Death Proof (2007)

While playing by the rules--scantily clad women, sudden brutality, straightforward narrative--he also gleefully subverts the genre to keep us thoroughly entertained.

Tarantino has a blast with this affectionate nod to '70s exploitation flicks, but the dialogue isn't as good as it should have been.

The dialogue with which Tarantino is usually adept is disastrously clunky, the filmmaking largely without flair and even the apeing of the smears and scratches of the schlock originals seems ridiculous.

Next to Kill Bill, this is only 50 per cent proof, but the last car chase will have you hanging on for dear life.

With its scratchy print, jerky editing and retro title sequence, Quentin Tarantino's fifth film bends over backwards to establish its Seventies sexploitation-flick credentials.

This blend of girlie action flick with retro car-chase movie scores nought out of 10 for artistic expression but four for amiable delinquency.

Death Proof is an out-and-out dud, a film so profoundly dull, so relentlessly misguided, so criminally self-indulgent you almost feel bad criticising it. It’s like kicking a man on crutches.

No need to buckle up, Death Proof is stuck in the slow lane. Self-indulgent and uninspired, bankrollers Bob and Harvey Weinstein should have reined in Tarantino with a genuine Grindhouse-sized budget.