For a month and a half, KILL BILL concerned itself with the scenes in the hospital, with Uma in a coma, and various bits and pieces: a parking garage, an airport, stuff like that.
Finally, I got the call to go to Lancaster, out in the desert, where they’d built a pretty little chapel for the wedding rehearsal scene which is the constantly flashed-back-to centerpiece of the film. The first day there, I waited around until almost sunset, to play The Silent Flute, off-camera. It turned out it wouldn’t play at all. The poor thing had finally gone completely south, from all the cracks it had in it as a result of using it as a weapon in Circle of Iron and Dune Warriors. I switched to the flute I’d made for Kung Fu, The Movie. That worked fine, until the next day, when I had to tell Quentin. He thought about using The Silent Flute anyway, and putting in the sound later, but then decided it wouldn’t be as much fun as having the music “live’, and reasoned that, come-to-think-of-it, it would be cool to have a flute from one of the Kung Fu shows.
I got the prop guys to give me my two-gun rig. Quentin had cut the fast-draw sequence out of the movie. We’d gone to a lot of trouble to design the outfit, and we figured that if he saw me play with them enough, he might find a place for it.
The scene with Uma was truly awesome. It’s a love scene, really; though, true to Tarantino’s mystique, I would shoot her in the head at the end of it. There was a special soft light in the desert, as a result from the overcast caused by a forest-fire nearby. With a light breeze blowing her hair, and picking up the hem of her wedding gown, Uma was just gorgeous. About halfway through the sequence, Quentin remarked that he thought this was my best scene in the movie. I replied that it might be the best scene in my entire career.
For two days we worked on it, getting better all the time. Then we moved inside the church, and “The Viper Squad” showed up in skin tight black leather outfits and blew away the wedding party with M-16′s. (Daryl Hanna, Vivica A. Fox and Lucy Liu looking about as sexy as it gets, and Michael Madsen providing the rumpled macho side of it, with a ton of turquoise jewelry and mismatched lizard boots) The noise was a lot more than deafening. My ears were blown long ago, from guns and rock & roll, but some of the others might have a hard time hearing their beepers from now on.
Samuel L. Jackson showed up to do a cameo as the church organist, dressed like a Harlem pimp, and Bo Swenson towered over us all as the Pastor. At lunch I decided to repair The Silent Flute. I got some lacquer from Props, and drenched the bamboo with it to fill up the cracks. Then I hung it up on a wire to dry while we went for lunch. It should be fine again, once the lacquer cured, if we didn’t have a sandstorm while it was drying.
After I finished, I stayed overnight to watch Michael Parks play the sheriff the next day. I love his work. The little chapel looked sad, all shot full of holes, and the wedding party was laying around the floor, with fake blood all over them. I had a short conversation with the dead bridegroom before I realized I was talking to a dummy. The fact that half his head was missing should have clued me in, but I’m a little slow.
The company moved to a new location outside of Barstow, a little town way out in the Mojave desert, with nothing going for it, except that it’s one of the towns mentioned in the song, Route 66. There I spent two beautiful days doing a scene with Michael Madsen, who turned out to be a great guy, and a fine actor. He does a whole lot of shtick, his eyes squinting and darting around, his hands never still, playing with his hat, gesturing, scratching his chin. Plus, if that’s not enough, he’s drinking schnapps and spitting tobacco. But, somehow it never seemed corny. Quentin told me quietly, “Don’t try to fall into what he’s doing.” I said, “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t dare! I’m not moving a muscle!” I didn’t. I played it absolutely straight. The contrast between the two brothers should be cool. Me, the elegant, stoic master-assassin, and he, the shit-kicking trailer-trash redneck.
I slapped on the gun-rig again for the scene, and, as we’d hoped, Quentin let me do a little with it. Each day, we worked right up to sunset, with the shadows creeping across the desert over Michael’s big final speech. It was beautiful.
Then I sat at home waiting for my final scene with Uma, the one where we fight to the death. I worked with my friend Peter on my 15-page monologue daily, trying to get it down pat. I’d learned that, with Quentin, you have to be absolutely letter-perfect.
On the day, I showed up on the set to find that it was all changed. I’d have to learn it all over again. Well, if I could learn quotes from The Tao Te Ching with one glance, I could get this down. We worked away at it, day by day, my concentration complicated by all the props I had to work with. Quentin had me making sandwiches, pouring tequila, and, Yes, Baby! Twirling my six-shooters, and shooting up the place! Our subterfuge had worked! Quentin fell for it.
The final fight with Uma was completely rewritten; to become something no one would expect. I won’t spoil it by giving it away. You have to see the movie. Pai Mei’s Five-Point-Palm Exploding-Heart Technique is still in, but the Samurai sword fight that precedes it is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Pure vintage Tarantino.
I can’t wait to see this epic, myself. It’s wonderful when I’m in a movie that I really want to go see.
Though this was the final scene in the film, there were still a lot of bits and pieces to pick up, but my work was finished, or so I thought. There was a big party on the set after we wrapped. The lights were turned low, and neon disco mobiles appeared in the fake night sky, while the state-of-the-art sound system played Salsa Music, and everyone (except me, of course) drank Dom Perignon champagne under the (real) swaying palm trees.
A couple of weeks later, I was called back to do my end of a phone conversation with Daryl. We called her up on a cellphone, and she did her side of it from her home in Colorado. Then I repeated some of the storytelling I’d shot in Beijing, so they could get a better close-up of Uma in her sleeping bag. The Silent Flute was in great form. The repair had worked perfectly. Quentin was in great form. We had a lot of giggles. The picture was in the can, now. This stuff was just the icing.
And that was it. I felt lost, suddenly. This movie had become my home. Almost ten months it had been since I’d started the training. And now it was over. But, I felt fulfilled, for sure. Like a fighter after a big bout. Banged up and worn out, but victorious. I’d walked away with The Belt. I’d just finished what might be the best work I’d ever done, and I’d made many great new friends.
I’m sure glad I’ve finally figured out how to be a nice guy.
