Death Proof shows a tragic shame when the moment Quentin Tarantino decides to carry a film only with his usually reputable dialogue that his writing is at its absolute worst. The young girls’ sassy shtick gets annoying quickly, and it feels like they just want to hear themselves talk (about nothing). The self-obsession is grating and every girl has the same personality, making them sound like one big nebulous of narcissism. You almost want to root for the psychotic Stuntman Mike. Planet Terror is better because it knows what it wants to be.