I think it’s an important movie, and one I have no intention of seeing again in this lifetime or any other. But I can certainly say the same about Welcome to the Dollhouse, a movie I left feeling even iller than than Reservoir Dogs—and I find it difficult to recommend either movie to people, as powerful as they are.

Anyway, I’m going back for the fine storytelling trickery Taratino loves so well, and does so well. I don’t feel like giving spoilers, so just trust me that he pulls off some nice and effect storytelling sequences. And whereas i don’t think he necessarily makes violence cool, he’s pretty good at bathing his characters in cool. Especially in processions, I mean, Elle Driver’s stroll down the corridor, let me me tell you, to say nothing of O-Ren Ishii strutting with her posse. If only we could do away with that pesky maiming…