Quentin Tarantino's feverish homage to the cherished exploitation experiences of his youth may be the world's first movie-as-mix tape. Not a slapdash party tape with a bunch of popular stuff strung carelessly together, but a loving compendium of Proustian images and melodies, the more obscure the better, meticulously juxtaposed and segued into each other so they evoke an integrated memory of endless pulp highs savored in the smoky haze of grindhouses and darkened basements. If your sensibilities are in line with Tarantino's, the result is sheer sleaze Nirvana. In Vol. 1, a hugely pregnant professional assassin, code-named Black Mamba (Uma Thurman), is attacked and le...