Kim Morgan: Hot and bothered? Who said this was a sexual thing? How insulting. I mean, a ramming Dodge Challenger? Snake Plissken? What kind of a girl do you think ... OK, OK, maybe it's a little sexual. Anyway, my point is, what's wrong with a guy reveling in his encyclopedic knowledge of exploitation if he's actually being inventive and honest along the way? And both "Kill Bill" and "Death Proof" are incredibly inventive and, as you said of "Jackie Brown" (which I like -- especially Robert Forster's performance), exceptionally naked. He's not just cataloging favorite scenes from Asian cinema, spaghetti Westerns, Brian De Palma, giallo, exploitation and redneck road movies; he's actually building on them, mixing the aesthetic and thematic elements into a feverish work of grand geek opera. And he knows we know that. He's not, like some other "inspired" filmmakers, simply copying Terrence Malick or Martin Scorsese or Robert Altman; he's tweaking and amplifying what he truly knows of life -- movies -- and Tarantino is a fan of cinema from the Grindhouse to the Art House. In that sense, he's a lot like Godard. And, really, a lot like Woody Allen, who also riffs on his influences ("Stardust Memories?" Fellini, anyone?) and continually chats about movies and music throughout his films. Maybe April March's "Chick Habit" (used at the end of "Death Proof") isn't as classy as George Gershwin's "Rhapsody in Blue" (used in Allen's "Manhattan") but ... oh what the hell, Serge Gainsbourg wrote it, so maybe it is. I truly believe Tarantino is (ahem) "shedding light on the human condition" via "Kill Bill" and "Death Proof" in that the human condition is not only comprised of what is real but what we fantasize about. When I watched Uma break through that grave in "Kill Bill," I was significantly moved. And when Traci Thoms turned her Challenger around to pursue a murderous Kurt Russell, I was inspired. Why is that response, even in the most fantastical of scenes, any less meaningful than watching a movie where someone does something mature and responsible? And I do own a 1971 Ford Torino, so if some jerk tried to ram me off the road, I might do the same damn thing.

David Fear: It's funny you bring up Scorsese because, whenever I watch Tarantino's work, I think of this documentary that someone did on Marty when he was in the midst of making "GoodFellas." An offscreen interviewer is saying how everybody talks about the way the legendary director eats, breathes and sleeps film ... and you can see the notoriously amped-up filmmaker suddenly getting even more fidgety. Then Scorsese blurts out: "Yeah, but doesn't that make you a one-sided person? If that's all I really do, is know film ... then why would you be talking to me? Why would you be interested in what I'm saying? I have some ideas about life and people as well." (The irony that this particular tidbit is something I'm quoting from a film is not lost on me.) I'm sure Quentin has, during the last 44 years of his life, fostered some opinions regarding life -- and his best writing certainly attests to a sensitivity toward the way people talk, if not think -- but too often, the man's movies seem far more interested in testifying about other films than the world around him, or the world around you or me. (As for Woody Allen, he used Fellini and Bergman as inspirations, not as the basis for karaoke sessions.) Maybe it's not fair to compare someone with 4 3/4 films underneath his belt (I'm counting "Death Proof" as half and his noxious segment from "Four Rooms" as one quarter) to a member of the exalted and coronated "greats" you mentioned earlier, so let's shift to a peer: Paul Thomas Anderson. He's a filmmaker who's also been known to quote heavily from other beloved works -- never mind the obvious Altman influence; that infamous firecracker scene from "Boogie Nights" was stolen wholeheartedly from "Putney Swope." But underneath the references, I also get a clear sense of someone who's trying to examine a world that extends beyond his vast DVD collection. I see an artist who's sensitive to the notion of family, to the idea of community and to the emotional complexities that make up what it's like to live in the world circa right now. I don't just see a guy who like, y'know, really, really loves Seijun Suzuki and Lucio Fulci and Pam Grier and Elvis, all riiiiight? Look, Tarantino's genius lies in his talent as a synthesist. We wouldn't be bothering with him if there was no potential there ... we're not doing a point/counterpoint on Brett Ratner, after all. No other cinephile-turned-director -- not even his/my own beloved Godard -- has been better at packing various strains of film history into one sausage-skin package. High culture, lowbrow pulp, art house, grindhouse, pretentious, psychotronic -- it's all in there. What he's managed to churn out with this methodology has rightfully been praised. "Reservoir Dogs" isn't just a great genre deconstruction; the movie still feels like it's turning the crime film's speedometer back to zero. "Pulp Fiction" is an incredible pop narcotic ... hell, it's a freakin' pop pharmacy! And I'll take that exchange between Pam Grier and Robert Forster about aging in "Jackie Brown" over any number of references to fast food and old Top 40 hits. The thing is, those three films are a testament to the fact that he has the potential to be something more than the sum of his influences. And yet, he now seems to be content churning out these Frankenstein monsters constructed from others' greatest hits. As a fellow film geek, I love that Tarantino has turned on a generation of people to areas of cinema that (a) I also love, and (b) other folks might not have given a second glance. Now I just wish he'd spend his time actually making film history instead of simply cherry-picking from it.

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