Grindhouse Movie Review

Grindhouse is part campy gorefest and part muscle car action thriller strung together by some of the sickest faux movie trailers you’ll ever see in a theater. The whole thing’s as over the top and out of control as possible, and works perfectly as an homage to the schlocky ‘70s films you’d catch in a cheap double feature and laugh your way through (when you weren't too grossed out to watch). The fact Grindhouse is able to engage a 21st century audience is due to Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez’ uncanny ability to figure out just what it is moviegoers don’t know they’re dying to see.

The Trailers

Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz (the funniest film of '07) mastermind Edgar Wright delivers Don’t, a trailer jam-packed with clips of potential victims all about to do something every actor does in a generic horror film: go somewhere they have no business going. Wright also did the whole foreign film trailer bit perfectly by not allowing any of the actual actors in the film clips to speak (a technique used so audiences wouldn’t notice the accents and avoid the film). Rob Zombie’s in perfect form with Werewolf Women of the SS which includes a cameo by an A-list actor who’s obviously unafraid to look stupid. But the best trailer of the lot - and the one that really delivers on the whole grindhouse theme - stems from the super sick mind of Eli Roth. I missed parts of his Thanksgiving trailer because I had my eyes covered, but judging by the groans and catcalls from the preview audience Roth’s twist on the traditional days of thanks turned Thanksgiving into a holiday of horror on par with Halloween.

Robert Rodriguez’ Planet Terror

Plot, schmlot…who needs one when you’ve got Bruce Willis as a military dude hustling for a chemical agent from Lost’s Naveen Andrews who plays a biochemist dealing in black market goods. Add Fergie from the Black Eyed Peas as Marley Shelton’s lover, Josh Brolin as Shelton’s thermometer sucking, insanely jealous doctor husband, Jeff Fahey and Michael Biehn as brothers who help fight the spread of the zombie plague, and sexy babysitters (Rodriguez’ nieces) and Planet Terror doesn’t need a legitimate storyline to gross you out and make you beg for more.

But I left the best of Planet Terror to last. Rose McGowan vamps it up as a go go dancer who loses her leg to a pack of infected undeads. Joining up with her ex, a mysterious Rambo-type character all but able to leap tall buildings in a single bound (played by Freddy Rodriguez, an unlikely action hero if ever there was one), McGowan pouts, bats her eyelashes, and even sheds a few tears over lost love before leaving that girlie stuff behind to become one of the most impressive zombie fighters on film. With a machine gun attached to her stump, McGowan kicks butt while wearing nothing more than the most miniscule of outfits.

Quentin Tarantino’s Death Proof

I’ve heard from a lot of people who prefer Tarantino’s segment over Rodriguez’ but I’m just the opposite. Tarantino’s Death Proof is too talkie, too repetitive, and way too reminiscent of his earlier work to be entirely satisfying. That’s not to say there isn’t a big payoff, but the wait to get there really tested my patience.

After soaking up Rodriguez’ bloody Planet Terror and having a howling good time watching heads explode and body parts get ripped off in all their gruesome glory, Tarantino’s dialogue-heavy Death Proof is like being rudely awakened by having a bucket-load of icy cold water thrown in your face. Not that Tarantino’s Death Proof is a horrible film. It’s not. It’s just boring and drawn out compared to Rodriguez’ frenetically paced Planet Terror.

Tarantino loaded his film with pretty women – some in provocative attire - tossing dialogue at each other that, contrary to most of Tarantino’s writing, doesn’t come across as conversation but rather scripted lines. Tracie Thoms and Zoe Bell are not Samuel L Jackson and John Travolta; the cool vibe just isn’t there so their banter feels false. And Tarantino devotes way too much time developing a batch of female characters who prove, once we’ve figured out their stories, not to have been all that interesting in the first place. There's even a segment with one of the luscious ladies text messaging her would-be boyfriend that goes nowhere. And the point of that storyline was...?

But once the action moves from following females discussing their dysfunctional relationships to a full-on car chase film, Death Proof really revs up. Kurt Russell plays it slimy as a killer stuntman who uses his hot car to attract the ladies before using said auto to kill them off. Russell’s work alone is good enough to warrant a viewing of Death Proof, even though his victims of choice (with the exception of stuntwoman Bell who plays herself in the film) aren’t quite up to the task. In fact, one or two are so downright annoying it's a pleasure when they bite the dust.

The Bottom Line

With its missing reels, its dirty, scratched up look, changes in tone, color variations, and some deliberately (we hope) bad acting, Grindhouse does the job of making those who can remember spending hot summer nights munching on popcorn, sipping sodas and making out at drive-ins or real grindhouses (and only occasionally paying attention to what was on the screen) nostalgic for those long-gone days of horribly bad fun films. And for the batch of Tarantino/Rodriguez fans who haven’t a clue about double features or the old cheaply made movies of the 70s, Grindhouse provides a genuine look at what they missed out on.

Definitely not a film for the weak stomached - or those who can’t sit still for 3 hours and 11 minutes – if nothing else Grindhouse is a unique cinematic experience in this day and age of CGI effects and flashy, stylistic films that are more about looks than content. You have to sort of surrender yourself to the grindhouse idea before buying a ticket or you’ll never get what Tarantino and Rodriguez are up to. If you can do that, then the result is a mostly entertaining gore-filled treat that’s slow in parts but still worth the price of a ticket.

GRADE: B

Death Proof was written and directed by Quentin Tarantino. Robert Rodriguez wrote and directed Planet Terror. Grindhouse is rated R for strong graphic bloody violence and gore, pervasive language, some sexuality, nudity and drug use.