So I guess I'm more or less on record as liking the talkier Tarantinos. This one qualifies. And I love it for its dialogue. Even more than most of his movies, this one loves its beautiful women, and their dialogue (meaning their minds: Tarantino is a well-known feminist) is as sexy as their bodies. And, particularly on a second viewing, everything Stuntman Mike says is brilliant, brilliant verbal foreplay for his twisted jouissance to come.
But that's not what I love this movie for most. I love it most for its structure, its almost classically simple parallelism. The way it divides so neatly into halves, with the plot in each half almost perfectly mirroring the other (up to the point where Zoe Bell starts to kick ass); the way each half has such a slow, languid, sensual buildup, peaking in a big champagne pop of action. It's an elegant movie, if I may be permitted to describe a Tarantino that way. I find it very beautiful, on a structural level. As well as cool as hell on most other levels.
What I don't love it for is its musical philosophy. Actually, I do - mostly. Joe Tex? Check. Staggolee? Check. Jack Nitzsche? Check. Insisting that Pete Townshend made a mistake in not quitting the Who to join Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick & Tich? Insufferably hipsterish. (Is QT trying to make us hate Jungle Julia at this moment, right before the crash? Discuss.)