The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015. Remaining movies: 40 Days to go: 30
Movie #400: Kill Bill, Vol. 2
I admit to being slightly disappointed by Kill Bill, Vol. 2 when it first came out. Vol. 1 was so kinetic and alive, bursting with energy, that the much more subdued Vol. 2 came off as almost dull. It felt as if the magic had bled completely away, leaving a far weaker followup than anticipated. However, over the years the two films have been shown back to back pretty often on television, and between that and owning the discs, I’ve rarely watched one without the other. This, it seems, is the key to fully appreciating both films not just as individual pieces but as a complete piece. Filmed as one single project, the decision to split into two films came much later in the process than one would normally expect, and given the naturally speculative tenor of most industry business, it was easy to assume the reasons were simply Tarantino’s inability (or unwillingness) to trim the film into a more contained, palatable piece. But what if the reason for the split was actually to accentuate the change in tone? What if the pace intentionally slowed as the Death List Five got into more tortured territory and the specter of a still-living baby (unknown to Uma Thurman’s Black Mamba) hovered over the proceedings?
One indication that this might, in fact, be the case, is the abandonment of a non-linear structure. Vol. 1 doesn’t occur chronologically. It starts at the inciting incident, moves ahead to #2 on Black Mamba’s list (Vernita Green, played by Vivica A. Fox), goes back to when she was in the hospital and how she got out, inserts an animated biography of O-ren Ishii (Lucy Liu), then returns to Black Mamba escaping the hospital parking lot in the Pussy Wagon and moves forward from there, going to Okinawa for her samurai sword and then to Tokyo to kill O-ren, which more or less closes the film.
Vol. 2, however, is almost entirely chronological, only in flashback. It starts off with Beatrix (Black Mamba’s real name) driving to her final destination — to finally have it out with Bill (David Carradine). She then recounts the tale starting with the Massacre at Two Pines that started it all and moving forward past the events of Vol. 1 to the whereabouts of Budd (Michael Madsen) and her eventual encounter with him. This tale features another flashback (within this original, larger flashback), but only as it relates to the situation she finds herself in. Then there’s the arrival of Elle (Daryl Hannah), followed by Elle’s own version of vengeance before being immediately humiliated herself. And then Beatrix meets up with Esteban (Michael Parks) to get Bill’s location, bringing us all the way to where we met her at the beginning of the film, at which point it carries forward through her battle with him and her reunion with her daughter. It’s very deliberate and straightforward, never veering back or coming from another angle, as if the events of Vol. 1 had a distance to them, and could therefore be told with immediacy and in a thrilling manner, but the events of Vol. 2 were still unfolding as we were discovering them, allowing little time for embellishments, just the opportunity to tell things as they happened.
Another way the films differ is in their stylistic influences. Much of Vol. 1 carries the torch for Japanese film and culture, whereas an entire chapter of Vol. 2 is reminiscent of one of those old Chinese Kung Fu movies my stepfather liked to watch when I was a kid. (Indeed it is that sequence, occurring as part of that flashback within a flashback, that has clearly been pondered and mused about before, making it the most stylized section of the film — it has more distance to it.) And the parts that aren’t reminiscent of Chinese film influences bear a striking resemblance to Westerns, with buck shot and dusty graves and double-crosses. Budd even wears a ten-gallon hat. These two styles go together surprisingly well, but would undoubtedly clash against the glossy sheen of Vernita’s picture perfect existence or O-ren’s costumed gangsters. That clash might feel muddled in a single film, but in two separate films it feels purposeful and important.
The fights this time around are similarly important, because, in actuality, Beatrix doesn’t kill either Budd or Elle. Elle is furious with Budd for burying Beatrix alive (once again, she doesn’t necessarily run over her foes — Budd gets the drop on her but good), considering it an undeservedly ignoble end for such a talented warrior. Elle might hate Beatrix, but she knows a good assassin when she sees one, and a screw-up like Budd has no right to kill a force like Beatrix. So Elle kills Budd to get him back. And then Beatrix returns, and she and Elle have an amazing battle, both hampered and enhanced by the close quarters of Budd’s trailer. Then, as they lock swords and Beatrix is face to face with the former partner she hated the most, she pulls out Elle’s other eye and leaves her flailing in the ruins of what used to be Budd’s bathroom. With a Black Mamba loose in the other room. It’s not a coup de grace, but then again, Beatrix doesn’t care enough about Elle to kill her outright, and that’s a major distinction. It’s much more satisfying to wreak revenge by leaving Elle hobbled and exposed, at the mercy of whatever may befall her. It gives her the exact ignoble end Elle so hated Beatrix to have, which speaks volumes of their rivalry.
Then there’s also the matter of the almost loving, friendly encounter she has with Bill when she discovers their daughter is still alive. She listens sweetly, soaking in every ounce of her daughter’s history as she possibly can, but it doesn’t change her resolve. She loves Bill, has always loved Bill, but what he did to her was unforgivable and he must pay the price for it. She tells him the story of the day she discovered she was pregnant — the day she disappeared — and how that knowledge changed her entire outlook. Some may call this out of character for a killer like Beatrix, but I think it speaks more of her character. The women in Kill Bill are not all the same, even though they are all assassins (even the rival gang’s assassin who comes to kill Beatrix is a woman). They share the same occupation, but they make different choices and lead different lives and have different priorities, just as six different women working at the same office would, just as six different attorneys would, just as six different mechanics would. Just as any six different people would.
That insistence on individuality in their characters makes Beatrix’s choices truly her own and therefore more relatable as plausible and valid reactions to the situation she found herself in. The key to drawing fully realized women characters is not to steer away from every available female stereotype, but rather to make sure the choices each woman makes are her choices for her reasons. Both Kill Bill films do that exceptionally well.
Viable Option 