Apr
11
2007
"Grindhouse" is a Fucking Riot
Last night, The P-Dog and I took in a screening of the film Grindhouse. We've got a tradition going of seeing Tarantino flicks together, and I gotta say, this one did not disappoint. For the uninitiated, Grindhouse is a double feature - one film each from directors Quentin Tarantino (Death Proof) and Robert Rodriguez (Planet Terror). Both films are violent, hilarious, cheesy, and ridiculously over-the-top tributes to 70's cinema, complete with fake movie trailers and missing film reels.
Planet Terror kicks off the show as a blood-soaked zombie/mutant movie. A military experiment of sorts goes awry and the whole thing turns into an outrageous - and gloriously pointless - tour-de-force of violence, gore, sex, and cheese. Rose McGowan plays Cherry, the film's unlikely heroine. She's a stripper who gets her right leg chewed off by a zombie. In the ensuing action, her boyfriend mounts an M16 c/w MP40 grenade launcher to her stump. The sex scene with her and her stump is priceless comedy. She proceeds to deal out death like it's business as usual, leading a band of zombie-killers on a 90 minute mopping-up rampage that is non-stop, edge-of-your-seat exhilarating. Parts of Planet Terror are outrageously gory (i.e. exploding heads and melting genitalia) but it's all done with a very self-aware wink-and-nod to the schlock and cheese of the 70's. It's impossible to take seriously. Like all good tributes, Planet Terror is equal parts homage and mockery. It's a fucking riot of a film.
Death Proof is Tarantino's contribution to Grindhouse. It's not nearly as gory as Planet Terror, but it's just as entertaining. Death Proof features Kurt Russel as "Stuntman Mike", the film's bad guy. He's a man bent on stalking and killing women with his car. The story is shockingly misogynistic at times, but women prevail in the end. For starters, Stuntman Mike does in four lovely young women by smashing into their car head on. He recovers from the crash and then chooses four more lasses, but it quickly becomes apparent that he has fucked with the wrong gals. One of the best car chases ever filmed follows, and it turns into a riveting tale of the devil getting his due. It's ridiculous and over-the-top, but captivating and supremely entertaining - especially the completely absurd ending, perhaps one of the best wrap-ups I've ever seen. Death Proof has all the hallmarks of a Tarantino flick: The "people talking in a car" scene, the "people talking in a diner" scene - all with crisp, captivating dialog. The soundtrack, as you'd expect, also kicks supreme ass. Death Proof is a nod to 70's "muscle car" flicks like Vanishing Point, and many more exploitation films. It goes the distance in terms of action and captivating characters.
Both Grindhouse films are heavy on the gimmickry - missing reels (during which key plot elements are, I assume, revealed), intentionally bad splicing, grainy film stock, melting film, 70's vintage "Restricted" warnings, and a few fake movie trailers (most of which are outrageously humorous). These things combined skirt very close to distraction, but they ultimately add to the experience. It's also very heavy on the testosterone, which would explain the nearly 20:1 spread of men to women in the audience. Grindhouse is a film whose grit and wit simply must be experienced on the big screen. In this era of polished, sanitary multi-plexes and polished, tightly-edited action films, Grindhouse is a very refreshing drop kick to the nads (albeit a very self-aware, contrived one). It's a reminder of, and a tribute to, a bygone era when movie-making and movie-going were down and dirty businesses. Above all else, Grindhouse is pure adrenaline - a raging, pointless, ridiculous, hilarious, captivating, blood-soaked entertainment. As The P-Dog noted afterwards: "What just happened? I feel like I was just at a party where everyone got rip-roaring drunk, stupid naked, and dropped acid - in that order." That's as good a review as anyone can muster, I think.
