GrindhouseThey say scars tell a story, and are the mark of a survivor. Grindhouse is a movie that recalls a certain style of filmmaking, where thrills and chills put butts in seats, and takes its name from the "grindhouses" where specific theaters would showcase exploitation films, cheap horror, or other flicks. Ask any film goer about what kind of film classifies as a "guilty pleasure" for them, and you're sure to get different answers. I suspect that were you to ask the dynamic duo--Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino--behind this ambitious send up to this style of film, and one suspects how they would answer based on Grindhouse.
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I was tempted to list both entries in Grindhouse as separate pages--those pages being the two movies that bookend the experience that is Grindhouse: Planet Terror and Death Proof; but to truly get the most out of this experience, I cannot stress enough that watching them back to back with the faux trailers interjected is the only way to do it. And while not a format snob (nothing wrong with that if you are), this movie was the first blu-ray I ever purchased, and with good reason: it presents the movie as it was delivered in the theaters...the only thing missing was the cola syrup sticking to the bottom of my shoes. Grindhouse may clock in at 191 minutes, but it's a constant roller-coaster of exciting action, clever dialogue, and jam-packed with great talent. The first feature--Planet Terror--is a wild, exciting zombie flick, with tons of explosions, gruesome bloodspray, and sexy go-go dancing by our lead, Cherry Darling (Rose McGowan). The weathered and worn, deteriorated look becomes a stylistic device. Cherry Darling becomes literally too hot for the film to handle, as the stock burns during her sweltering go-go dance intro and later during a romantic scene with her ex-beau, Ray (Freddy Rodriguez). This way of having the subject matter directly impact the film is even reminiscent of other movies, even arthouse fare like Ingmar Bergman's Persona. Robert Rodriguez lays on the camp charm, to the croon of a hard-rockin' saxophone and zooms that would feel right at home in a spaghetti western. Planet Terror is locked and loaded to bursting with playful sex appeal, cringeworthy splatter and gore, and an intentionally laughable plot, all of which contribute to that "B-movie" charm. But the movie is delightfully self-aware of these tropes, lending itself to moments of witty comedy. The ridiculous dialogue delivered with dry sincerity by a cast that is no stranger to cult classics--including greats like Michael Biehn, Bruce Willis, and even Tom Savini--really sells the "sleaze appeal". Along with the casting, the John Carpenter-esque musical score roots Planet Terror firmly in the vein of Eighties-era horror movies. This first half of Grindhouse oozes appeal, and is host to one of the best sight gags I've ever seen in a movie. Two words: "Missing Reel". Planet Terror thrives on embracing the stylings of ultraviolent, action/horror, and the result is a colorful--saturated, really--blend of comedy and gore.
Between the two main features of Grindhouse--as well as preceding Planet Terror--are a handful of phony trailers, crafted by fellow filmmakers like Edgar Wright, Eli Roth, and Rob Zombie. In this, Grindhouse feels like a filmmaker's party, and these trailers make up the background action--individually seeming inconsequential, but together making up a great atmoshere. The finale of Grindhouse, is Death Proof, a knowing and witty interpretation of the action movie that blows its shoe-string budget on a massive car chase and is an homage to the stuntman (or stuntwoman) from the "all or nothing days" of Hollywood yore. As the flipside of the "grindhouse" experience, Death Proof wears the mask of a film made with cut rate production, with dialogue driving scene after scene until the big thunderous finale; fortunately, with auteur Tarantino at the helm, the discourse remains both real and engaging. The climactic car chase is the big payoff, with real people smashing real cars; Zoe Bell (playing herself) appears as the literal centerpiece in one of the most tension-fraught car stunts I can recall on film, belonging among the greats like William Friedkin. Quentin Tarantino once again proves that he is a master of smart writing, complex characters, and a master of conjuring up a tableau of action to a soundtrack that captures the spirit of his story unlike anyone else. A literal jukebox at the bar featured prominently in the first half of Death Proof--where Tarantino himself plays the bartender and owner--pumps out neglected rock classics primarily from the Sixties and Seventies; the effect between the soundtrack and the style of the film--not to mention the predominance of classic muscle cars--suggests a setting in the past, although artifacts from the future like cellphones make their presence known. Surprisingly, Death Proof allows for some intimate moments between moments of drunken revelry and riparte, such as when "Jungle" Julia Lucai (Sydney Tamiia Poitier) sends messages to an absentee crush, and the impending sense of nervousness and anxiety which is felt--rightly so--by Butterfly (Vanessa Ferlito). Death Proof may give the conceit that it is a "car movie"; and while this is also true, Death Proof also excels at keeping its audience guessing--take the film's premature climax that feels like a nod to Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho. The big crash is a tense and nervous experience of impending devastation, made wholly unnerving when set to the pumping British pop stylings of Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick & Tich's "Hold Tight". Few characters embody the disarming mystique of "Stuntman Mike" (Kurt Russell) in his inspired performance of a man out of sync with time, and his "death proof" car. One of the defining moments of Death Proof--and Grindhouse as a whole, for that matter--is when Stuntman Mike is telling a group of twenty-something girls at the bar about his stuntman career, citing several shows and actors they clearly don't recognize. Really, that's part of the charm, that kind of vintage aesthetic which courses through the pathways of this love letter to the classics--not necessarily the widely-recognized ones, but the ones that are precious to us.
Recommended for: Fans of rapid-fire action/comedy/horror by two of the most entertaining filmmakers ever. Also, Rose McGowan with a machine-gun leg...that you gotta see.
Between the two main features of Grindhouse--as well as preceding Planet Terror--are a handful of phony trailers, crafted by fellow filmmakers like Edgar Wright, Eli Roth, and Rob Zombie. In this, Grindhouse feels like a filmmaker's party, and these trailers make up the background action--individually seeming inconsequential, but together making up a great atmoshere. The finale of Grindhouse, is Death Proof, a knowing and witty interpretation of the action movie that blows its shoe-string budget on a massive car chase and is an homage to the stuntman (or stuntwoman) from the "all or nothing days" of Hollywood yore. As the flipside of the "grindhouse" experience, Death Proof wears the mask of a film made with cut rate production, with dialogue driving scene after scene until the big thunderous finale; fortunately, with auteur Tarantino at the helm, the discourse remains both real and engaging. The climactic car chase is the big payoff, with real people smashing real cars; Zoe Bell (playing herself) appears as the literal centerpiece in one of the most tension-fraught car stunts I can recall on film, belonging among the greats like William Friedkin. Quentin Tarantino once again proves that he is a master of smart writing, complex characters, and a master of conjuring up a tableau of action to a soundtrack that captures the spirit of his story unlike anyone else. A literal jukebox at the bar featured prominently in the first half of Death Proof--where Tarantino himself plays the bartender and owner--pumps out neglected rock classics primarily from the Sixties and Seventies; the effect between the soundtrack and the style of the film--not to mention the predominance of classic muscle cars--suggests a setting in the past, although artifacts from the future like cellphones make their presence known. Surprisingly, Death Proof allows for some intimate moments between moments of drunken revelry and riparte, such as when "Jungle" Julia Lucai (Sydney Tamiia Poitier) sends messages to an absentee crush, and the impending sense of nervousness and anxiety which is felt--rightly so--by Butterfly (Vanessa Ferlito). Death Proof may give the conceit that it is a "car movie"; and while this is also true, Death Proof also excels at keeping its audience guessing--take the film's premature climax that feels like a nod to Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho. The big crash is a tense and nervous experience of impending devastation, made wholly unnerving when set to the pumping British pop stylings of Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick & Tich's "Hold Tight". Few characters embody the disarming mystique of "Stuntman Mike" (Kurt Russell) in his inspired performance of a man out of sync with time, and his "death proof" car. One of the defining moments of Death Proof--and Grindhouse as a whole, for that matter--is when Stuntman Mike is telling a group of twenty-something girls at the bar about his stuntman career, citing several shows and actors they clearly don't recognize. Really, that's part of the charm, that kind of vintage aesthetic which courses through the pathways of this love letter to the classics--not necessarily the widely-recognized ones, but the ones that are precious to us.
Recommended for: Fans of rapid-fire action/comedy/horror by two of the most entertaining filmmakers ever. Also, Rose McGowan with a machine-gun leg...that you gotta see.