In the office of The Day Job, I keep a bulletin board on the back of a door. This door is an exit, and the board is a reminder: writing is the key. The good folks pinned to the board remind me of this daily. Who reminds you?
Written and directed by Quentin Tarantino.
My wife is a self-proclaimed post-feminist. This means that she talks about things like “the male gaze” in movies while folding my socks very neatly. She says that Tarantino nails girl-talk, and I believe her. He also subverts genre and creates something new out of what might have been pure exploitation. We move from the celluloid fantasy of girls’ asses swinging to jukebox rhythms to the reality of women who carry guns to avoid being raped while doing laundry late at night to women who are indestructible. Call them death proof. Zoe the cat and her infinite lives. Death Proof, a guy once said, is just the kind of movie you enjoy with friends. As I have no better friend than the woman who folds my socks, what can I say but, “This is true.”
Ladies, that was fun.
“Look, I don’t know what futuristic utopia you live in, but the world I live in, a bitch need a gun.” — Kim