Death Proof is superbly made. There's a terrible tension watching these beautiful and spirited young women getting too close to the flame, followed by enormous relief when the mood changes in the second story.

The dialogue with which Tarantino is usually adept is disastrously clunky, the filmmaking largely without flair and even the apeing of the smears and scratches of the schlock originals seems ridiculous.

With its scratchy print, jerky editing and retro title sequence, Quentin Tarantino's fifth film bends over backwards to establish its Seventies sexploitation-flick credentials.

Deliberately paced but never boring, Tarantino's half of the 'Grindhouse" double bill builds to an adrenaline-pumping climax.