Tarantino's half of the Grindhouse double was meant to play for shocks. Another one of his excursions into exploitation cinema, Death Proof, was made to be a visceral, shameless, celebration of our fascination murder. The plot is basic, an ex-stuntman, the glorious Kurt Russell, stalks young girls and murders them with his virtually indestructible car. It was always going to be graphic, thats not to say we didnt come away a little scarred by the infamous crash scene in which Russell ploughs his car straight through another full of girls catapulting one of them through the window and out onto the tarmac, tearing anothers leg clean off and putting a tire through a third girls face and all in slow motion. All of this is done by showing the crash three times, focusing in on the fate of each girl, ensuring that you don't have to fill in the blanks yourself. Eek.
