Quentin Tarantino's "Death Proof" is a film deliberately built to feel broken. It’s one-half of the "Grindhouse" experiment, a celluloid love letter to the gritty exploitation cinema of a bygone era. The story unfolds as a diptych, two distinct tales of female camaraderie and vehicular vengeance. We first land in the dive bars of Austin, Texas, with Jungle Julia, Arlene, and Shanna. Their night...
