Review #1,437: 'The House That Jack Built' (2018)

Seven years ago, Danish provocateur Lars von Trier found himself banned from the Cannes Film Festival after making a rather ill-timed joke about sympathising with Hitler during a press conference for Melancholia. For a festival that seems to inspire walk-outs and boos from audiences who have apparently never seen a film before, it was never going to be too long until von Trier wriggled his way back in. After all, for a director famous for clitoris-removal and the mocking of disabled people, the lure of free advertising from appalled cinema-goers would surely be too strong to resist. For his return, von Trier brought The House That Jack Built, a two and half hour serial killer movie that often feels like a stand-in for the director's self-satisfied smirk. Not only does the film feature animal cruelty, infanticide and open mocking of the #MeToo movement, but the anti-hero at its centre talks frequently at length about his real obsession. You guessed it: the Third Reich. This is a giant middle-finger to the Cannes board.

Jack (Matt Dillon) is a serial killer who, by the end, boasts more than 60 victims. He mainly kills women, but he also kills men and children if the subject is just right for his unique brand of 'art'. At the start of the film, he discusses his life and the nature of evil with an unseen man, played by Bruno Ganz, who we don't see until the very end. He defends his grisly past-times as artistic expression, claiming that everyone who died at his hands will be forever immortalised in his work. His story is recounted as a series of incidents, the first of which involves Uma Thurman as an impossibly stupid victim stranded by the road-side. Convincing Jack to give her a ride to a nearby garage that can fix her car jack, she almost talks the stranger into killing her, even handing him the murder weapon. When the brutal, sudden murder occurs, we almost feel a sense of relief. You can imagine von Trier stroking his chin and grinning at the thought of us feeling like she deserved it. Over the course of a decade, Jack ponders his favourite kills, taking the occasional detour to discuss architecture, literature and the work of Glenn Gould, and to repeatedly build and knock down his dream house.

For a film that understandably caused outrage at its premiere, The House That Jack Built isn't gory and full of spatter, but that isn't to say the film isn't frequently repugnant. An old lady is strangled to death for comic effect, a duckling has its leg snipped off, and worst of all, a child's corpse is contorted with wires and preserved in Jack's walk-in freezer, positioned in the background of many scenes just in case we happen to forget. Such blatant button-pushing would be forgivable, of even admirable, had this trudging vanity project been remotely convincing. Instead, its two and a half hours that feels two and a half hours, with a miscast Dillon delivering monologues on the beauty of genocide and the evolution of architecture while von Trier plans his next trick to make you feel uncomfortable. The film's best performance is delivered by Riley Keough as a young woman Jack cruelly names Simple. Jack toys with her low self-esteem before dispatching her in a horrendous manner, but there's real humanity lurking in this scene, and a real sense of dread conjured up by von Trier. The whole thing is almost saved by a climactic journey through a Hell seemingly inspired by the covers of death metal albums, which manages to be both truly eerie and cartoonishly comical. But then you remember what you had to get through to get there, and wonder how to get your 150 minutes back.


Directed by: Lars von Trier
Starring: Matt Dillon, Bruno Ganz, Uma Thurman, Siobhan Fallon Hogan, Sofie Gråbøl, Riley Keough, Jeremy Davies
Country: Denmark/France/Germany/Sweden

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #999: 'Kill Bill: Vol. 2' (2004)

While the decision to split Kill Bill, originally intended as a three-hour epic tale of revenge, into two separate movies was greeted by fans with accusations of greed. Whether this is true or whether the full version of Quentin Tarantino's homage to 70's exploitation was simply too much to consume in one sitting, it actually turns out to be a masterstroke. Volumes 1 and 2 incorporate two vastly different styles, both of which allow Tarantino to fully indulge his love for kung-fu movies and spaghetti westerns with ample time and care. These are two different movies, never forgetting that the character linking them together is Uma Thurman's determined The Bride.

Having dispatched O-Ren Ishii (Lucy Liu) and Vernita Green (Vivica A. Fox) in the first film, we first meet The Bride as she drives to her final target - Bill (David Carradine). To even consider this a spoiler would be failing to grasp the movies Tarantino is tipping his hat to, and the director makes a point of this by constantly shifting around the time-line. It's not so much about if she'll achieve her goal, but just how cool it will be when she does. Bill remained off screen for the bulk of Volume 1, seen either stroking his samurai sword and talking menacingly off-camera, but we meet him in his full glory almost instantly in Volume 2, as we are shown an extended version of the events that left The Bride shot in the head and left for dead.

First though, she must face Budd (Michael Madsen) and the one-eyed Elle Driver (Daryl Hannah). Budd is a tough, hard-drinking redneck working as a bouncer when he's not clumsily making margaritas in his trailer, and he is given a generous amount of screen-time and isn't let down by Madsen's gravelly performance. Similar to Tarantino's early films Reservoir Dogs (1992) and Pulp Fiction (1994), Budd's story is given a patient build-up before the burst of inevitable violence, portraying him as a beaten man awaiting his death at the hands of the woman he knows is coming for him. Just when his fate seems sealed, Tarantino slaps us in the face and turns his protagonists fortunes on their head, allowing for some down-time as we flash-back to The Bride's training with the formidable Pai Mei (Gordon Liu).

Pai Mei's chapter is the entire saga's crowning achievement, full of ridiculous crash-zooms and beard stroking that manages to poke fun at the genre, while at the same time warmly embracing and even transcending it. This leads The Bride to her face-off with Elle, which is a scene of such ferocity, humour and sheer bad-assery that it more than makes up for the creeping pace. As Bill, Carradine is a revelation, with Tarantino once again pulling an iconic actor out of obscurity to riff on the type of role they became famous for in the first place to deliver the performance of their career. An early version of the script had The Bride and Bill duelling to a sunset backdrop, but the low-key scrap opted for instead seems more fitting. Towards the climax, it seems that Tarantino is struggling with how to end his epic tale of revenge, but some minor bumps don't derail what is undoubtedly the most Tarantino-y of his catalogue, and certainly his most all-out fun.


Directed by: Quentin Tarantino
Starring: Uma Thurman, David Carradine, Michael Madsen, Daryl Hannah, Gordon Liu, Michael Parks, Lucy Liu, Vivica A. Fox
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #996: 'Kill Bill: Vol. 1' (2003)

Fans of Quentin Tarantino's unique brand of exploitation-cinema-worship were forced to wait six long years for his next movie after his underrated love-letter to blaxploitation, Jackie Brown (1997). The result was intended to be a 3 hour 'roaring rampage of revenge' but instead, thanks to the unenlightened head honchos at Miramax, Kill Bill became Kill Bill: Volume 1, a 110-minute half-movie that forced cinemagoers to pay again to see the following instalment four months later. Despite this money-making scheme that I'm sure Tarantino wanted no part of (he still refers to Kill Bill as one movie), Volume 1 is still quite brilliant.

Taking inspiration from the kung-fu and spaghetti western genre movies Tarantino no doubt indulged in during his time as a video store clerk (although Vol. 1 focuses mainly on the former), Kill Bill is, at times, a montage of shots, scenes and music from other movies from the 1970's. Yet Tarantino doesn't so much simply copy these films but play on our genre expectations while making it fun to test your own knowledge as a cinephile in the process. The tale is one of revenge, and a simple one at that. Tarantino has no qualms in staging Kill Bill as a one-by-one ticking-off of the bastards who wrongs our heroine, known simply as The Bride (Uma Thurman), who even carries a list of her targets and boldly strikes out their names as they fall.

A massacre at a wedding chapel instigated by Bill (David Carradine) and his Deadly Viper Assassination Squad sees everyone inside murdered apart from The Bride, who is shot in the head and put into a coma. Waking up four years later, she quickly sets about gaining her revenge on Bill and his four cronies - Vernita Green (Vivica A. Fox), O-Ren Ishii (Lucy Liu), Budd (Michael Madsen), and the one-eyed Elle Driver (Daryl Hannah). Travelling to Okinawa in Japan, she approaches legendary samurai sword-maker Hattori Hanzo (genre legend Sonny Chiba) and talks him out of her retirement to forge her weapon of death.

Told in chapter form, scenes are either extremely talky or outlandishly action-packed. The quieter moments bristle with Tarantino's now-iconic dialogue, while the extended climax, taking place in a two-floor restaurant that is quickly turned into a blood bath, displays the directors then-unseen eye for action. As The Bride takes on O-Ren's gang (dubbed the Crazy 88) and her Meteor hammer-wielding bodyguard Gogo (Chiaki Kuriyama) she hacks and slices her way through them all in a moment that evokes The Matrix Revolutions of the same year, only with real people and an eye for action cinema. Its all backed by another terrific Tarantino soundtrack that is routinely pillaged by TV shows too lazy to find their own music. The ending leaves you hanging without feeling ripped off, and eager to see the final three names crossed off the list.


Directed by: Quentin Tarantino
Starring: Uma Thurman, Lucy Liu, Vivica A. Fox, Daryl Hannah, David Carradine, Michael Madsen, Sonny Chiba, Julie Dreyfus, Chiaki Kuriyama
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #854: 'Pulp Fiction' (1994)

I remember that back in the mid-90's, when Tarantino-mania was in full swing, the motor-mouthed former video store clerk-turned-auteur was always surrounded by controversy. His two movies, Reservoir Dogs (1992) and Pulp Fiction were portrayed as cruel, violent and sadistic by the media, while movie critics swooned over his pulpy, reference-heavy characters and innovative dialogue. Over 20 years later, Tarantino's films seem laughably mild compared to the casual ultra-violence of most 18-rated movies regularly released today. But while Reservoir Dogs can arguably be dismissed as a marvellously scripted and meticulously acted rip-off of City on Fire (1987), Pulp Fiction seems as fresh as the day it was released.

The black-suited duo of Vincent Vega (John Travolta) and Jules Winfield (Samuel L. Jackson), and the misty-eyed gangster's moll Mia Wallace (Uma Thurman) have been reduced to movie icons, adorning the walls of students and making it easy to forget just how well written they are. Tarantino is fascinated by the humdrum of these casual killers' lives, and their conversations about cheeseburgers, foot-massages and what constitutes a miracle sparkle with invention, intelligence and laugh-out-loud humour. It makes these cartoon characters, who seem they have been ripped straight from the pages of a book found in a dime-store book shop, seem real. Even though they have just shot two unarmed men in cold blood, you would still want to buy them a cup of coffee and pick their brains.

Pulp Fiction, as I'm sure you already know, tells three intertwining stories out of chronological order. After successfully obtaining a briefcase belonging to their boss, hit-man Vincent Vega is given the responsibility of looking after the big man's wife, Mia, for the night. He takes her to a retro diner where they talk pop culture and dance to Chuck Berry, and the night's events then take an unexpected turn. Travolta makes for an astonishingly sweet killer and heroin addict, and this story in particular sizzles with sexy dialogue and real chemistry between Travolta and Thurman. The now-infamous scene of an improvised adrenaline shock still has the power to make you wince, while remaining funny and utterly absurd all at the same time.

The second story, 'The Gold Watch', focuses on ageing boxer Butch (Bruce Willis), who after failing to follow thorough with his role in a thrown boxing match - organised by Vincent's boss Marcellus Wallace (Ving Rhames) - flees to the safety of a hotel room and into the arms of his lover Fabienne (Maria de Medeiros), who he intends on whisking overseas along with his wad of stolen loot. However, upon realising that Fabienne has failed to pack the gold watch handed down to him through many generations and eventually by his father's friend Captain Koons (Christopher Walken), he must return home to reclaim it. The events that transpire are some of the most outlandish work Tarantino has ever done, filled with gunfire, mutilation, rape, and a gimp. Such relentless brutality may have been off-putting, but Tarantino keeps you reassured that it's okay to laugh at what you're seeing, that it's only a movie. It's a textbook lesson in black comedy.

The narrative then jumps back in time to Vincent and Jules in the aftermath of the hit seen at the start of the movie. After an extremely gory accident, they are forced off the road and seek the hospitality of Jimmie (played by Tarantino himself). They hire professional fixer Winston Wolf (Harvey Keitel), who races against the clock to clean up the mess before Jimmie's wife arrives home from a night shift. The film climaxes at the diner shown in the opening scene, as Vincent and Jules's quiet breakfast is interrupted by a husband and wife stick-up team (Tim Roth and Amanda Plummer). The third segment is the funniest and features the most memorable dialogue, as Winston tries to motivate an objectionable Vincent ("pretty please, with a cherry on top, clean the fucking car,"), and Jules educates his new foe's following the life-altering miracle he believes he has just witnessed.

Featuring highly on practically every 'best of' list from 1994 to the present, Pulp Fiction needs no introduction and I doubt it ever will. Though I have enjoyed all of Tarantino's movies with the exception of 2007's tedious Death Proof (though it fares better when viewed in its Grindhouse entirety), I don't rate him as a truly great film-maker, as I don't feel he has ever managed to shake his compulsion to homage.  But Pulp Fiction is undoubtedly a masterpiece, like nothing else made before or since (though many attempts have been made in vain). A thrilling exercise in style and substance, beneficial to cinema as a whole and responsible for re-igniting a few careers on the way. I cannot see Tarantino ever topping his achievements here, but then again his movies never fail to surprise me.


Directed by: Quentin Tarantino
Starring: John Travolta, Samuel L. Jackson, Uma Thurman, Bruce Willis, Harvey Keitel, Tim Roth, Amanda Plummer, Maria De Medeiros, Ving Rhames, Eric Stoltz, Rosanna Arquette
Country: USA

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie