The Naked Island

Essentially Kaneto Shindo's The Naked Island (1960) is a simple film. It depicts the hardships of a family living on a small and isolated island. The parents spend their daily routine maintaining their crops and the most time-consuming task for them is to fetch water from a long distance twice a day. They have two boys: one of them goes to school and the younger one spends his days on the island.

At first the film introduces us to the family's daily routine and despite its simplicity Shindo manages to make it very fascinating. In a single brilliant scene (with a magnificent, long buildup) he establishes the family dynamics. The film moves onto show how the family manages to survive through each season until the first "traditional" conflict is introduced in the final third of the film. Even then the film is more like a slice of life of the family's life instead of a dramatic narrative we so often see in other films.

What is so brilliant about the film's approach is the silence Shindo employs. Not a word is spoken apart from short bits of singing and chanting. Music is occasionally inserted, but even that is used rather subtly so that most of the film's power relies on the writing and the visuals. And these two aspects are worthy even on their own. Even though the film gives a rather stereotypical image of the Japanese (who dislike the image) it's a very striking and tragic portrayal of the problems of social change and isolation, among others.

Shindo's cinematography is mostly static or at least the movement is so smooth and controlled that the viewer hardly notices it. It gives the daily routine a fitting rhythm and emphasizes the cyclical life of the family. Although the pacing of the editing is rather fast it doesn't feel like the film rushes towards the ending. Shindo likes to intercut between multiple motions and creates rather fascinating scenes out of simple moments (like rowing).

The film is not without an arguable flaw. The blandness of the characters is probably intentional, but it decreases the impact of the film's ending a bit too much. Luckily the tragedy is still intact.

Score: 9 out of 10

Assassination

Masahiro Shinoda's Assassination (1964) was the first jidai geki (period drama) for the Nuberu Bagu (Japanese New Wave) director. It dives deep into Japan's history prior to the Meiji Restoration by presenting the story of a talented swordsman who worships the Emperor and is eventually corrupted by the rivalry between the Emperor and the Shogunate.

Shinoda does dig deep into history, but it's also a vivid character study. The fragmented presentation has its ups and downs: while it makes the film ambiguous in an interesting way it relies a bit too much on the assumption that the viewer knows the historical event. I managed to comprehend the film without prior knowledge, but it was a challenging task to say the least. The opening of the film tries to inform the audience of the context, but it's not sufficient enough.

Purely on the level of characters and themes Assassination is a triumph and the form is even more delightful. Breathtaking and menacing compositions, wild camerawork and intense editing make the film a gem on their own. Even ambitious attempts like disruptive freezeframes and first person camera work surprisingly smoothly. Takemitsu's soundtrack is experimental and great yet again.

Assassination takes too many risks in its execution. It could easily be considered a masterpiece if the audience knew the historical context well enough. Shinoda barely manages to make it historically relevant for other viewers (which is a bad hindrance for a film so deeply embedded in it), but even without that it's a rather impressive achievement.

Score: 8 out of 10

Passing Fancy

Yasujiro Ozu's Passing Fancy (1933) is a slight inferior film from the director's silent era. Takeshi Sakamoto plays an unresponsible widowed father whose attempts at courting a younger lady lead to no good.

The film does play around with the themes Ozu often explored and there are a few interesting aspects in store for Ozu fans because he modelled the main character after his father and few other men he knew as a kid. There are times when the narrative simply implodes under the pressure caused by the imbalance of comedy and drama. Luckily that doesn't destroy the screenplay completely since it happens only on a few occasions that are surrounded by all around pleasant writing.

Ozu's form is a bit careless with random camera movement and stiff editing. However, he manages to get brilliant performances from the actors and especially the lead character's child is surprisingly natural in his role.

Even if Passing Fancy has its significant flaws, it is flawed in an interesting way for the fans of the director.

Score: 7 out of 10

Silence

It is not easy to summarize Masahiro Shinoda's Silence (1971). In a way it's like Ingmar Bergman's The Seventh Seal (1957) if it was set in the 17th century Japan. But that would be a misleading comparison for multiple reasons.

First of all, Silence is not expressionistic at all. Secondly, it is not only about the "silence of God" because Shinoda makes the most of Endo's original novel which criticizes Japan and organized religion as well as exploring a cultural conflict vividly. How does he do that? By telling a story of two Portuguese Catholic priests sneaking into Japan to guide the Japanese Christians in secret, which leads to a long and gruesome aftermath. One might wonder if Shinoda can keep it all together coherently within a single film. He surely manages to do that: the writing is surprisingly fluid in all aspects.

However, the form is not perfect. The jaw-dropping cinematography and powerful editing work well with Takemitsu's musical score, but there are a few irritating inconsistencies. The lighting is odd in the early scenes and the worst offender is the English dialogue. It is written well, but the British actors stumble with it terribly. And it doesn't help a lot when it hasn't even been recorded well. This is a problem when English is used for a third (if not more) of the entire dialogue of the film.

Silence could have become the ultimate clusterfuck of religion, culture and faith if it the glaring flaw had been polished to be less noticable.

Score: 9 out of 10

I Lived, But ...

Kazuo Inoue's documentary on the director Yasujiro Ozu, I Lived, But ... (1983), is a stunning achievement. It represents a comprehensive and compelling summary of his filmography and a touching portrayal of the director's personal life. The mystery surrounding the kanji mu (embedded on Ozu's grave) is also nicely explored.

Through clips of actual behind-the-scenes footage, interviews and thousands of photos, Inoue manages to build a truly brilliant biography of the great director. Especially the interviews of the stars of his films are essential and Sugimura's interview gives the film the required sentimental touch which makes it more unforgettable than any other documentary. There's also a great deal of imagery used a bit like Ozu's pillow shots accompanied with great music. They serve in a nicely cathartic way along with giving the documentary a relaxing pace and mood.

The name is not only a clever reference to Ozu's early filmography, but it also captures the possible internal conflict of the director's loneliness. Inoue employs a number of little subtle things like this to get under the viewer's skin and manages to move us by the end of the film by giving Ozu the respect he deserves.

Score: 10 out of 10

I Was Born, But ...

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Yasujiro Ozu's I Was Born, But ... (1932) is often called the masterpiece of Ozu's silent era and I agree with that sentiment. It succeeds at being a pitch-perfect comedy about childhood and a heartbreaking film about social injustice and family.

Even though the focus is on two brothers Ozu creates a huge ensemble of unforgettable characters around them. At first the film lulls the viewer with its lovely humor as performed by the wonderful cast of child actors, but gradually the tone becomes more and more serious ending in a heartaching way that is more than capable of delivering the central message.

Ozu also seems to finally master his form in this film: where it seemed a bit overblown or tired in Tokyo Chorus (1931) it seems to work smoothly despite still being vastly different from his sound film aesthetic.

I Was Born, But ... is an essential film for any cinephile - and especially if you're a fan of Japanese cinema or a fan Ozu, you can't miss out on this one.

Score: 10 out of 10

Tokyo Chorus

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Yasujiro Ozu's Tokyo Chorus (1931) is the film that (as David Bordwell said) was the important turning point for the director: it made him a major director. It is a fascinating mixture of comedy, drama and vastly different subjects - and all of that is charged with strong social values that are common for Ozu. There is a downside to the screenplay: it barely keeps its explosive expression together throughout the film. There's a constant change in mood and there are times when that almost doesn't work.

Like the writing, the form is also a bit different from what we are used to in later Ozu films. The kinetic yet precise camerawork and fast pacing make the film a bit exhaustive, but with its short running time (90 minutes) that's not a problem. Acting is good in general, but I'd like to give a nod to Tokihiko Okada for his great performance as the lead. He manages to combine the acting style common for silent films with a more grounded and tangible presence.

In the end Tokyo Chorus is a satisfying Ozu film even if it does not reach the height of his later masterpieces.

Score: 8 out of 10

Tokyo Twilight

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Yasujiro Ozu's Tokyo Twilight (1957) is probably the darkest film the director ever made. The familiar explorations of marriage and family are shadowed by grave misfortune. The focus is on two sisters who try to deal with children and marriage without a mother who left them when they were still kids.

Being an Ozu film, I had high expectations for Tokyo Twilight and even then I was a bit surprised because the film nearly reaches the complexity and emotional impact of the so-called Noriko trilogy. With a strong cast of characters (and actors) and a thought-provoking approach Ozu manages to create yet another unforgettable story.

Tokyo Twilight is not an exception to the formal aesthetic of Ozu's sound films and it isn't exactly stand out in his filmography, which means it is quite stunning on its own. The soundtrack is surprisingly a bit more emotional in comparison to the director's other films, but the difference isn't that significant in the end.

Ozu's incredible streak of great movies seems to have no end. Tokyo Twilight is often forgotten because the focus is on his other masterpieces like Late Spring (1949), but it is extremely fascinating and sublime as well.

Score: 10 out of 10

Early Spring

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Yasujiro Ozu's Early Spring (1956) is a departure from the director's work thematically: even though the focus is on family and marriage the story is about a salary man who begins cheating on his wife after becoming dissatisfied with his life and work. There is a lack of authority and it is replaced by other social concerns. Ozu's musings on work are enigmatic since nearly every scene is related to work, but nothing comes out of it at least on surface.

Ozu's form has clearly become static by now as there is only one moving shot (that is used in a tad confusing way to be honest). The pillow shots are mostly of interior locations as opposed to the vast amount of scenery shots used in the director's other films like Tokyo Story (1953).

Early Spring might be a lesser masterpiece from Ozu, but that's not surprising because he made it right after one of the greatest masterpieces of all time, Tokyo Story. However it's a refreshing film (even if way too long at two and half hours) from Ozu's filmography so I would gladly recommend it.

Score: 8 out of 10

Samurai Rebellion

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Masaki Kobayashi's Samurai Rebellion (1967) is a spiritual sequel to Harakiri (1964): Kobayashi's critique of authority in a heavily dramatized form. After Isaburo (Toshiro Mifune) is forced to have his son marry a former mistress of a powerful lord the entire family discovers that the girl isn't as bad as her reputation suggests. Due to a grim turn of events Isaburo and his son decide to disobey the lord's newer orders even though it puts their family in danger.

Even though I would call Samurai Rebellion Kobayashi's bloody revenge story it doesn't involve a lot of action until the final third of the film (which has a lot of it). Most of the focus is on the fascinating central family that is used heavily for the director's strong message that is approached in a possibly better way than in Harakiri. The downside of the screenplay has to be the ending. While the final scenes are perfect it stumbles for 10 minutes before that. The tension generated in the film is released way too early and some of the scenes lose the dramatic impact they were supposed to have. There's also the mystery of Tatsuya Nakadai's character whose relevance is questionable and it almost feels like his role was severely cut in the editing room.

Kobayashi's form is full of menacing energy that stems from the absolutely brilliant photography and the intense yet "slow" editing that hits the viewer like a ton of bricks when it is needed. The approach to the climactic action scenes is surprisingly tame, but they are still powerful enough. Toru Takemitsu's soundtrack is great again. The entire cast delivers magnificent performances and especially Toshiro Mifune is in top form this time.

Samurai Rebellion could have become another masterpiece for Kobayashi in the vein of Harakiri, but the slight (but drastical) mistake near the end hinders the film a bit too much.

Score: 9 out of 10

Early Summer

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Yasujiro Ozu's Early Summer (1951) is yet another observation of family and marriage in post-war Japan for the director. A surprisingly large cast of characters is introduced in the first third of the film before the major conflict is even ignited. Not the only characters are rich, but the writing in general is deeply (but subtly) touching in the unique way Ozu always managed to embed into his films.

From Ozu one can always expect formal brilliance and Early Summer is not an exception. Scenes are shot from a fixed low positions in the traditional Ozu way, but there are surprisingly many moving shots this time. Some of them work well, but there are a few that feel more like formal deficiencies. Luckily they are few and the other parts of the film easily overshadow the moments the form stumbles. It's also miraculous how Ozu's musical scores are always so timeless whereas other Japanese films from the same period of time offer soundtracks that in hindsight seem so "obviously 50's" (not to say they are bad, but when you give enough thought for it, that's how it seems).

Ozu's deeply moving and life-affirming films are one of the biggest reasons why I'm so fascinated by cinema. The repressed emotions and subtlety of his writing and his utterly unique aesthetic provide unforgettable cinematic experiences that make me speechless. I hope I can one day express that delight in words because right now I'm not exactly satisfied with what I've written. Nevertheless I urge everyone to go and see the director's films because they are a lot more rewarding than what modern cinema can offer.

Score: 10 out of 10

The Face of Another

The Face of Another (1966) is third collaboration between the director Hiroshi Teshigahara, composer Toru Takemitsu and writer Kobo Abe. The trio's achievements could be seen as pretentious and hilariously gritty, but somehow they always manage to completely enthrall me. It seems almost if their work became more subtle the more they worked together. The Pitfall's experimentality was strongly present throughout the film and even Woman in the Dunes was a bit, but that roughness was fitting for the film. The Face of Another is a significantly more restrained effort because even the unconventional bits flow smoothly.

The main character of the film (played superbly by Tatsuya Nakadai) explores the ambiguous nature of identity after his face is accidentally deformed and then replaced by a new one. Despite its heavy themes the film advances in a clearly comprehensible way that might be a bit ambiguous once in a while, but it never goes to the extremes of the trio's earlier films that are much more obscure (but not necessarily bad that way). The writing is intellectually very stimulating and provokes strong emotional reactions as it follows the questionable ethics of the main character.

Whereas Woman in the Dunes was formally claustrophobic, The Face of the Another is schizophrenic. After the menacing and experimental opening the film's form diverts a little from what is expected from the trio. The intense close-ups are fewer and Takemitsu's wonderful musical score is more subtle than before. The lighting and cinematography are just about as refined and powerful as they can be.

What could have been a misadventure in obscurity and pretension turns out to be yet another masterpiece from the famous Japanese New Wave trio.

Score: 10 out of 10

Flowing

Even though Mikio Naruse's Flowing (1956) tells about the geisha tradition in post-war Japan the audience is never shown scenes of the actual entertainment apart from brief glimpses of young geisha practicing. The film's focus is on the large cast of characters, all the different sort of people who live in the financially unstable geisha house.

Naruse's films usually develop at a relatively fast pace, but even under his standards Flowing's narrative is like a whirlwind. As multiple storylines develop simultaneously and intertwine, Naruse builds a fascinating world which easily gathers the audience's attention throughout the film. Each character is more or less colorful (and unforgettable) and the acting is top-notch. It is funny (yet amazing) how the film features so many of the greatest Japanese actresses of the 50's (only lacking Setsuko Hara).

The films Naruse made in the 50's follow the same sort of formal pattern so it is really hard to say anything new about it, having seen so many of his films in a row. It would be possible to approach each film more individually if I were to write an analytical text of the films, but within the restrictions of the review format it is quite impossible to say anything drastically different about each film. Flowing is formally excellent due to its great compositions (which differ in significant ways depending on whether the scene is set in an interior or exterior location) and crafty editing.

On the first view Flowing is great, but I'm not sure whether it is on the level of Naruse's greatest masterpiece (When a Woman Ascends the Stairs) yet. I guess I will have to watch it again at some point for final evaluation.

Score: 9 out of 10

Sound of the Mountain

In Mikio Naruse's Sound of the Mountain (1954) Setsuko Hara plays a housewife whose husband cheats on her. She faces an insurmountable decision as she has to figure out whether she should divorce him or not. Her close relationship with the father-in-law (who in turn neglects her own daughter) complicates the matter.

Essentially Sound of the Mountain is Naruse's exploration of family and marriage. It might be something he often observes in his films, but he always manages to bring a new aspect or approach to it - and this is not an exception. He handles the intimate "chamber drama" well in order to bring forth interesting details of the characters - which not only deepen the themes, but also make the film a lot more compelling to watch.

Naruse's form is pretty much the same as it is in his other films. His formal choices are barely noticable, but they are surprisingly powerful. In general it works well, but it is not mindblowing. In Naruse's film the soundtrack is often a bit of a nuiscance, but it isn't that bad this time.

Sound of the Mountain is a fine achievement for a director who is slowly becoming one of my all time favorites.

Score: 9 out of 10

Repast

Mikio Naruse's Repast (1951) focuses on the struggles of a Japanese housewife as she tries to attain inner peace in a troubled marriage. Naruse continues to explore women who aim for happiness despite the restrictions set by the harsh reality - and succeeds very well by hiding surprising complexity in simple scenes and developing fascinating characters subtly.

Naruse's brilliant white and black photography and sneaky editing are effective in a partly minimalistic way because they don't draw a lot of attention to themselves: the camera moves calmly and the editing patterns are rather conventional. The most impressive aspect in Repast is the acting: Ken Uehara and Setsuko Hara are magnificent. Especially the latter is (as expected) impeccable as the conflicted and emotionally unstable housewife that carries the entire film. However, the film is not without a flaw: the soundtrack is a bit over the top although it mostly works sufficiently, but it does stand out quite a lot in the "restrained" form.

Mikio Naruse has proven to be an interesting director like his reputation suggested before I was introduced to his film properly. There's something life-affirming yet "realistic" about his films that make them intriguing and poetic. Repast is one of his finest achievements judging from the few films I've seen so far.

Score: 9 out of 10

High and Low

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Akira Kurosawa's High and Low (1963) is a gripping combination of character study, social commentary and thriller. Toshiro Mifune's lead character is an executive (in a successful company) who becomes the target of a blackmail attempt.

Kurosawa's large cast of fascinating characters has to face thought-provoking ethical dilemmas as they try to solve the case without harming anyone. The director's strong ethical concerns and magnificently used melodrama are especially the key elements for the first third of the film which is shot solely on one set. The film names and explores many social concerns, but at the end I realised I'm not exactly sure what Kurosawa wanted to say with the film. That might just be my problem though. The more troubling "flaw" (even though it's not exactly one) is the surprisingly long police investigation part in the middle of the film. Luckily Kurosawa's approach to it never makes it boring even when it's clearly too long for the film's sake.

The form doesn't fail either. Kurosawa's explosive and captivating cinematography is on the level of his masterpieces (Seven Samurai) and the editing is almost equally impressive. The set design is vital for the film since a significant portion of it takes place at the lead character's house - and it is damn captivating to say the least. The form wouldn't have been nearly as effective without the amazing actors each of whom deliver a pitch-perfect performance. Mifune's aggressive and menacing performance is rivalled by Nakadai's confidence, Yamazaki's paranoia, Mihashi's introversion and Kagawa's hysteria.

When I'm asked who my favorite director is, I usually answer Akira Kurosawa. High and Low reminded me of why it is so even though it's not completely impeccable.

Score: 9 out of 10

Mystery Train

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Jim Jarmusch's Mystery Train (1989) consists of three storylines that have two things in common: all of the characters end up in the same cheap hotel and Elvis Presley is present in some form in each one. The first segment (Far From Yokohama) deals with two Japanese tourists who have come to Memphis to visit the home of Elvis Presley. The second one (A Ghost) is about a foreigner stuck in the city due to flight problems - and she eventually spends time with an incredibly talkative woman. The last segment (Lost in Space) focuses on a fascinating triangle dynamic between three guys who are in deep trouble.

Even though these segments are heavily interconnected their quality varies surprisingly lot. While the first segment offers a pitch-perfect piece of deadpan comedy the other two are only amusing at best. The Japanese couple of Far From Yokohama form such a great chemistry not only between the characters but also between the two performances that overshadows the rest of the film. Even though it is notably the "driest" part of the film in terms of direction the other two segments can not possibly rival it because Jarmusch's lack of exaggeration sometimes diminishes the impact of the comedy. Luckily none of the segments is bad, but there is a troubling inconsistency in quality that distracted me a little.

Jarmusch's form isn't exactly minimal because it uses a variety of techniques - especially in cinematography - but instead I would call it "calm". It lets the screenplay unfold at its own pace and the subtle humor is never pointed at. Most of the camera movement is subtle because it is done so slowly and smoothly that the viewer doesn't easily notice it - apart from a few scenes where the movement is obvious from the editing patterns. The soundtrack of the film is almost the complete opposition with its neverending charm and energy delivered by Presley, Orbison and other similar musicians. It's at least a fascinating and functional contrast so it doesn't hinder the film.

Mystery Train is a disappointing film in its own way: after a brilliant beginning the comedy falls a bit flat and even when Jarmusch gives the film more energy afterwards it never fully recovers. Nevertheless it is a rather funny and well executed film.

Score: 7 out of 10

Evangelion 2.0 You Can (Not) Advance

Evangelion 2.0 You Can (Not) Advance (2009) is the second part of a movie series that attemps to retell the story of Hideaki Anno's Neon Genesis Evangelion - a TV show that I utterly love and praise way more than anything else. Even though the first film was a rather uninventive remake of the first 6 episodes of the original show with brand new animation, the second film takes a significantly different direction to make the new films quite different from the original show.

Essentially Evangelion is about a group of teenagers saving the world in their giant robots from creatures called the "Angels" while mysterious old men smugly conspire for something much bigger. As interesting and mysterious as the plot sounds, it's only the framework for the grand psychological and philosophical issues which are also filtered through religious imagery.

Where this film seriously differs from the original show is its inclusion of a totally new character who - despite appearing as far less complex than the original cast - twists the storyline a lot via her chaotic (and badass) involvement. The already-familiar characters seem to evolve in slightly different paths this time, but I'm not sure if it is going to have an impact in the end since there are still 2 movies to be released. All in all, the writing is nearly as complex as in the original series (which is the ultimate masterpiece of cinema and TV in my opinion) and the film brings new interesting aspects to the characters and the world around them.

Anno's form is still top notch after 15 years. The editing is phenomenal throughout the film and the compositions are breathtaking. The vast budget is well used for gorgeous animation that only enhances the already rich cinematic experience. Shiro Sagisu's soundtrack might be a bit weird in comparison to the TV show because it includes some of his music from other shows and it is a bit more guitar-driven on a few occasions. Despite its different nature it is still quite awesome.

Hideaki Anno proves he is still at the top of his own game despite not doing anything for years prior to the earlier film. No matter how you look at the film, you can't find any flaws at all. It's a clear-cut diamond.

Score: 10 out of 10

Sonatine

Takeshi Kitano's Sonatine (1993) is clearly the film that defines Kitano's trademark style: deadpan humor presented through a calm and peculiar form. As a mob war escalates a group of yakuza decide to go into hiding in Okinawa.

The premise sounds like something that could be used for a lot of suspense and action, but Kitano does not take that route. Instead he explores the way the gangsters spend time hilariously at the beach, which is interrupted by bloody violence sparsely. Kitano's humor is bright and truly funny this time. Solid characterization and the relaxed setting allow it to bloom to new heights. Even though a few themes do unify the film the focus is on comedy and rough violence.

The form is a bit exceptional too. The absolutely gorgeous photography, the calmly moving camera and calm editing patterns make the audience forget the passing of time - it's really easy to get into the film's world because of that. Joe Hisaishi's beautiful score is both haunting and relaxing at the same time - it works well as a cathartic device as well. There are a few moments in which Kitano's approach is quite awkward. For example there is one pivotal action scene that is handled in a dry way despite its slightly dramatic potential. I guess Kitano intended it to be blunt, but it has an effect which is too alienating.

Sonatine is an all-around solid film that is the best choice if you want to be introduced to Kitano's filmography.

Score: 8 out of 10

Kill Bill (Volumes 1 and 2)

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Quentin Tarantino's two-part action masterpiece Kill Bill (2003 & 2004) is probably one of the most famous cinematic efforst of the noughties. It is a wild story of a woman taking revenge on a group of assassins who put her into coma and took her baby. Whereas the first film is an outrageous, tongue-in-cheek combination of Japanese pop cultural references, the sequel mixes that pattern with spaghetti westerns and somewhat serious drama.

The plot itself is rather simple as the main character, The Bride, eliminates each assassin one by one before going after Bill, the biggest bad guy of them all. The films are ridiculously full of references to other films and cultures. The weird mixture of yakuza, samurai myth and God knows what else can be found in the Crazy 88's, a group of sword-wielding gangsters The Bride slaughters in a famous action scene. The epic setpieces are entertaining on their own and this one in particular is one of the finest achievements of the genre. And the best part is the climax of the whole setpiece: an elegant duel in a Japanese garden covered in snow. There is also an entirely animated sequence for the origin story of one of the assassins, O-Ren Ishii, which fits surprisingly well into the film.

The sequel is a bit rougher in tone although it manages to be funny at the same time. Although occasionally it is indeed a bit confusing as the balance between actual drama and silly entertainment does not work smoothly. However it's not a drastic hindrance when the film still features great action scenes (none of them rival the Crazy 88's sequence, though) and an interesting flashback storyline.

The form is a triumph in both parts. Tarantino's slick use of music is refined here - although the 2nd Volume pales a bit in comparison to the 1st one. That does not mean it is bad at all. The editing switches between intensive/kinetic and relaxed to create a funnily "charistmatic" tone at all times. Charismatic in the way that it makes the film easily entertaining and never lets the viewer fall into boredom.

Above all, Kill Bill is top quality entertainment that never pretends to be anything else - even I was easily sucked into its violent and simple-minded world.

Scores:

Kill Bill Vol. 1 (2003): 10 out of 10

Kill Bill Vol. 2 (2004): 8 out of 10

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