Review of Death Proof

The Director's Self-Indulgence is His Major Weakness. Here He seems to Exploit it or Maybe it just seems that way. It's hard to tell. Could be Self-Parody but is more Likely Self-Importance. But that's OK. Let the Man Go. He is an Unbridled Talent with so much Internal Energy that if not Released could Implode and cause the Atmosphere to Ignite like the Initial Fear of the Atomic-Bomb.

What We have here is a Talk-Fest of the First Order. Talking Trash in an Homage to Trashy Movies might just be some sort of Genius. Or not. It is Masterful Masturbation. Stroking the Thing He likes Best. The Seventies.

Chicks, Babes, and Bimbos coming together to Kick-Ass, take no Prisoners, and show a lot of Skin and Attitude. Throw in some Muscle-Machinery, here read Gear-Head Cars. It's all Revved Up with some Audience Friendly Violence and Chases that are Desperately Needed after those Elongated Girl-Gab Scenes that may have some Males in the Audience forgetting about those Chic-Sal-Val Clothes and T&A and Legs, and Shrieking with Displeasure.

This is Low-Budget Tarantino Slumming when He doesn't have to for the Sheer Pleasure and Fun of it all. He sure Looks like He is having a Blast. Whether You do or Not is Depending.