I went to see Kill Bill the other day. I enjoyed it. I didn’t expect to, I hasten to add, not because I haven’t enjoyed Tarantino’s other movies (in fact now I come to think of it I usually go towards Tarantino with a similar mindset of ‘I don’t think I’m gonna like this’) but rather because Reconstituted had spent the previous Friday telling me how gorey and bloody the film was (and indeed it was) and how little plot the movie had. Turned out it had minimal plot bu that the gorey bloody bits were done in such a stylised, beautiful, I guess cartoony sort of way that I actively enjoyed most of the fight scene, even the really ridiculous ones.
I enjoyed the movie when my expectations of it were low. My housemates, Giggles, FFG and The Curious Orange all went to see Kill Bill after hearing me saying I’d actually enjoyed it and Reconstituted and Film Buff seriously rant about how wonderful and amazing the film was for all sorts of ‘film critic’ reasons.
They hated it. They reckoned it had no plot and that the fight scenes were cheesy and pointless. Its a funny thing that expectations seem to change the smae experience for different people. With high expectations you get dissappointed and with low expectations you becomepleasantly surprised. I slept with a gay man once; sexually it was actually pretty pants but we both had a fun time becuase we’d both expected it to be worse…sometimes I get revelations when I’m thinking about entirely random things. Does anybody else ever think ‘Oh yeah…I’m a woman’ and have everything slot suddenly into place?