2007 / 191 Minutes / R
Reviewed by Dale Nauertz

The way I understand it, back in the Seventies there were crappy little movie theaters that did nothing but play exploitive B-movies and gory horror films. The films were usually in horrible shape (scratches, frames missing, bad sound, etc.) and the theaters weren’t much better (sticky floors, seats falling apart, dilapidated screens, located in a rough part of town, etc.). These theaters were called grindhouses and, I take it, existed mainly in urban areas. The rural areas had their own equivalent: the drive-in. If they would have called this movie drive-in, the basic idea would have been the same.

Apparently Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez grew up watching these kinds of exploitive, trashy yet entertaining films at these dismal theaters and had such fond memories of the experience that they wished to share it with the rest of us, even though most filmgoers are too young to remember such a thing. Thus, the film “Grindhouse” was born.

“Grindhouse” is an interesting experiment. It’s a double feature of gory, violent and gleefully debauched films packaged together with a few fake trailers for other films that would have been shown in the sleazy, grindhouse environment. Obviously, these films are not ripe with meaningful character interaction and thoughtful insight into the human condition. They are, however, filled with exploding bodies, gruesome scenarios, blood and very, very dark moments. However, since the filmmakers at the helm are Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino, the films are much, much better than they have any right to be…well, at least Rodriguez’s is.

The first film in this dirty double feature is “Planet Terror”. It’s got the usual bunch of sinister army dudes unleashing the standard green gas that turns people into grotesque zombie-monster things. The infected people in this film look worse than any zombie you’ve seen in your life. They’re covered with disgusting sores and pustules, oozing icky gunk and they sometimes resort to spurting blood on their victims. Needless to say, they must be killed, and in the most violent possible manner. A handful of humans manage to avoid the infection and fight back. They are led by a doctor (Marley Shelton), a sheriff (Michael Biehn, a welcome sight), an ass-kicking, heavily-armed tow truck driver with a mysterious past (Freddy Rodriguez) and a go-go dancer (Rose McGowan). “Planet Terror” has what I’ve wanted in so many monster films in the past: namely action. The monsters are killed right and left in this movie, and in some gleefully disgusting ways. Entrails explode, eyeballs (and other balls) pop, goo and gore stream from the screen in such volume that you half expect to get some on you. The humans don’t fare any better, of course. A lot of regular people meet very grisly ends. But the people do fight back, and they take a lot of casualties on the other side. Also, Rodriguez manages to work in a lot of interesting back story and character work among the carnage. He’s a wonderful, entertaining filmmaker, and he seems to just keep getting better. “Planet Terror” starts at full speed and never lets up. I may not have always known what the hell was going on, and sometimes the film was too damned weird for its own good, but everything got explained by the end and I thoroughly enjoyed myself, despite the occasional lame coincidence or dumb passage of dialogue.

After seeing “Planet Terror”, Tarantino’s “Death Proof” seems irritatingly talky. It’s the story of an evil man named Stuntman Mike (played with gusto by Kurt Russell) who enjoys stalking beautiful, young women and then gruesomely dispatching them with his muscle car. It’s a great idea for a movie and, when the movie actually concerns itself with Russell and his attempts to kill nubile young women, it IS a great movie. The main problem with this film is the endless amount of chatter. We meet the intended victims, we KNOW they’re intended as victims, and then we follow them around all night watching them drink and smoke pot and talk and talk and talk and talk. It’s sort of like watching “Dazed and Confused” and knowing that all of the stoners and partiers are doomed to die a horrible death. Except that “Dazed and Confused” had fun, relatable dialogue. The dialogue here isn’t even interesting, like most Tarantino dialogue, it’s just friggin’ endless. By the time Kurt Russell killed the first batch of women, I was actually rooting for him. At least when they were dead they would probably shut the hell up. Quentin has been increasingly in love with his own writing for years. Some people perceived this as the problem with the “Kill Bill” films (though I have no problem with the “Kill Bill” films, thinking they achieved a kind of sleazy perfection) but this overindulgence on Quentin’s part is more glaringly obvious here. These characters talk and talk and talk about the most mundane shit imaginable and it isn’t clever or particularly interesting. Sure, this is how people actually talk much of the time, but it doesn’t mean these are people you want to hang out with. Quentin also shoehorns a lot of pop culture references into these scenes, but the references don’t add anything to the story being told. Quentin should spend less time talking about other movies and more time actually MAKING a movie.

Just about the time you’re ready to walk out, however, “Death Proof” proves itself just as relentlessly entertaining as “Planet Terror”. Kurt Russell stalks a new batch of hotties and then…well, things don’t work out as you’d expect. There are some truly amazing car stunts in this part of the story. There’s a sequence in particular with one car trying to run another car off the road while a woman is strapped to the hood of that car, screaming her head off. This sequence is one of the most suspenseful things in recent cinematic memory, and it’s made all the more suspenseful when you realize that stuntwoman Zoe Bell is actually there, on the hood of that car, doing things that seem damn near impossible. There seems to be no CGI here, folks. This is the real deal and, damn, have I missed actual stunt work. By the time “Death Proof” came to an end, I was giddy with excitement and perched at the edge of my seat. I don’t quite forgive Tarantino for wasting so much of my time near the beginning of the film, but I didn’t mind so much.

If not for all of the talky bullshit in “Death Proof” this movie wouldn’t feel anywhere near three hours long. Half of “Death Proof” is full throttle excitement and all of “Planet Terror” is gleefully violent fun (where else can you see a woman using a machine gun as a prosthetic limb). I haven’t even mentioned the fake movie trailers, mostly because they’re too fun to spoil (keep an eye open for one particularly deranged celebrity cameo). “Grindhouse” isn’t a great movie. Tarantino needs to extract himself from his own ass (then again, I think Kubrick was often guilty of this as well) and Rodriguez needs to learn how to punch up his dialogue. But when a film puts Michael Biehn and Kurt Russell back on the big screen and provides this much pure, sleazy entertainment value, a person can’t complain too much. “Grindhouse” isn’t perfect, but it is unique, fun, giddily enthusiastic and energetic. It’s truly one-of-a-kind and, in this day and age, that just might be enough.

[tags]Grindhouse, Planet Terror, Death Proof, B-movies, horror films, Quentin Tarantino, Robert Rodriguez, double feature, Rose McGowan, Michael Biehn, Kurt Russell, car stunts, Movie Review, Dale Nauertz[/tags]

This entry was posted on Tuesday, April 10th, 2007 at 6:52 pm and is filed under Dale's Reviews. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.