Review of Grindhouse (2007) by Kalen K — 02 Jan 2011

I'm really not sure why "Grindhouse" wasn't a bigger hit. The theatrical release was a bit truncated but probably still felt like a haul for audiences since it added up to 170 minutes of run time.

Not to mention that we were asked to abandon a set of characters halfway during our sitting and then get familiar with a completely new crew, not once but twice! Even upon first sitting, however, I didn't have an issue with it, given the fact that both segments were directed with tasteless verve, populated with over-the top performances and filled with evocative trappings of a long-extinct theater-going experience.

The first half of the film is dedicated to "Planet Terror", a gruesome ode to zombie films directed by Robert Rodriguez. Smokin'-hot Rose McGowan plays Cherry Darling, a strip...er, go-go dancer who walks off the job in hopes of bigger and better things.

Well, she certainly get her fill of the former when she reunites with mysterious ex-boyfriend El Wray (Freddy Rodriguez) at a dodgy barbecue joint owned by Jeff Fahey's less-then hygienic character J.

T. Unbeknownst to our unlikely protagonists, another drama of sorts is playing itself out on a military base not far away. Borderline bonkers Lt. Muldoon (Bruce Willis) is attempting to extort copious amounts of DC2 biochemical gas from scientist Abby ("Lost's" Naveen Andrews), who deliberately releases the stuff into the air rather than hand it over.

Needless to say, this agent (codenamed "Project Terror") causes residents in the nearby town to transfer into pox-laden homicidal zombies. Eventually El Wray and Cherry form a posse to investigate the military base, halt the outbreak and make it to safety.

"Planet Terror" is so completely over the top as to be almost out of critical sight. The performances are beyond broad and there's never any doubt as to whether or not any given character is good or evil.

The infection allows Rodriguez to go completely overboard with buckets of creatively sick, bloody and oozy splatter effects. Of particular note is the humorously unexpected fate of Abby and the drawn n' quartered demise of Tom Savini's character.

Although very little time or logic is devoted as to why the DC2 gas was developed or is being fought over so rabidly, it serves it's purpose as the film's raison d'ecccch-tra. The cast look like their having a blast with the complete lack of restraint.

I love Rose McGowan and even though there's a hint of self-consciousness in her performance she's just so matter-of-fact and unpretentious that she's totally charming. Plus when she gets outfitted with her ludicrous-yet-iconic sidearm (sideleg?) she instantly fulfills some sort of weird character arc that can only make sense in the director's fevered brain.

Freddy Rodriguez is appropriately cocky and when part of his secret skills are revealed (and conveniently left unexplained thanks to a handy "missing reel") he gleefully becomes walking mayhem.

Josh Brolin makes the best of his limited screen time by playing Dr. William Block as the sort of intimidating ogre that could only be found within the pages of an old E.C. horror comic. Marley Shelton turns in a bravura and twitchy performance as Block's long-suffering wife, especially when her own anesthetics are used against her.

Finally, one of my favorite actors of all time, Michael Biehn gets a chance to shine as J.T's estranged brother, Sheriff Hague. Why he isn't picking up more checks is beyond me. All told, "Planet Terror" is a no-hold's barred, pulpy, splatterfest that really embodies the grindhouse ethos while playing around with it's conventions.

In some ways Tarantino's segment isn't quite as loyal to the genre's low-brow origins but I think it ends up being a more original, substantial and rewarding film because of it. "Death Proof" first introduces us to three fun-loving gals: celebrity D.

J. "Jungle" Julia Lucai (Sydney Tamiia Poitier) and her two pals Shanna (Jordan Ladd) and Arlene (Vanessa Ferlito). They venture out to their favorite bar in downtown Austin Texas on Julia's birthday, unaware that they're being stalked by a psychotic named Stuntman Mike (Kurt Russell).

Mike is a mentally damaged relic from another epoch who seems to have gone off the deep end because everyone is too young to appreciate his glory days as a stuntman in the 70's and 80's. His rancor seems to have been channeled into the construction of a "death proof" car which keeps him perfectly safe during a crash but spells certain doom for passengers or anyone else in his path.

This is soundly demonstrated when Mike kills poor Pam (Rose McGowan) and then murders the other girls in a deliberate head-on collision. Fast forward a year or so later and we soon fear that history will repeat itself when Mike and his reconstituted vehicle target four new girls including chatty Abernathy (Rosario Dawson), cute but dim Lee (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), non-nonsense Kim (Tracie Thoms) and thrill-seeking Zoë (Zoë Bell).

Stuntman Mike confronts the gals during a dream-come-true muscle car test drive but soon realizes that he's bitten off more then he can chew. Soon the hunter becomes the hunted and it's insanely gratifying to watch Mike start whinging like a weepy little bitch when the gals prove to be too much for him to handle.

Their final revenge on him becomes the stuff of giddy triumph. Like I said, although "Death Proof's" pedigree is pretty lowbrow, Tarantino can't help but infuse the film with his usual artistic flourishes: markedly distinct characterizations, top-notch performances and snappin' dialogue.

As a result, the film rises above it's superficial bits and becomes more than just the sum of it's parts. He really tests the tolerance of the audience by killing off half the cast part way through, especially since we've come to know and accept the girls as our protagonists.

Since Tarantino goes though so much painstaking efforts to plant tons of subtle, throwaway character moments in the first half of the film, the lethal collision that follows gives us instant shades of Janet Leigh's shocking fate in "Psycho".

Naturally, when he then introduces four new gals we can't help but wonder if they'll be dispatched in a similar cavalier fashion. So, when they start to resist, we cheer for their deliverance as well as revenge for those already lost.

We all know how great Tarantino is with characterization, performance, dialogue and set-ups but did anyone really expect "Death Proof" to also include a car chase sequence that belongs in the same hallowed pantheon as "The French Connection", "The Italian Job" or "Ronin"? All I can say is "wow".

Thanks in large part to the heroic efforts of real-life stunt woman Zoë Bell (who spends most of the sequence splayed out on the bonnet of the out-of-control 1970 Dodge Challenger), the scene is high-octane, nail-biting and seems rife with genuine jeopardy.

Then, as if the two main "features" don't offer enough entertainment value, both are wrapped up like two sleazy gifts with a slew of vintage trappings. Intermissioned with some fake "previews of coming attractions" (my personal favorite: Eli Roth's "Thanksgiving"), title cards pimping sketchy mexican food to and a slinky animated panther warning us that what we're about to see is "restricted", "Grindhouse" is a giddy treat that reminds us of sneaking into movies while underage.

Watching "Grindhouse" makes the audience feel as if we're trying to get away with something. Leave it to nostalgic custodians Rodriguez and Tarantino for recognizing the appeal of this and following through on their vision, esoteric and niche as it may be.

Tilt: up.