News Section Editor Zaynab Khuder presents another exciting pop-culture analysis as she analyses the violent desires of women in Tarantino’s film.
Quentin Tarantino’s Death Proof (2007) has garnered an infamous reputation for being Tarantino’s worst film and to that, I whole-heartedly disagree. It’s very easy for the avid film watcher or typical Tarantino fan to write this movie off as bad, or lacking in comparison to his other, more popularised films: Reservoir Dogs (1992), Pulp Fiction (1994) or Kill Bill (2003). However, like most of his filmography, Death Proof is a love letter to cinema. It’s inspired by the classic slasher film and pays homage to the exploitation films that circulated the genre of low-budget B-movies in the 70’s. Exploitation films were made to stimulate reactions; to indulge in the taboo and collate the themes of sexual violence, gore, nudity, drugs, and sensational violence. They were a product of their time, a mirror into the darkest shadows of society as America became rampant with violence, racial injustice, and the consequences of the Vietnam War.
Heavily inspired by the subgenres of exploitation film, specifically sexploitation and carsploitation, Death Proof holds the essence of classic, blood-soaked slasher films by serving us Kurt Russell as Stuntman Mike as he cruises the streets in his death-proof car, targeting and waiting to kill unsuspecting women. And by far, my favourite aspect of this narrative is its tonal shift towards the end where a second group of unsuspecting women, played by Tracie Thoms, Zoë Bell, Rosario Dawson and Mary Elizabeth Winstead, become the core of Stuntman Mike’s sick game. However, it doesn’t play out like the first, gore-fueled car crash where unsuspecting victims played by Sydney Tamiia Poitier, Vanessa Ferlito and Jordan Ladd meet an untimely and violent death. Instead, in a very cathartic turn of events, the role of the pursuer is not in Stuntman Mike’s favour, but in the vengeful, angry palms of Kim (Tracie Thoms), Zoë (Zoë Bell) and Abernathy (Rosario Dawson). It's a gratifyingly violent enactment of satiating, well-deserved revenge.
What separates Death Proof from the usual female-centred revenge films is the emphasis on empowerment through vengeance without the inclusion of lacklustre endings, where we are forced to bask in the knowledge that revenge comes at the cost of the woman’s autonomy. No, because Death Proof lets us cheer on Kim, Zoë and Abernathy in their pursuit of Stuntman Mike and laugh as he finally receives a well-earned, ass-kicking without having to be brutalised through sexual violence and nudity. Death Proof lets the women win, it produces a red-hot opportunity to give men a taste of their own medicine; served with a side of ruthless violence and bloodied gore.
And yes, the women are attractive, but they are also more than that. They are nuanced through dialogue and personality, which is a direct reflection of Tarantino’s ability to compose well-written female characters that are beyond the stereotypical character type of women in sexploitation films.
With the intense car crashes, gorey dismembered limbs, sexually charged chemistry and lengthy lap dance scenes — the staples of exploitation and grindhouse cinema, Death Proof remains equally a perfectly curated homage to 70’s B-movies, while also satiating us with the violent need for female vengeance.
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