In virtually any configuration, Kill Bill’s place in the cinematic firmament — and in pop culture at large — has long been certified.

Uma Thurman’s Bride, Lucy Liu’s O-Ren Ishii, Sonny Chiba’s swordmaker Hattori Hanzo, Tomoyasu Hotei’s “Battle Without Honor or Humanity” and many more elements constantly inspire and influence, or are otherwise impersonated, sampled or copied. Such a footprint (so to speak) comes as little surprise: Quentin Tarantino’s writing and directing is so rich and vivid that audiences have much to discover from even the tenth, or fiftieth watch. Surely a longer version would be even better, right?

As a person whose viewings probably count closer to 50, I’m not sure — at least in the way it’s being presented in 2025. Dec. 5 marks the official release of Kill Bill: The Whole Bloody Affair, a mythical extended cut that reunites the separately-released volumes 1 and 2 and adds almost 25 minutes of material. Gratifying as it may be to see the film on the big screen almost 20 years after its initial release, Tarantino’s bloody, operatic tale of revenge felt so expertly assembled in its original incarnation that the new footage cannot help but feel a little bit superfluous.

With His Uncut Version, Tarantino Overdelivers On A Decades-Old Promise

The fact that part of this new storytelling involves a partnership with Fortnite, reported earlier this year, will likely trigger “get off my lawn” responses from many (admittedly, myself included) longtime fans. Yet, Tarantino not only approved but was actively involved in that section’s creation, drawing the story and its new character, Gogo Yubari’s sister Yuki, from his original script. Admittedly, this only screens in theaters after the proper end of the film, so it’s the sort of canon that you can pretty easily ignore.

On the other hand, the filmmaker’s interconnected “Taratinoverse” only invites you to think about how it fits into the multi-chapter story he’d originally written — and even there it feels unnecessary. Supposedly this showdown with Yuki was to take place after the Bride defeated Vernita Green (Vivica A. Fox); the script’s nimble leaps forwards and backwards in time notwithstanding, how meaningful would it have felt in 2003 to watch the sister of a secondary character seek revenge if we hadn’t even met her sibling? Even knowing now who Gogo is, the sequence doesn’t elicit any great feelings. (That might also be because one of the spectators of their suburban battle is an anthropomorphic banana.)

But in Tarantino’s nonlinear style, I may be getting ahead of myself. (On the first go-round with the film it’s easy to miss that O-Ren’s name is already crossed off the Bride’s list, long before we see the two of them, her lieutenants and the Crazy 88s square off in the House of Blue Leaves). Without its post-credit Fortnite digression, The Whole Bloody Affair is as much of a masterpiece as it was as two parts of a whole — just one that’s slightly overstuffed. And if only for those who haven’t ever seen the film, it makes a thrilling improvement by removing a key line of dialogue, in the process preserving a massive, emotional surprise that occurs during the Bride’s final confrontation with Bill.

The other changes are fun, but not quite as impactful: the showdown at the House of Blue Leaves is now in color rather than in black and white, and throws in a few extra dismemberments to really drive home the carnage. The most intriguing change is the expansion of O-Ren Ishii’s origin story, which was drawn by venerated Ghost in the Shell animation house Production I.G. during the original making of the film. This footage is truly new — it didn’t even appear in the celluloid copy of The Whole Bloody Affair Tarantino has occasionally screened over the last decade and a half at his Los Angeles theater, the New Beverly. (Should that cut ever be released, it would probably become this fan’s favorite version.)

It unfortunately does not make its transition to contemporary big screen image resolution standards as well as the footage that Lionsgate, the film’s current rights holders, have preserved over the years in Kill Bill’s various home video upgrades. It’s possible this material will look better on a smaller screen, but it ends up looking slightly unfinished in theaters. In the larger context of the film, the story it tells also feels less essential, focusing on O-Ren’s pursuit of Pretty Riki, the ruthless henchman of her parents’ murderer, Boss Matsumoto. Better, but not unlike the Fortnite footage, it’s “cool” but not materially additive.

What lingers after watching the film in its most complete form, however, is the fact that it’s so thoughtfully written, brilliantly constructed and (especially) beautifully acted. One imagines that breaking the film in two may have scuttled its chances of earning Uma Thurman a Best Actress nomination, but 20-plus years on, she deserves that recognition more than ever, conveying the character’s strength, resilience and determination, but also her incredible vulnerability. The character’s motherhood, lost and regained, is more than a narrative device to add drama; it’s a powerful, transformational force that lends complexity to a character who could have been — and remarkably, would still have been fully interesting as — a conduit for and composite of the cinematic influences that inspired Tarantino.

Thuman isn’t the only one who delivers a master-class performance. Liu makes O-Ren much more than a mob boss with a chip on her shoulder, and as Bill’s brother Budd, the late Michael Madsen exudes a defeated world-weariness that underscores the character’s acceptance of his trailer-park fate after inflicting so much harm. Carradine may never have had a better role than the one Tarantino gives him here, and he makes a meal out of it, injecting charisma, sincerity and sly humor into a character who needs to be monolithic for audiences to believe not only that he’s created a violent empire, but fully enthralled the luminous and deadly Beatrix Kiddo so much that she’s as devastated by defeating him as she is relieved.

Ultimately, this version of the film contains those multitudes as well. By itself, Kill Bill marked a kind of cinematic pastiche that had seldom been done on such an ambitious scale — one that requires not just a tremendous level of skill but fearless bravado to pull off. Virtually every element of it borrows from something else, but those bits of ephemera (big or small) are now synonymous with this film instead of their original sources. Yet the glue is Thurman as its star, and she and Tarantino as its co-creators.

In 2003 or 2025, it is a singular cinematic experience — one that’s thrilling, funny, surprising, gory, fantastical, humanistic, heartbreaking, sweet and much more, often at the same time. Now that this version has been released, its legion of fans will only grow — and at any age or level of interest, they’ll be able forever to watch the version that resonates most strongly with them. Undeniably, Kill Bill is one of the most entertaining and influential films of the past 25 years; without these particular additions, it’s a 10/10. If The Whole Bloody Affair reminds moviegoers of its many virtues, or introduces audiences to them for the first time, who am I to complain?