It's basically a hodgepodge of movie influences, but with a movie freak like Tarantino it doesn't get much more personal than that. And yet Tarantino has allegedly described KILL BILL as not from his own personal "universe." He says it's a movie that someone in his universe (Steve Buscemi's Mr. Pink, let's say) might see and enjoy. That makes it a movie inside a movie, which is why it's a little more fantastic.

The counter-judgement is that KILL BILL is far too threadbare and under-developed to qualify as a good film. Told in five labeled chapters, beginning with "The Blood-Spattered Bride" and ending with "Showdown at the House of Blue Leaves," BILL is about a hottie ("the Bride," played with great pizazz by Uma Thurman) looking to settle a score. That's it -- that's all it is. She's been in a coma for four years following her near-murder during her wedding in El; Paso, Texas, at the hands of the mostly all-girl Deadly Viper Assassination Squad. The movie begins as she comes out of the coma and heads out into the world, nostrils flaring and loaded for bear.

Tarantino can't be bothered to explain why she was "hit" in the first place. (That'll come in the next installment. You can also read the back story in the Miramax press kit.) Nor does Tarantino tell us anything about who Thurman's character really is deep-down, except that she was pregnant when she was shot and left for dead. BILL even comes up short in terms of glib Tarantino-styled dialogue, which feels like a let-down at first.

In ways that I'm struggling to understand and make clear to myself as well as the readers of this column, KILL BILL works despite these shortcomings. It's one extremely arch, super-stylized film-geek thrill after another, but delivered with such audacity and confidence that it carries you along and leaves you breathless at the finish. Breathless and a little baffled, I should say. "What just happened?," I said to a friend after it ended. "I liked it but I shouldn't have. It did everything I usually hate."

KILL BILL is much better and swankier than anything Sonny Chiba ever starred in -- it's in a whole 'nother realm. It's a tribute to '70s Asian grindhouse pics in the way Jim Cameron's TITANIC was a tribute to the 1953 Clifton Webb-Barbara Stanwyck film of the same name. It's a higher-synthesis thing.

This "4th film by Quentin Tarantino" (actually his fourth and a quarter, if you count his segment in FOUR ROOMS) is the 96-minute first half of what was originally intended as a single movie. (BILL actually runs 110 minutes but 14 or 15 minutes are taken up by credits.) VOLUME 2 will open on Febuary 20, 2004.

A friend insists if the fat were cut out of both BILL's (assuming there's as much directorial "indulgence" in the next installment as there is in VOLUME ONE) that a great two-hour and-20-minute single film could have emerged. Maybe, but I revelled in the "fat" of VOLUME ONE. For me, it all added up to a totally assured and high-powered ride with a first-rate filmmaker in a 2004 Porsche Cayenne -- fresh out of the showroom, air-conditioned, and with a cool tune (Nancy Sinatra's "Bang Bang," which I never listened to before but can't get out of my head as I write this) playing on a killer sound system.

The attitude in this film is one of complete and total divorcement from reality. It's 150% into style -- not a single frame has the slightest bearing on your life outside the theatre doors. On one level I feel badly about praising KILL BILL because it's going to set back the cause of realism and true-grit in Hollywood action movies. It's going to make it that much harder now for an action movie director to weave in elements of real people living real lives on the planet earth. Don't think I don't feel conflicted over this.

Does it do what a good movie should? No...and that's the confusion with this thing. On one level it's junk and on another level it's great. All I can figure is that Miramax gave Tarantino so much leeway to do whatever he wanted with this thing, and it's so completely "him"all the way through, that KILL BILL is some kind of bizarre landmark in the annals of personal cinema. You almost feel as if Tarantino is literally sitting next to you as you watch it, and that he trusts you'll get each and every filmic reference (of which there are several dozen, and perhaps hundreds). Even if you don't know Sonny Chiba from Chou en Lai, it makes you feel hip and in on the whole aesthetic.

This is why it's going to be a hit, and not just with the fan boys. Dave Poland is dreaming when he says New Line's TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE sequel is going to wipe the floor with KILL BILL. Quentin understands how to reach people who pay for tickets. He doesn't talk down to people -- he invites them into his world and makes them feel charmed and cool and turned-on during the visit.

I never thought I'd have such a good time just watching Yeung Wo Ping's martial-arts choreography, but I did because KILL BILL teems in part with the spirit of Japanese porno-violence director Takashi Miike (blood doesn't seep out of wounds in this film -- it gushes like it's been shot out of a fire hose) and because it's so seductively gold-standard. At some point I said to myself, "I get it...this is why Tarantino enjoyed all those Sony Chiba flicks so much...they made him feel the way this film is making me feel now."

Here's another way to look at it. I went to an L.A. Press Club party Monday night for Virginia Postrel and her new book, THE SUBSTANCE OF STYLE. It's basically about how style and aesthetics have become vital factors in our culture and prime components in our sense of identity. In an interview on her "blog" (a personal website with any kind of punch or intellectual presence), she explains there are three sources of value in any designed object: function, meaning, and pleasure.

KILL BILL is a designed object. It barely functions as a movie, or at least the kind of thing I would normally want to see or look forward to. I don't know what the meaning of it is, except that sometimes it's better to let a talented filmmaker do exactly what he wants to do than ride his back and try to keep him in check. (Unless you're dealing with a Michael Cimino on HEAVEN'S GATE, in which case he should be anesthetized and then killed.) What I'm absolutely certain of is that KILL BILL delivers loads of aesthetic pleasure. It may be bad for us in the long run, but I can't pan it. It's too much fun and I don't mean the stupid kind.

One of the biggest BILL thrills is a longish anime sequence that tells the back-story of how Lucy Liu's O-Ren Ishii character was traumatized and toughened by tragedy. It was produced by Japan's Production I.G. (GHOST IN THE SHELL), and is worth the ticket price in itself. Robert Richardson's photography, which hits its peak during the "Blue Leaves" sequence, and Sally Menke's editing are two more. And the sound effects by David Young and John Bires are riveting.

I know this for sure: the "House of Blue Leaves" swordfight sequence, which pits Uma up against 40 or 50 guys inside a Japanese restaurant, completely whups the Wachowski's "burly brawl" sequence in THE MATRIX RELOADED.

The more I watched the "burly brawl"(i.e., Keanu's Neo up duking it out with 100 or so Agent Smith clones), the less I liked it. Bip-bop-bip...Smiths going down and popping up again....who the fuck cares? I felt totally different about Uma's slice-and-dice. Every move she makes, every limb she severs comes across with Joffrey Ballet expertise. Forgive me, but it's as least as good as anything Gene Kelly ever did on an MGM sound stage in the 1950s, if not better. Eat your heart out, Larry and Andy!

For me, the niftiest stand-out performance is from young Japanese actress Chiaki Kuriyama, who plays "Go Go Yubari,"one of O-Ren Ishii's top bodyguards. The press kit says she's a big thing in Japan -- one of her hit TV series was titled MULTIPLE PERSONALITY DETECTIVE PSYCHO. I also dug the slightly older, no-less-sexy Julie Dreyfuss as "Sofie Fatale."

Disemboweling a bad guy can be transcendent art! Isn't the color of arterial blood cool? Especially when it spurts all over everyone and everything within a five-foot range? When an action flick seems to embody this attitude, 97% of the time it's because the director couldn't figure out how to make the picture work any other way. But with KILL BILL, it's a different story.

Why? Because it does the style-as-substance routine five times better than we're used to seeing. This may not be a "good" thing by your father's or Dave Poland's standards, but it may be the greatest pure-geek, flash-and-slash, Japanese junk-food movie ever made.

Big Guys Win

The MPAA's just-about-ratified decision to ban the mailing of DVD screeners to Academy members has made a lot of people in the independent film community extremely pissed. It's easy to see why. With DVDs of potential Oscar-level movies not being sent to Academy members' homes, several smaller-type films with a shot are now much less likely to be seen (Academy types are notoriously lazy) or nominated.

And that means less money for these people and their companies. Smaller-budgeted films without big stars always benefit hugely at the box office from Academy nominations and wins, and now they're not as likely to.

This also means that next January's Oscar nomnees are probably going to be plucked more from the big-studio movies (THE ALAMO, RETURN OF THE KING, MONA LISA SMILE, THE LAST SAMURAI) and less so from the modestly-profiled, indie-flavored films like Focus Features' 21 GRAMS, DreamWorks' HOUSE OF SAND AND FOG, and Fox Searchlight's THIRTEEN and IN AMERICA.

Focus Feature's THE PIANIST probably wouldn't have won for Best Director (Roman Polanski), Best Original Screenplay and Best Actor (Adrien Brody) without that World War II-era film being seen by Academy members on the TV screens. I have no way of calculating this and this is just my gut talking, but without screeners CHICAGO probably would have swept the field last year, I'll bet.

"It's a sad day in Mudville," one indie executive told SCREEN DAILY. Another was more accusatory: "This has been a big conspiracy to make sure that the specialty companies don't participate in the Academy Awards. There will be no Pedro Almodovar winning best screenplay, because he won't have a chance."

A publicist who works on award campaigns said, "It's the CEOs who are making this decision, and they're not awards people." Another awards strategist claimed that given the shorter awards season, it's going to be near-impossible to catch every contender at a screening: 'This year there's a shorter time to see the films, and I guarantee a lot of these films are not going to be viewed.'"

All the big studios and their indie divisions -- Fox Searchlight, Sony Classics, Univeral's Focus Features -- have agreed to the ban. Miramax's Harvey Weinstein has reportedly agreed to the proposal, although I was told his company isn't necessarily obliged to go along with Disney on this thing, especially since they're looking to break free and find another berth. DreamWorks, a non-signator of the MPAA, has also agreed. But the so-called "true indies" -- Thinkfilm, Artisan, Lions Gate, Newmarket, Palm Pictures, Magnolia, etc. -- are not obliged to follow suit, and may not in some instances.

This means that screeners of Newmarket's WHALE RIDER -- a prime Oscar contender due to Keisha Castle Hughes' awesome performance, not to mention Niki Caro's outstanding directon and screenplay -- may get sent out regardless.

Stephen Frear's DIRTY PRETTY THINGS, easily one of the year's best films so far but unfortunately a Miramax release, probably wouldn't be in the game anyway because it's essentially IFP Spirit Awards material, but it's really out the game now. Fine Line's ELEPHANT, winner of the Palme d'Or at the Cannes Film Festival, might have slipped through with a nomination or two, but that's a lot less likely now.

All in the Vibe

Tommy Hicks' moment of glory and possible redemption may be brief, but it's being broadcast nationwide tonight (Wednesday, 10.1) at 9 pm on PBS. It's a film by Charles Burnett called WARMING BY THE DEVIL'S FIRE. Hicks plays a blues-loving ne'er-do-well named Uncle Buddy who exposes his visiting 12 year- old nephew to the more instinctual side of life. By the time the film's over a lot more people will be on to the charm and likability of this actor. Or they ought to be, anyway.

DEVIL'S FIRE is the third film to be shown in the 12-part PBS series called THE BLUES, which was exec produced by Martin Scorsese. In a piece last Friday about the series, the NEW YORK TIMES' Elvis Mitchell called Hicks' performance "powerful." And I've never known Elvis to be careless about adjectives.

Performances are a matter of talent, choices, training and guidance, but for me Hicks has always been a guy with a congenial inner quality. A soothing, glider-plane, we-be-cool attitude that seems to touch whatever and whomever he plays. I picked up on this when I first saw him 20 years ago in Spike Lee's JOE'S BED-STUY BARBERSHOP: WE CUT HEADS ('83) and then three years later in SHE'S GOTTA HAVE IT. The man with a smile, sincerity, and a comforting tone of voice.

I've been acquainted with this quality personally because Tommy's been a friend since '87 or thereabouts. That's right -- this is not an objectively-written piece of journalism.

But I've learned in my 20 years of penal servitude in this town that if an actor is warm and likable in person this same quality tends to come through on-screen. Los Angeles actors are like ice-cream flavors -- they're not about spirit gum and fake beards and reciting passages from "King Lear." If I were a casting director and I wanted that certain warmth or settled quality I've described to show up in a character, I wouldn't hesitate to...aww, what do I know? I'm just a guy with a column.

Burnett is obviously a Hicks fan. He's used him in four of his films (the current one, '03's NAT TURNER: A TROUBLESOME PROPERTY, '99's THE ANNIHILATION OF FISH, and '94's THE GLASS SHIELD). Hicks is "big of spirit and can play good to bad," says the soft-spoken 49 year-old director. Hicks' Uncle Buddy "is a bit ambiguous, in a way," he says. "His character is questionable. There's an element of corruption ih him...[but] he's man who loves living."

That about sums up Tommy. We all go through hard knocks and fallow periods, but the true measure of a man is how steady his smile and spirit are even when things are down. I wish I had more of what he has. I wish there was more of it in the world.

Taste of a Red Apple

When Uma Thurman is striding through Tokyo airport in KILL BILL, we're given a glimpse of a billboard selling Red Apple cigarettes. When I saw it, it was like seeing an old friend again. If you're a Quentin Tarantino fan, you know that Red Apples don't exist in real life -- they're smoked only by characters in Quentin's films. And I've been writing about Red Apples since Bruce Willis first bought a pack in PULP FICTION. ("Filters?" the bartender asks. "Nah," Willis replies.)

I wrote a piece for my L.A. Times Syndicate column about Red Apples when I saw a pack on the dashboard of the car driven by George Clooney and Quentin Tarantino in FROM DUSK TO DAWN.

I wrote another piece about them for ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY when I noticed an ad for Red Apples in ROMY AND MICHELLE'S HIGH-SCHOOL REUNION ('97). (Quentin had nothing to do with it creatively, but he was going out with star Mira Sorvino at the time.)

And in FOUR ROOMS ('95), bellboy Tim Roth has a half-smoked pack of Red Apple's lying on a shelf in his room.

You may also remember that other commercial staple of the Tarantino universe -- the Big Kahuna burger.

Everyone remembers their worldwide debut in PULP FICTION. When John Travolta and Samuel L. Jackson pay an early-morning call to a drug dealer's pad, there's a half-eaten bag of B.K. burgers, fries and drinks on a table. ("That's that Hawaiian burger joint, right?" Jackson says. "I hear they've got some tasty burgers!"

In the final FOUR ROOMS segment (which Tarantino directed), Jennifer Beals is seen sipping from a violet-colored soft-drink cup with a B.K. burger logo on it. In Tony Scott's TRUE ROMANCE, which was based on a Tarantino script, Clarence (Christian Slater) eats a Big Kahuna Burger after he kills Drexl (Gary Oldman). Clooney and Tarantino are eating takeout in a ratty Texas motel in FROM DUSK TO DAWN, and guess what the bag says?

The Big Kahuna Burger and Red Apple labels and ad design were done by Jerry Martinez, an old Tarantino buddy and current vp marketing for Rolling Thunder films, and a guy named Chris Cullen. Martinez is also an author of a book about '70s blaxploitation films titled "What It Is -- What It Was: The Black Film Explosion of the '70s in Words and Pictures."

Big Kahuna Burgers don't appear in either installment of KILL BILL. Martinez says "there wasn't any room" for them in any of the film's scenes. Whoa...are we talking the last Big Kahuna sunset? Years ago I asked Bob Weinstein why someone doesn't start an actual Big Kahuna burger franchise and sell those tasty fuckers to real customers. "That's an idea," said Weinstein. Pffft...nothing.

Martinez says new products have been designed for KILL BILL, including Tenku Super Premium beer.

Dancing Around It

"Before there was Mel, there was Garth," wrote Daniel Watkins in a piece that ran in last Monday's NEW YORK TIMES. The subject was two Jesus movies -- one high-profile, one not -- and which is more incendiary on the topic of Jewish deicide.

Watkins' basic point seems to be that THE GOSPEL OF JOHN, a three-hour drama based on the New Testament account of Christ's life by the apostle John that was produced by Garth Drabinsky, directed by Phillip Saville and shown at last month's Toronto Film Festival, is as forceful in blaming the Jews for Christ's death as Mel Gibson's THE PASSION is alleged to be.

Except Watkins never quite says this. He's apparently seen THE GOSPEL OF JOHN, but is reluctant to report its content. Instead, he discusses the Gospel of St. John and quotes two Biblical scholars about its content regarding the Jew-blaming. He also includes a second-hand opinion about the Drabinksy-Saville film from Rabbi Eugene Korn, director of interfaith affairs for the Anti-Defamation League and a critic of the Gibson movie.

Korn tells Watkins that that THE GOSPEL OF JOHN is a "responsible" treatment of the text. He adds that it's "difficult" for a Jewish viewer, and that "some of it is offensive, but that's the Gospel of John." Softball!

Watkins also quotes Saville about the film ("Every single word [from the Gospel of John] is in there"). He also notes that Drabinsky and others on the team have taken steps to avoid igniting controversy. One has been to including a prologue about the social and political factors in play when John's account was written. The suggestion is that John may have been a bit of a narrow-minded hothead, and that his Gospel perhaps doesn't present the complete truth.

It's time to come up for air. Watkins' piece dances away from saying what is obvious to anyone who's seen THE GOSPEL OF JOHN, as I did at in Toronto. The film nails the Jews as hard as they can be nailed for desiring and demanding Christ's death.

THE GOSPEL OF JOHN was funded by an ultra-right evangelical group called the Visual Bible International Corporation, which publishes the Good News Bible.

As I said in this column on September 19th, "Whatever dramatic strategies Gibson may use in THE PASSION to make his point (or the Gospels' point, as Gibson claims to be only channeling the Gospel accounts, along with Anne Catherine Emmerich's impressionistic 19th Century re-telling of Christ's last day on earth called 'The Dolorous Passion of Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ') about Jewish complicity in Christ's death, it's difficult to imagine him making this point any more strongly than THE GOSPEL OF JOHN does."

I also stated in my piece that THE GOSPEL OF JOHN, which was adapted by screenwriter John Goldsmith, "doesn't say that the Jews were partly to blame for Christ's crucifixion, along with the Roman authorities wanting to make an example of an alleged insurrectionist. It doesn't say the Jews were largely to blame. It says the Jews felt threatened or offended by Jesus's know-God- through-me proclamations, and were entirely to blame."

There's are reasons, of course, why the Drabinsky-Saville film hasn't drawn the wrath of the anti-Gibson, anti-PASSION sharpshooters.

One is because few people have seen it. (It opened in four cities last weekend, but will not, according to Watkins' article, play in New York or Los Angeles.)

Another is because the NEW YORK TIMES, obviously in a sensitive position on this issue, doesn't want its writers to say or report the obvious, preferring as always to modify the apparent point of their articles in shaded gray-lady prose and generally avoid calling a spade a spade.

A third reason is that THE GOSPEL OF JOHN wasn't directed by a big Oscar-winning movie star with a hair-trigger temperament and a thing about wanting to confront and maybe even slap down the liberal east-coast Jewish media Biblical scholar set, and so nobody cares that much. Christian-funded? Not playing in New York or Los Angeles? Doesn't matter that much.

Those WGA Billboards

"While I think the new Writer's Guild ads are meant well, I've to to wonder if they're really helping advance the cause of writers. Why are the names of the writers not on the ads? Everyone knows these lines, sure, but no one (outside of LA and maybe NY) knows what Steven Bochco or Billy Wilder or Paddy Chayefsky look like. So basically people are left wondering 'Who wrote that,' not 'Oh, now I need to see more William Goldman movies.' Not to mention (at least in the ads I have seen) that movies are not written by anything other than old white men. Any thoughts on this?" -- Ethan Stone

Wells to Stone: Yeah, you're right. The names should be on the billboards. Do I think some younger, non-white, non-male writers should be saluted also? Yeah, they should.