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Let’s cut to the chase. Quentin Tarantino is a man you either admire for his innate ability to write meaningful, quirky, albeit drawn-out dialogue that can either serve the story magnificently (“Reservoir Dogs” and “Pulp Fiction”) or hate because of his ability to make this dialogue repetitious and too hip for its own good (i.e. this film).

I think most genre buffs are in the know as to how this film came about; two guys with an idea and a love for grindhouse cinema, hence the original theatrical double-bill, “Grindhouse” and, voila, two separate films - Robert Rodriguez’s “Planet Terror” and, of course, Quentin Tarantino’s “Death Proof” - playing back-to-back. The idea was a good one. It’s just too bad that the films did little to complement each other. There was, what I call, “subgenre juxtaposition” going on between the two. Rodriguez’s film was a balls-to-the-wall zombie-infested action/gore flick while Tarantino’s feature was an overly talky, pop-culture referencing pseudo horror film that some argue should have had more focus on blood, guts and atmosphere before it ended up being part of the theatrical double-bill.

That’s not to say there is anything wrong with Tarantino’s film being what it is. Although a bit pretentious, it is, essentially, a true grindhouse film. It’s directed like one, shot like one, and cut like one. That counts for something. My only minor quibble is that Tarantino’s writing is culled straight from his more popular flicks – such as “Pulp Fiction” - and that doesn’t quite gel with the atmosphere he had going at the beginning and middle of the film. Character-wise, strong female leads aren’t a bad thing as many fans have stated. But it’s painfully obvious that Tarantino hasn’t written many. Inane dialogue that goes on for far too long about absolutely nothing just isn’t cutting it.

Otherwise, the film is as close as either of the two features come to being a true experience in ‘70s-era grindhouse cinema. Strangely enough, though, the faux scratches, specks and dirt marks aren’t as prevalent here as they were in Rodriguez’s “Planet Terror,” but it gives one the thought that Tarantino isn’t shoving the idea down our throats. Quentin directs the living hell out the movie (especially Kurt Russell’s scenes, of which I wish there were more) and its various automotive sequences. Perhaps in a more subdued way, "Death Proof" is over the top, GLEEFULLY over the top, and it knows it. Apart from the misplaced dialogue, "Death Proof" truly feels like part of a late night drive-in double feature.

My only complaint here is that Tarantino should have focused his attention more on concocting a film complementary of Rodriguez’s and less on making “just another Quentin Tarantino film.” The two "Grindhouse" features, together, don’t work. At all. Separately, there’s a much better chance they’ll find an audience, just as this one did with me. I’m all for Tarantino’s brand of dialogue-driven movie-making, but I don't think this was the time or the place. Is a gorier, more exciting "Death Proof" the answer? Who knows. As it is, though, there’s still something fascinating about this movie, more so in this unrated extended/International cut. Maybe that's because it IS so different. But in this person’s very humble opinion, it could have been something so much more groundbreaking.

8/10