I Don't Know How to Ride A Bike... <BR>(and other ramblings): Random Pet Peeve #2

I Don't Know How to Ride A Bike...
(and other ramblings)

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Random Pet Peeve #2

I'll be the first to admit that I obsessively harp on the stupidest things. And I'll probably be the first to admit that most of my thoughts are better kept to myself.

But I just can't seem to get over this, even though it's been years. For some odd reason, I had a compulsive need to watch Kill Bill (Volume I; Volume II was just way too chatty for me). I had already seen it in theatres back in 2003, but my memory is fickle and there have been many movies since. Unfortunately, I'm too cheap to go and rent it at Blockbuster, so imagine my surprise when I flipped the channel one lazy Saturday night (yes, I was home Saturday night...leave me be) to find Kill Bill Volume I in the midst of its second act. Since it's such a long-ass film, I hardly missed a thing.

And then, I saw that scene again.



In the scene above, which appears towards the end of the film (spoilers kind of abound -- but if you haven't seen this four-year-old movie by now, you probably never will), The Bride a.k.a. Black Mamba a.k.a. Beatrix Kiddo a.k.a. Quentin Tarantino and His Damn Code Names sits on a flight to the U.S., where she's returning to kick some ass. Since the film is not told in chronological order, this list is kind of redundant since we've already seen her eliminate the first two names.



Oh, but there's more. The rest of the list neatly sets up her next targets in the sequel, not that we couldn't have guessed based on the numerous repetitive flashback scenes and cast credits.

What seriously bugs me is not Tarantino's quirky style, or the way all his characters speak with heavy-handed subtext, or even the overzealous "homages" to the B-films he clearly idolizes, but the need to have The Bride write a list in the first place. This is mostly because there are five damn people on it, and if you can't keep track of the names of the five people who tried to kill you, succeeded in killing your fiancé and wedding party, and conspired to keep the whereabouts of your baby a secret, then maybe you're not cut out for the task.

Also, I just can't get over the fact that The Bride writes like a second-grader who's just had too much candy. You can practically see her sticking her tongue out of her mouth as she carefully writes out each letter.

I'm not a handwriting snob by any means, but it just seems to me that a grown woman wouldn't have the need to write so...largely, and with differently coloured pens, no less. How weirdly organized of her. Possible reasons for the stylistic choice in list-making: a) The Bride hates white space; b) The Bride is far-sighted and forgot her contacts; The Bride has to hand in her homework to my fourth-grade teacher, Mrs. Spadina, who hands out extra stickers when you involve colour-coded lists.

I get the fact that The Bride tried to convey her anger by making the lettering progressively bigger as she went down the list, but I don't get why a renowned and deadly assassin would leave any piece of incriminating evidence behind, let alone why she would so openly make a "death list five." Can you imagine if you were the guy sitting next to her on that plane? Would you even ask her what's up with that, or just try to take a nap and hope the crazy lady next to you moves by the time you get up?

For some reason, I'd always envisioned The Bride with a more cursive style of penmanship. At least something, anything, that doesn't resemble a seven-year-old's diary entry.



The Bride may be the first person I call when I need some asses kicked or lessons in breaking out of coffins, but when it comes to grocery lists and birthday cards, I think I'll handle it myself.

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