David Carradine is Bill—the complex, charismatic master assassin from the critically acclaimed, monstrously successful Kill Bill films. Throughout the filming of Quentin Tarantino's brilliant, violent epic, Carradine kept a daily diary—capturing all the action, the genius, the madness, and the magic that combined to make a masterpiece. More than simply an insider's close-up look at the filmmaking process and the astonishing cast and crew—director Tarantino, star Uma Thurman, and all the other artists whose extraordinary skills helped create something glorious—The Kill Bill Diary illuminates the fine points of the serious actor's craft, as a truly unique talent takes us along with him on a quirky, breathtaking, no-holds-barred, and altogether miraculous journey. It is a must-own volume for anyone who loves the movies.

The Kill Bill Diary

HarperCollins Publishers, Inc.

Chapter One

Thursday, March, 21, 2002

I'm back from across the great water. After four weeks in Alicante, Spain, making a movie called La Bala Perdida (The Lost Bullet). Had the greatest time, riding my noble stallion and doing fast draws, surrounded by crazy Spaniards who hardly spoke English. Had to (get that: HAD to) stop in Paris on the way back. My wife, Annie, and I spent one glorious romantic night there, and then took the Eurostar, the train that goes under the English Channel, to jolly old London to close a deal to do a play there next year. We walked the streets, saw a play, and took the train back to Paris for one more day. It turned out our flight was cancelled—something to do with terrorists—so we were "forced" to stay an extra two days in Paris. Poor us.

Our hotel was a sweet little bed-and-breakfast right around the corner from the Arc de Triomphe. We visited the Sacre Coeur, a beautiful church on a hill that overlooks all of Paris, above the Place Pigale, where all the strippers hang out. A visit there has been an always tradition of mine since around '75. We spent an afternoon on the Ile St. Louis, an island in the middle of the Seine, and crossed the bridge to the Ile de la Cité, where Notre Dame Cathedral is, the place where Quasimodo the hunchback rang those bells. Then, that night, I took Annie for an extra treat: the Crazy Horse Saloon, for the classiest strip show on earth. She was almost the only female there, except for the ones on stage. Annie loved it. My kind of girl. After the show, the owner made us get on stage with the girls for a picture.

We walked back to our little hotel on a rare balmy Paris night, and kissed on the sidewalk, something we try to do on every sidewalk we're on. So far, we've done that in seven cities on three continents, plus a few small towns, and a temple or two.

When we got back home to L.A., there were three messages from Quentin Tarantino. Something about a documentary he was doing; interviews connected with the DVD releases of Quentin's movie Jackie Brown. There was also a message from my agent. I called him first, and was told I was up for a movie called Kill Bill, directed by Tarantino and starring Warren Beatty. I called Quentin and we set it up to meet at a Thai restaurant on Sunset Boulevard the next day, Friday. I was jumping! "I'm going to be in a Warren Beatty film!"

Friday, March 22

The next morning, I dressed myself in the cool clothes Annie had impelled me to buy in Alicante, Spain, and hopped into my '82 Maserati Quatro Porte. The place was hard to find. There were three Thai restaurants within two blocks, none of them with the name I remembered Quentin giving me. On the third try, I finally walked into a dark chamber with '50's rock & roll posters on the walls. I knew this must be the place. Quentin was already eating. I didn't recognize anything on the menu, so I ordered something more or less at random, which turned out to be a huge pile of noodles. Quentin talked pleasantly about this and that. He said, "That's a great jacket."

"Yeah," I said. "Annie got this for me in Spain. I don't pay any attention to clothes. I usually just wear stuff from the movies I make."

This is not strictly true, but Quentin said, "Yeah! Me too!" Then he said, "Do you remember when we met, in a bar someplace in Toronto, during some festival?"

"Yeah," I said, "the Toronto Film Festival."

"There was this song you were playing on the piano. It was over the titles in Sonny Boy." (This is a cult movie I made in New Mexico, in which I wore a dress—kind of Bonnie and Clyde, with me as Bonnie.)

"Yeah," I said. "'Paint'; it's called 'Paint.'"

"Yeah," he said. "Maybe it's 'Paint,' right?" Quentin has an incredible memory. "I like that song."

What the hell! Did he come here to talk about my music?

Then, finally, he got down to it. "You said a psychic had told you to meet me."

"Well, yeah. My wife . . . ex-wife . . . was . . . uh . . . I know it sounds weird . . ."

"No," he said. "It doesn't. What you said was this psychic told you we were supposed to work together." He put a big emphasis on "work."

"Uh, yeah. That's what he said."

"Well," Quentin said, "now's the time."

Cool!

"And," he said, "it's come about in a really organic way."

I said, "Isn't just about everything you do done in an organic way?"

"Well, yeah. It's kind of my métier." He laughed. Quentin laughs big. He does everything big. "Do you know anything about Kill Bill?"

Well, I knew a lot about it by now, but I just said, "Only that it's a movie you're making with Uma Thurman."

Okay, then he began this long story about his "love affair" with Warren Beatty, and how that had sort of soured.

"So, we had this meeting," he said. "And, sometimes I was thinking, It's okay, we can make it happen. And sometimes it was like, No way! This is just not going to work. I was beginning to think Warren just didn't get it, you know?

"Then, Warren suddenly blurted out, 'Look, I don't give a shit about Chinese kung fu movies, and I hate spaghetti Westerns, though I like Clint personally, and I wouldn't go to a Japanese samurai movie if you paid me.'

"Now," Quentin said, "he was saying that for effect, you know. And, well, it had its effect, you know? It just wasn't romantic! The relationship [I don't think Quentin really said "relationship"] between a director and his star has to have a little romance to it!

Excerpted from The Kill Bill Diaryby David Carradine Copyright © 2006 by David Carradine. Excerpted by permission.
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