It's September 2022 and I just went to see this on the big screen. I love Pam Grier and the 70s vibe I thought I could expect from this movie.
There are elements of it that work pretty well, but it has an amateurish feel that haunts the actors and the script. I'm not the wokest reviewer (it is something that took hold a generation after mine) but the glaring sexism and crass exploitation of even the talented Pam Grier made it unwatchable for me. I am aware that it told a story of its time even at the time, but it reveals even more now about the men who made it. It says little about racism and lots about a debased sub culture that it presents as the black experience. If that were all, it might be watchable if not enjoyable, but to watch the absurd soft porn (girls fighting where all their breast keep escaping) is execrable. It was making headway with some I terating 'types' and I could see where Tarantino got the inspiration for hianjnfjnately superior Jackie Brown from, but after 1.15 I had to leave. Ashamed of sitting there with or without my overcoat! I enjoyed aspects of it, but like the possibly apocraphyl snuff movie audience, I felt if I stayed I would be complicit and have teh #MeToo generation to answer to (and rightly). Thank God Ms Grier was rescued by QT and given a real opportunity to make a lasting mark on cinema. Maybe this was a stage we had to go through, but it's not one we should revisit.
There are elements of it that work pretty well, but it has an amateurish feel that haunts the actors and the script. I'm not the wokest reviewer (it is something that took hold a generation after mine) but the glaring sexism and crass exploitation of even the talented Pam Grier made it unwatchable for me. I am aware that it told a story of its time even at the time, but it reveals even more now about the men who made it. It says little about racism and lots about a debased sub culture that it presents as the black experience. If that were all, it might be watchable if not enjoyable, but to watch the absurd soft porn (girls fighting where all their breast keep escaping) is execrable. It was making headway with some I terating 'types' and I could see where Tarantino got the inspiration for hianjnfjnately superior Jackie Brown from, but after 1.15 I had to leave. Ashamed of sitting there with or without my overcoat! I enjoyed aspects of it, but like the possibly apocraphyl snuff movie audience, I felt if I stayed I would be complicit and have teh #MeToo generation to answer to (and rightly). Thank God Ms Grier was rescued by QT and given a real opportunity to make a lasting mark on cinema. Maybe this was a stage we had to go through, but it's not one we should revisit.