If, like me, you didn't like Death Proof then about an hour into the film you'll start rubbing the bridge of your nose or maybe twitching your right index finger over your left eyebrow and squinting down at the floor, repeating in your head (or aloud) every five minutes of so: 'I can't believe Quentin Tarantino made this, I can't believe Quentin Tarantino made this'. It is sad but equally as surprising just how low Tarantino has sunk with Death Proof, one half of an experiment (nothing more) he did with Robert Rodriguez called 'Grindhouse' which was supposed to recreate a 1970s, exploitation style experience in a Grindhouse cinema in which you'd see low-rent horror/sci-fi in all its gloriously gritty and patchy glory.