Here is a public service: Do not think about eating before, during or even after seeing Grindhouse. We will discuss the why later, but let’s get back on track. “Grindhouse” is an American term which refers to the theater that plays B-grade exploitation films non-stop…
A common characteristic of grindhouse films is the fact that they rely more on sensationalism and hype than quality and artistry. Oddly, Rodriguez’s and Tarantino’s ode to the genre is morphed into high-quality double features which are full of nudity, sex, violence and comedy, which works to our advantage.
Planet Terror is the first of the two films and it is, in simple words, a zombie gross-fest. A mysterious infection that causes people’s skin to break out in disgusting boils and go on flesh-eating frenzies has stricken a Texan city. Local heroes take up arms, fight the dead walkers and escape the hellish contamination. Aside from the explosions and the shootouts, one of the highlights of this segment is the bodacious Rose McGowan. I never really knew Rose that well… I always referred to her as “the hot chick who got caught in the garage door in Scream” or “the hot chick who kept whining like a bitch in Phantoms.” Replacing her right leg with a machine gun on-screen is one career move that will surely give Charlton Heston a boner.
Death Proof is a slower, relatively more peaceful yet more boring low-budget film about a madman who uses his car both to scope out and kill his victims. Usually Tarantino’s writing is known for its cool and hilarious dialogues. However, he busted on this one. One spine-shivering violent head-on car collision and an amazingly shot car chase are bridged by long periods of uninteresting unintelligible girl bullsh*t. And not necessarily a memorable moment, but it’s also worth seeing Kurt Russell crying like a schoolgirl who is pretending to be Kurt Russell in a pink skirt.
Grindhouse wasn’t supposed to squarely slap you with a couple of oldie exploits, but it was also to take a chunk of the 1970’s atmosphere and rub it all over your face after sticking it up your ass. The transformation was realized when a lame “Coming Prevues” banner came up accompanied with soft-core porn music announcing the release of fake future (or past?) B movies. These trailers will make you laugh your ass off and, at the same time, choke on your own vomit, hence the first-paragraph recommendation not to eat any crap, including food.
Grindhouse movies are supposed to be extremely low-quality and lacking, yet underneath the cheesy exterior of these two movies lie high-quality filmmaking only the likes of those who brought us Pulp Fiction and Sin City can muster. If it weren’t for the boring dialogues of Death Proof, this double-feature would’ve been a masterpiece.