Kill Bill Vol. 1

The struggle between genius action moviemakers and jaded pretentious audiences has forever been a struggle between offensive and defensive capabilities: The barriers moviegoers erect against the frisson of a fine action extravagaza ("But what about characters?" or "It's just too fast and noisy") are continually assaulted by auteurs imprinting new and audacious kinetic and charismatic styles on celluloid to overcome the carping of the plot-and-nuance crowd.

In theory, anyway. In practice, we get Andrezj Bartkowiak and Dominic Sena as helmsmen of explosions and beatdowns, and cineastes rightly turn up their noses. But comes now the ultimate expression of style over any sort of substance: "Kill Bill Vol. 1," which as the credits note is "The Fourth Film By Quentin Tarantino."

On the one hand, writer/director Tarantino has had to split what was a three-hour ass-kicking festival into two "volumes," and the first part has been left with exposition so paltry calling it "skeletal" would be doing it a favor. On the other hand, with no exposition, we get pretty much ninety solid minutes of the most imaginative action filmmaking to come down the pike in a long time. The result? Drop what you're doing: Quentin's back.

You may also want to hire a babysitter for the youngsters. This is a tremendously violent film, which suits its premise, which near as can be divined is that Uma Thurman used to be a member of the Deadly Viper Assassination Squad, under the code name "Black Mamba," before Bill, leader of said squad, and her fellow assassins killed her on their wedding day. Or, at any rate, left her for dead; she actually slipped into a four-year coma, which she woke up from with the desire to kill Bill, and all her fellow assassins. Understandable, especially considering she had been pregnant at the time of the attack. Thus, the Black Mamba spends most of her time setting her jaw and letting rage run through her eyes before she runs through people with a samurai sword; Vivica A. Fox and Lucy Liu, former co-workers, try to stop her in the latter endeavor.

Do we learn why the attack was ordered, or what Uma Thurman was doing in the Deadly Viper Assassination Squad (besides deadly viper assassinations), or why she knows her Japanese steel so well, or her character's actual name, or really much of anything about what's going on? No. We will have to wait until "Kill Bill Vol. 2" comes out in February for such information. What we do learn is that Quentin Tarantino can direct one hell of an action film. Unlike the two faux auteurs mentioned above, he minds his technical p's and q's, framing and blocking his shots to ensure that we understand exactly how Thurman is dealing death upon those who have wronged her; a scene in which the Black Mamba eviscerates about forty samurai is remarkable for its coherence as much as its violence. And it will come as no surprise to anyone who saw "Pulp Fiction" (i.e., everyone) that he milks the most searing tension possible from his pauses before, during and after the storms. (There ain't a lot of Tarantino dialogue here, but what's here is gold; the Black Mamba tells one witness, "When you grow up, if you still feel raw, I'll be waiting," a phrasing imaginative and hard-boiled at once.)

But what's most impressive is the style Tarantino develops and deploys, colorful and referential and riotous and hyperbolic. In pursuit of arresting imagery, Tarantino pulls motifs from 70s action films, Westerns, even children's sugar cereals, and charges them all with new energy and new depth. The last hour or so of this film takes place in Japan, and here Tarantino pulls out all the stops: the backstory to O-Ren Ishii (Liu) is told in quite effective anime, the geysers of blood coming from the stumps of the easily severed limbs so common to samurai films are all lovingly recreated, and Japanese stereotypes are quickly sketched and then twisted into something fresh. Every moment is an excuse to try something new, and through his utter conviction Tarantino makes it all work.

Through it all stalks Thurman, and she works well as a unifying force, deadly blue eyes and flippantly blond hair (she's referred to at one point as "yellow-haired warrior") marking her as both different and dangerous. She's also moving well, having apparently studied hard at Hollywood Martial Arts Academy, and lookin' reeeeal good. Moviegoers attracted to women were missing that last one. Liu delivers the best line of the film with gleeful bite (you'll know it when you hear it) and also acquits herself well in the fight scenes, not to mention the lookin'-good department. Thurman vs. Liu: Blockbuster, baby!

Those fight scenes are one example of how Tarantino works well with his limitations, in that the fights are choreographed by Yuen Wo-Ping, of "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon" and "The Matrix" fame. It seems redundant when Yuen's name is mentioned to further comment that these are some amazingly energetic and convincing fights. And though the movie is chock-full of typically intriguing Tarantino soundtrack selections, Wu-Tang Clan founder RZA's score, full of hair-raising klaxons, bold brass hits and dirty but contained drums, will probably sell nearly as many CDs as the movie sells tickets.

So what do you need a plot for? Okay, it will be nice to find out in "Vol. 2" exactly what all this is about; the film as such isn't as memorable as the images, and for more durability characterization is recommended. But what happened will make a fine substitute for why it happened when what happened is this awesome. At least until February.

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