I saw the latest Tarantino movie last night, Death Proof. It’s a fun film. If you like Tarantino, you’ll like it, if you don’t you won’t. It looks fantastic. It’s slow, so I settled down and sat back to enjoy it, only for it to suddenly shock me with its brutality. It’s full of the usual Tarantino dialogue.
This is my favourite bit:
Lee: You carry a gun?
Kim: Uh-Huh.
Lee: Do you have a license to carry it?
Kim: Yeah, when I became a secret service agent, they gave me a license.
Lee: Oh, I didn’t know you were… Ok. I didn’t say it. Stop looking at me. I didn’t say it. God! Did you know Kim carried a gun?
Abernathy: Yes. Yeah. Do I approve? No. Do I know? Yes.
Kim: I don’t know what futuristic utopia you live in, but in the world I live in, a bitch need a gun.
Abernathy: You can’t get around the fact that people who carry guns, tend to get shot more than people who don’t.
Kim: And you can’t get around the fact that if I go down to the laundry room in my building at midnight enough times, I might get my ass raped!
Lee: Don’t do your laundry at midnight.
Kim: Fuck that! I wanna do my laundry whenever the fuck I want to do my laundry.
Abernathy: There are other things you can carry other then a gun. Pepper spray.
Kim: Uh, muthafucka tryin to rape me, I don’t want to give him a skin rash. I wanna shot that nigga down!
Abernathy: How about a knife at least.
Kim: Yeah, you know what happens to muthafuckas who carry knives. They get shot! Look, if I ever become a famous actress, I won’t carry a gun. I’ll hire me a dude dirt nigga and he’ll carry the gun, and when shit goes down, I’ll sit back and laugh, but until that day, it’s wild west muthafucka!
(It’s part of a double bill called Grindhouse in the USA but was released on its own as Death Proof in the UK.)