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grindhouseQuentin Tarantino's "Death Proof" is the ultimate chick flick.

Eff watching some pencil-thin blonde girl succeeding in the workplace but failing in love. We're over it. We want a hero.

The females of "Death Proof" (which is the second half of the Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez's "Grindhouse" double feature) are real heroes. Heroes of the badass, stunt-driving, lapdancing, car-stealing, sexy-as-hell (and have bodies that look like ours) variety to be specific.

"Death Proof" isn't about finding a man, it's about friendship. The kind of friendships that are so strong that you don't get mad when your girlfriend offers your lap-dance services up to a stranger -- for free, even! -- not only because have you probably done something equally a-holey to her in the past, but because you know that if the stranger isn't someone you'd want to see you naked anyway, she'll get you out of it.

And, it's Tarantino. You get all the cover-your-eyes-but-peek-between-your-fingers violence, sharp dialogue that resembles what you wish you sounded like, and a soundtrack that now permanently dominates your Pandora station list because it's just THAT GOOD.

If you haven't seen the movie, stop reading right now. But if you have, click through to the jump to remember just how empowering the film really is.