In both Jackie Brown and Kill Bill: Vol. 2, Quentin Tarantino's camera cranes up away from key scenes depicting violence. In Jackie Brown, such a shot occurs when Ordell Robie (Samuel L. Jackson) drives away in his car to a deserted lot and murders Beaumont Livingston (Chris Tucker.) In Kill Bill: Vol. 2, a similar shot occurs in flashback, as the Deadly Viper Assassination Squad enters The Bride's (Uma Thurman) wedding chapel with the intention of murdering her.

I don't think it's a coincidence that this camera move--which has the effect of placing the audience at a remove from the action and deglamorizing it in the process--happens in these two specific Tarantino films, as they are, perhaps, the two films in his body of work to date with the most in common with each other. This comes initially as something of a shock for those who come to Vol. 2 on the heels of Kill Bill: Vol. 1, with its kinetic, astonishingly choreographed fights and visceral action violence. Vol. 2, while hardly short on flashy moves or Tarantinoesque excess, is altogether more contemplative from the get go and its final half hour depicts essentially the same vision as the last sequences in Jackie Brown do: each film gives us portraits of women who have been through it all, seemingly, yet who remain as resilient and strong as ever. Tarantino speaks again and again in interviews of how much he loves The Bride (whose real name is revealed here, in another gesture towards her humanization in this picture), as though she was more than a character to him but a real person. I believe his sincerity. Both Jackie and Vol. 2 end with virtually the same image: the film's heroine at the wheel of a car, driving off to a new chapter of her life.

The promised killing of Bill occurs in this film, but Tarantino has softened his vision since the last film, locating The Bride's act less in unmitigated revenge than in a desire to cleanse herself of her past and begin anew-especially after she learns that her daughter has survived. The emotional power of this ending makes one regret, indeed, that Tarantino hadn't released both films as one, as he reportedly originally intended. Vol. 1, being all setup and anticipation (complete with a genuine cliffhanger of a final line), didn't suffer as greatly from the split; but because Vol. 2 is constantly playing against and off of the emotions established in Vol. 1, it is left somewhat out in the cold. Tarantino's great wager of turning a rather chilly revenge picture into essentially a heartfelt story of a woman and her daughter is to be applauded, but it would have had even more resonance if we could appreciate that astonishing transition in tones in one sitting. The good news is that this past May at Cannes, Tarantino premiered a version of Kill Bill which, it seems, fulfills his original plan: one long film with intermission.

That film may very well be Tarantino's masterpiece.

                                                                © THE FILM JOURNAL 2004