This is the point at which Quentin Tarantino officially crossed the line from junk collector to junk producer. The first Kill Bill installment at least intrinsically offered hope that its follow-up would add a bit of substance to the proceedings. Instead, the second half of Tarantino’s tribute to every crappy kung fu/revenge/biker flick he had ever seen proved to be nothing more than that: an epic ode to odiousness.
