By Fatmir Terziu
Roehampton University
Media, Culture & Politics
The film starts “by stating a disruption” with a long close-up of The Bride, bloody, agonised and beaten face, behind the wheel of a car, explaining her mission, which is to kill Bill
Kill Bill: Volume One is a movie in which the narrative gives attention to the things like parent-child relationships, trust, and the paths we choose to take in our lives. The narrative events are presented in non-chronological order. The camera creates “a narrational omniscience” and introduces us to “unconscious optics” (Bordwell, 1989: 163 & Benjamin, cited in Wright 1989: 78). The characters consist of their characteristics, “a character enters the frame, performs an action, and exits” (Schrader, 1972: 67). Lurking beneath everything is the suggestion of a time and space in which all of this makes sense in the same way that a superhero’s origin story makes sense. This is what Bordwell called “canonic narration” when “film presents psychologically defined individuals who struggle to solve a clear-cut problem…” (Bordwell, 1985: 157). For Barthes “… a single figure can absorb different characters” (Barthes, 1977: 107). It can be said that this film guides us into more meaningful interludes that defy and even subvert all narrative conventions of these genres. This essay aims to analyse and critique how Kill Bill: Volume One achieves its particular affects using some of the narrative fiction strategies. It also intends to examine the codes and conventions of narrative fiction in this film.
Narrative fiction draws in ‘representation’ through acts of ‘identification’, in the opening sequence (Bordwell, 1989: 165). The film starts “by stating a disruption” with a long close-up of The Bride, bloody, agonised and beaten face, behind the wheel of a car, explaining her mission, which is to kill Bill (Ellis, 1992: 68). Then it is the voice of Bill consoling her, his hand with a handkerchief cleaning some of the snot and blood off her face. This whole time, the viewers are on The Bride, her lip trembling, her life, is about to be over. She utters a last minute phrase, and the gun is fired and an explosion of black blood splatters behind her head. Here parametric narration’s temporality is intricate by “story events [that] are buckled into loops” (Bordwell, 1985: 290). For Lothe, narrative attention on one character “will as a rule make the character more important…” (Lothe, 2000: 132). Fabe argued, “…plots tend to focus on a central character, … whose desires motivates the action…” (Fabe, 2004: 67). According to that, the narrative exposes that women are both the heroes and the villains, in this film.
In a sequence after a beautifully composed battle, when the innocent child enters, narrative fiction evokes feelings of wholeness by evoking sadistic desires. Branigan argued, “invisible observation asks the spectator to accept a restriction” (Branigan, 1992: 172). In a classic style, Vernita and The Bride viciously eye each other on opposite sides of a window, through which we see a school bus pull up and a little girl get out, walk up to the door, and enter the house. It is Vernita’s daughter, and the women, coated in blood, sweat, and broken glass, stash their weapons behind their backs and pretend for the kid’s sake to be old girlfriends.
“It’s hard to think of another sequence that combines irony, suspense, dread, comedy, surrealism, violence and swollen faces as much stupefying rest as the one has concocted” (Woods, 2005: 170).
This dark underworld of assassins is interrupted by simple realities, a child getting off the bus. There is what Bordwell argued “to wring every emotional drop out of fabula situations, the narration employs omniscience” which leads the point that Barthes defines “the narrational level” as “contiguous to the narrative situation…[is created where] the narrative is undone” (Bordwell, 1985: 71 & Barthes, 1977: 117). In such a scene, the action moves forward seamlessly across the cuts from shot to shot, and the motivations and inventions of the characters are revealed directly through speech, gesture and movement.
In the opening scene the screen goes black and then we hear Nancy Sinatra sing over the opening titles. The narrative fiction, which enters in this sequence into this interaction, between rhythm and sound, is “spatial – temporal manipulation of editing” (Bordwell, 1985: 278). For Bellour “this double narrative inflection” moreover has its effects on at least “two of the codic implications of the narrative” (Bellour, 1986: 99). As Eisenstein rightly emphasises that musical and visual images are in fact “not commensurable through narrowly ‘representational’ elements” (Eisenstein, 1970: 163). In this film, the diegetic sound, the speech and other sounds of the story world, dominates the sound mix. Non-diegetic, commutative music plays the role of unobtrusively underscoring the action what Izod argued “the meaning of musical punctuation changes just through its timing alone…” (Izod, 1984: 94).
The moral drama, the choices and the consequences, the dialogues about identity unlike the violence, these are presented in all seriousness in order to get viewers “to distinguish between the parallel syntagma and the bracket syntagma” (Metz, 1986: 47). Benjamin looks in particular to these points for offering “the viewer’s placid contemplation” (Benjamin, cited in Wright 1989: 78). Through dialogue, this film introduces the characters and their obsessions. Dialogue has a “central role in the creation of narrative” and every movement and word is important for the viewer (Izod, 1984: 87). The Bride is confident and the language that she uses fulfils the emptiness of some sequences, while other characters are sometimes in dilemma. In scene action, when The Bride is fighting, narrative through dialogue makes it easier to understand the plot and the action. The first visual contact with Vernita, and later after Nicky, Vernita’s child, disappears, “focalization also intends to more complex experiencing of objects” (Branigan, 1992: 101). This narrative device reflects internally through The Bride to summarise and clear a surrounding situation and so become a reflection of the mission.
The narrative creates suspense in the fragment when Elle is about to kill The Bride in hospital. Elle enters the ward of the hospital dressed like a nurse, fills a syringe with poison and places it in a tray ready to carry it, then puts on a nurse’s hat and shoes. Then she enters in The Bride’s hospital room. As she is about to put the poison in The Bride’s life support the telephone rings. For Barthes the aim of the narrative is not to ‘represent’, it is “to constitute a spectacle still very enigmatic…” (Barthes, 1977: 124). In another scene for The Bride to wake up from the coma a bug, biting her is used as a narrative tool. In such a scene the driving or motive force behind a course of action of narrative is exactly, what Barthes called ‘catalysers’ (Barthes, 1977: 94) which lead Branigan’s theory “a catalyst addresses the spectator’s interest…” (Branigan, 1992: 82). When Vernita offers a coffee when she stops fighting with The Bride and waits for her chance to kill her, the coffee as a pretext has a “polysemic value” and is a kind of “symbolic node grouping several signified; as a functional unit” (Barthes, 1977: 118). According to Barthes “this general distortion is what gives the language of narrative special character” (Barthes, 1977: 119).
Narrative situation is helped by flashbacks to ‘expand screen duration’ (Bordwell, 1985: 84). For Turim “some flashbacks directly involve a quest for the answer to an enigma posed in the beginning of a narrative through a return to the past” (Turim, 1989: 11). The flashback when The Bride describes from her memory the members of the Deadly Viper Assassination Squad are used to explain more about her past, and is an example of this. For Burch it is “…for structuring narrative time…” (Burch, 1973: 62). Similarly, Bordwell describes it as “a second canonic case of temporal manipulation” which is ‘overlapping editing’ (Bordwell, 1985: 84). However, in the opening scene Bill’s footsteps and The Bride’s breathing just add to the use of flashbacks and are what Bordwell argued, “the remaining flashbacks maintain the unpredictability” (Bordwell, 1985: 92). Likewise, Wilson argued “…flashback forces one, in retrospect, to take it as a strict visual equivalent for the murderer’s words…” (Wilson, 1986: 106).
The narrative rules transformation from a bad situation to a good one and “lends itself to summary” (Barthes, 1977: 120). In this film this transformation had two aspects. On the one hand, it evokes regressive states and primitive emotions in us. It does so in part by provoking our anger at the outrageous misdeeds of the villain. The early scenes in which The Bride is recovering from a coma in the hospital include entirely unnecessary revelations about sex crimes committed against her. The criminals who molest The Bride during her comatose state are given some truly despicable and obscene lines to utter, merely to make us hate them and to goad us into cheering when they are destroyed. Then it invites us to enjoy the pleasure of identifying with the hero as she engage in the legitimate symbolic and violence that will stop the villain. In another way it also mobilises our sadism, by inviting us to take what Hayward called “jouissance in the ridicule or mockery” that it directs at characters (Hayward, 2000: 303). “Jouissance is derived from modes of narration that do not provide closure” (Hayward, 2000: 303). For Barthes it is “a pseudo-logical schema” which leads Bordwell’s argument “narrational processes [are] self-conscious to the audience” (Barthes, 1977: 128 & Bordwell, 1985: 322).
Another telling indication of the codes and conventions of this film is the displacement of the scene, strictly defined; a stretch of narrative defined by the traditional unites of time, space and action. When The Bride wakes from her coma four years later, determined to find the man, Bill, and the venomous female assassins who helped take her out, “the viewer … as ‘invisible’” realises she is neither gentle nor apologetic (Willemen, 1986: 211). Then, in the scene, when the girl returns to stare blankly at her dead mother, narrative draws it back into the romantic samurai world and fulfils with the impression that this girl will one day grow up, take up a sword, and seek her revenge. For Burch, the film does work with “structure of aggression” and “nonnormative plastic conception” (Burch, 1973: 42). Bordwell argued that, “in classical narration, style typically encourages the spectator to construct a coherent, consistent time and space…” which leads Wilson’s argument “the narration simultaneously establishes a certain distance” (Bordwell, 1985: 163 & Wilson, 1986: 42).
At last, Kill Bill: Volume One represents an example, similar to many fiction films, in which a narrative structure works in connection with other components of the film to create the complete experience. Splitting the film at the middle does seem to have thrown off the narrative rhythm. When the story slows down for The Bride’s visit to Okinawa, where she hangs out with a sushi-bar operator, the movie stretches out to a degree that might feel more natural. Bordwell explained, “in general, the narration is so constructed that characters and their behaviour produce the necessary story data” (Bordwell, 1985: 161). According to that the narrative is a juxtaposition of events, which are told back to front, with some in order and some out. In this film it can be seen in many scenes. The most related scene is when in a nightclub The Bride kills or maims everyone to complete her revenge.
To sum up, Kill Bill: Volume One is a film with its own narrative style. I have clearly analysed its specific affects using some of the narrative fiction strategies. I have pointed out the codes and conventions of narrative fiction in this film. Further, I have tried to examine these codes and conventions and their role in Kill Bill: Volume One. It can be said that the narrative has reached the understanding of the theme of this film in form, time, and space. In my view, the role of the narrative in this fiction film is the most important factor when it comes to analysing it. It can be seen as a necessary tool. Kill Bill: Volume One would not be as successful as it is, if it was not for the narrative.
Reference:
Barthes, Roland (1977) Image Music Text London: Fontana Press, pp. 94- 128.
Bellour, Raymond (1986) The Obvious and the Code in Philip Rosen’s ED Narrative, Apparatus, Ideology: A film Theory Reader New York: Columbia University Press, p. 99.
Benjamin, Walter (1989) Quoted in Elizabeth Wright’s ED Postmodern Brecht A Re-Presentation London & New York: Routledge, p. 78.
Bordwell, David (1985) Narration in the Fiction London: Routledge, pp.84- 322.
Bordwell, David (1989) Making, Meaning, Inference, and Rhetoric in the Interpretation of Cinema London: Harvard University Press, p.165.
Branigan, Edward (1992) Narrative Comprehension and Film London & New York: Routledge, p.82-172.
Burch, NoÎl (1973) Theory of Film Practice New York: Praeger, pp. 42-62.
Eisenstein, Sergei (1970) The Film Sense London & New York: Harcourt Brace, p.163.
Ellis, John (1992) Visible Fictious: Cinema Television Video London & New York: Routledge, p. 68.
Fabe, Marilyn (2004) Closely Watched Films: An Introduction to the Art of Narrative Film Technique Berkeley & Los Angeles & London: University of California Press, p. 67.
Hayward, Susan (2000) Cinema Studies: The Key Concepts London Routledge, p. 303.
Izod, John (1984) Reading the Screen Harlow: Longman, pp. 87-115.
Lothe, Jakob (2000) Narrative in Fiction and Film New York: Oxford University Press, p. 132.
Metz, Christian (1986) Problem of Denotation in the Fiction Film in Philip Rosen’s ED Narrative, Apparatus Ideology: A film Theory Reader New York: Columbia University Press, p. 47.
Schrader, Paul (1972) Transcendental Style in Film Ozu, Bresson, Dreyer London & Bekerley: University of California Press, p. 67.
Turim, Maureen (1989) Flashbacks in Film Memory & History London & New York: Routledge, p.11.
Wilson, M. George (1986) Narrative in Light, Studies in Cinematic Point of View Baltimore & London: The Johns Hopkins University Press, p. 106.
Willemen, Paull (1986) Voyeurism, The Look, and Dwoskin in Philip Rosen’s ED Narrative, Apparatus Ideology A film Theory Reader New York: Columbia University Press, p. 211.
Woods, A. Paul (2005) Quentin Tarantino: The Film Geek Files London: Plexus, pp. 170.
