Concentrate - the bad editing, the acting, the 'Russell' are all blended to make a perfect exploitation vehicle for the new generation.

Yet for some reason people are already complaining how this is the worst film that Tarantino has done, but the point has been missed.

In true Grindhouse style, a word that before now has never been used in the English language, Death Proof should be lovingly remembered as a perfect example of the American exploitation flick. It’s meant to be bad, so bad that it’s good.

In fact, amazingly damn good.

All the signs are there as homage to the much missed but equally loved films that Tarantino and partner in crime Rodriguez were used to seeing in their younger days. The over-promiscuous female characters, low-cut shirts and cheerleader outfits, guys just out to get laid, plain evil characters so based in the fires of hell that they really do sit there and cackle like a cartoon villain.

From Russell’s leering snigger to the worried looks on the sexy yet naïve faces of the cast of unknown crash fodder, except for McGowan (Scream, Phantoms and TV’s Charmed) and Dawson (Sin City, Clerks 2), the targeted girls treat him like the disabled war veteran that he clearly isn’t.

The choice of Russell is clear, an eighties hero best known for portraying Snake Plissken in Carpenter’s Escape from New York series, he adds the grit that even all the purposely bad editing could never achieve. Even the over concentration on plot-driven action just leaves you rolling around the aisles, the use of text messaging on a mobile phone just to serve as a plot device is obvious but so clearly needed.

The only thing that truly lets the film down is that it was split into two for UK audiences due to a bad reception in the ‘States; I can understand that people wanted another Pulp Fiction but that’s not what they should have been expecting.

With Planet Terror, no one, ever, has high-expectations for a Zombie movie but Tarantino has built up a reputation over the years that has even seen Jackie Brown shot down as a film that wasn’t as good as his previous efforts.

Even though people complain about him leaving his own style behind, all his director trademarks are still there, an atypical cameo as the almost exposition-heavy bartender, referencing films that even the young cast wouldn’t know, over-long conversation takes and even the traditional Red Apple cigarette request.

The only moment in which the film dragged was the conversations between characters in the second segment, where he proves he can write for women just as well as he can write for men.

Think about the opening over table conversation in Reservoir Dogs and all of Clarence’s monologues in True Romance, but due to the tension created by the very existence of Russell’s character, you forever wish that he would come out of nowhere in his ‘death-proof’ stunt vehicle and cut the conversation short.

If you’re prepared for grainy, exploitative venture into the unknown with plenty of gore, revenge and destruction with OCD, see this film and you will not regret it. Just don’t go with an unforgiving sense of humour otherwise you will come away disappointed. Remember, exploitation and entertainment go hand in hand.