Grindhouse

Rated: R (for strong graphic bloody violence and gore, terror, pervasive language, some sexuality/nudity, and drug use)
Runtime: 191 minutes
Written and Directed By: Robert Rodriguez (Planet Terror) and Quentin Tarantino (Death Proof)
Starring: Rose McGowan, Freddy Rodriguez, Michael Biehn, Kurt Russel, Rosario Dawson, Zoe Bell and too many others to mention

Ever since they broke onto the scene back in 1992, taking Sundance, audiences and critics alike by a pleasantly unexpected storm (maelstrom, really) with their hard-hitting, incredibly volatile, low-budget genre-benders Reservoir Dogs and El Mariachi, Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez (respectively) have deservedly earned the status of cinematic elite in my book, ranking amongst the few directors whose work, if consisting of nothing more than filming the phone book for two hours straight, I’d defend to the grave. Hot off the success of Kill Bill (Tarantino) and Sin City (Rodriguez), the guys opted to re-team for their latest endeavor (the two have repeatedly collaborated – Tarantino guest directed a segment on Sin City, Rodriguez scored Kill Bill Volume 2, and they both worked on From Dusk Till Dawn and Four Rooms). Thus, Grindhouse was born.

The film is a daring, testosterone-laden experiment executed to staggering perfection. The two cinematic mavericks wanted to recreate the classic Grindhouse double features seedy rundown theaters would offer in the 70s (the term was coined as the theater would constantly “grind” out B-movie double-bills through the projector, often poor in quality, horribly scratched and missing frames, usually featuring zombies, women in prison, mutants or any form of schlock that was chock-a-block full of copious amounts of sex, sleaze and gore). At over three hours, it’s really more of an experience than a film – composed of two feature-length flicks from each director, and a bevy of fake trailers for non-existent coming attractions.

First up is Rodriguez’s Planet Terror, a charismatically gruesome zombie romp where anything and everything goes… such as our go-go dancer heroine, Cherry (Rose McGowan), having her leg gnawed off by the infected undead only to eventually receive an automatic gun/rocket launcher in lieu of a prosthetic. Rodriguez is in full-form here, offering some of his most unabashedly self-indulgent, visually magnificent, utterly entertaining (and best) work. It’s like some of the best elements of the work of George Romero, Lucio Fulci, and the old Roger Corman flicks met Die Hard in a sort of kamikaze cinematic apocalypse. The story is fast and fun, populated with wildly eccentric characters, sharp dialogue, and loads of overstated camp. The action pieces are deftly choreographed vignettes of exaggerated chaos. The actors have to be having the time of their lives, as every performance relishes in a sort of retrograde theatrical melodrama, never breaking the faux seriousness in the surrounding overwhelming absurdity. And Rodriguez’s cinematography and editing have reached a peak. I don’t know if it’s the restraint-free nature of the genre, getting to collaborate with his buddy Tarantino again, or some really spiffy drugs… but whatever has induced his current cinematic state of no-holds-barred nirvana, I hope it sticks because the guy has managed to make his talents gel in a genuinely unique way that he has yet to previously fully accomplish.

Tarantino’s offering, Death Proof, is a twisted slasher flick where a guy named Stuntman Mike (a delightfully charismatic Kurt Russel) uses his unstoppable stunt car to track down and slaughter young girls. This flick is a beast of a different nature. It genuinely looks and feels yanked right out of the 70s, with that vibe indicative of such controversial classics as Last House on the Left or Thriller: A Cruel Picture (despite completely different subject matter). It feels raw, uninhibited. As per usual, Tarantino’s dialogue is razor-sharp and machine-gun quick. Not his best script overall, but he’s managed to pen some of his most astute conversational dialogue. There’s something mystic about his writing – when the characters talk, you REALLY listen. After Kill Bill and now this, he’s solidified his action direction at bravura status. His execution of the chase sequence is awe-inducing. Even considering The French Connection, Bullitt and Ronin, Death Proof harbors what might be the greatest chase scene I’ve seen (with shameless homage paid to Vanishing Point – it even uses the same car). Tarantino shot everything practically, with no CG-effects or frame-rate alteration to the film. Kurt Russel did most of his own stunt driving, Zoe Bell (one of the girls) is really on the hood of the car (thinly attached) holding on for dear life as the cars collide and race down the road at 90 mph before one of them slams through a billboard. It’s sort of a slow-build towards this gripping finale, but it’s well worth the wait to see something so edge-of-your-seat harrowing. This even surpasses the first crash sequence mid-way through, which is repeated from multiple perspectives. And I initially wanted to dub that Tarantino’s best directed sequence (ALMOST!).

The trailers that precede each film in Grindhouse are priceless. With offerings from Rodriguez, Rob Zombie (The Devil’s Rejects), Eli Roth (Hostel), and Edgar Wright (Shaun of the Dead), these little nuggets of exploitation bliss are worth the price of admission themselves.

It’s actually sort of hard to review and rate Grindhouse. It’s something you will either unapologetically love or profusely hate, depending if the material is your cup of tea. I can promise this much – both directors have crafted something unique – a tribute to films they love, infused with a distinct sense of artistry and cinematic bravado that is wholly and undeniably fun. You won’t find anything like quite like this even if you did a customized double feature night at home. See it in the theater for the experience. You enter, sit down, the film starts to roll and BOOM – you’re a kid again, sneaking into some rundown theater to watch movies your mom forbid you to see (making them all the more exciting). A fitting homage to vintage exploitation cinema, this is a guilt-free guilty pleasure that I can’t recommend highly enough.

My Rating: A