It's been a bit of a lean time for us car fans at the movies of late. Apart from some great chase sequences in the Bourne films, there's been little to get the petrol in our veins racing while we sit in the dark popping popcorn and slurping on a bucket of Coke.

Forget the risible remakes of Gone in 60 Seconds and The Italian Job and the trying-too-hard-to-be-seriousness of the first Fast and the Furious film (let's not even bother with the crappy sequels).

No, if you're a fan of cars in movies, go and see the latest Quentin Tarantino movie, Death Proof.

Now I'm a big fan of Tarantino, but the so-so reviews meant that I wasn't that bothered about seeing it, until it was the nominated film of the dads' film club I belong to (a group of us who occasionally escape the wife and kids for an evening to watch 'men's films'). I'm glad I did.

Apart from the bodacious women on show, the main reason for going to see the film is the unapologetic homage to films from the early 70s, especially the classic Vanishing Point. Muscle cars abound, from the Chevy Nova driven by the psychotic, misogynistic Stuntman Mike at the start of the movie to the twin Dodges - Charger and Challenger - in the climactic chase sequence that seems to go on forever (in a good way).

Listening to those V8s roaring away in anger and watching the cars careening about was a real treat, bringing to mind the classic chases of Bullitt, The French Connection and Ronin. As I watched it, I sat there thinking, 'Why don't they make more proper films like this any more?'

But even better was seeing them playing freeway pinball with crappy modern American cars. My heart always leaps a bit when I see a Jeep or a minivan trashed. It's a service to humanity to see the products of modern American car design consigned to lumps of scrap metal. It's all they're good for.

Now where can I get my Passat death-proofed?