The first half is agonizing, and so when the film shifts into sick stunts mode it’s like inhaling nitrous oxide. That’s what makes Death Proof so special to me: It peels back a layer of normalcy to reveal the violent, evil potential of a machine we see every day. A car crash is a mundane but awfully violent way to die. I love the sick horror of realizing that Pam is locked in a murderer’s car, and is going to die as quickly or as slowly as Mike wants. I like the girls’ night out in Austin, Texas: the lived-in feeling of their local bar, the safety of a familiar place and familiar faces, and way Stuntman Mike creeps into this space like mold. Still, I have a fondness for the first half. My best friend had to leave before Death Proof made its second-act turn, and as a result he grit his teeth through an hour of idle chatter punctuated with women being brutalized, and had nothing to show for it. The worst thing I’ve ever done is hold a double feature party showing Planet Terror and Death Proof. But the second half of the movie is a cathartic reversal. The film has a lolling beginning, twists the screw until the tension is unbearable, and ends in bloody, inevitable disaster. It was released as a double feature with Robert Rodriguez’s Planet Terror, and I remember being personally offended when both films flopped in theaters (I was 15). Death Proofĭeath Proof follows two groups of women trying to have a good time, and the awful man who gets off on killing them. Zoë Bell, Tracie Thoms, Rosario Dawson, and Mary Elizabeth Winstead go for a drive in Death Proof.
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