Tuesday, April 17, 2007

So I waited to see Grindhouse, because, you know, I was expecting huge crowds over the Easter weekend when it debuted. Silly me. Grindhouse hasn't been the succes that pretty much everyone was expecting it to be. There are so many theories going around, including the running time of three hours, the fact that its release weekend was Easter, and so on. Those are probably all right. But Grindhouse should have had a better opening. It should have had a bigger audience.

In case you've been living under a rock for the past few months, Grindhouse is the pet project of Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriquez, a double-feature that harkens back to the 70s and early 80s when schlocky movies played in grimy theaters in urban centers, films that were shot on the cheap, with sex, guns, and gore. The scripts were usually pretty bad, the acting worse. But the taboo of what was on screen usually - and I stress usually - made up for it.

Rodriguez and Tarantino created their own grindhouse movies, Planet Terror and Death Proof, respectively. Between the two, I preferred Death Proof. It seemed like Tarantino crafted a real grindhouse style film. Not that there's anything wrong with Planet Terror, but there's a bit at the end that would probably exceed the budget constraints of a real grindhouse picture. You could argue that by using such high list talent like Rose McGowan, Kurt Russel and the like that the filmmakers have already gone beyond the constraints of the "genre." But I would disagree, mainly because that's not the point. The filmmakers seem to be trying to recreate something they loved.

Or it would seem that way. It was mentioned in a review - I forget which one - that Rodriguez's film seemed like it was made by a guy who had read a lot about grindhouse films and then made one, whereas the Tarantino offering was a real grindhouse film. I don't know, mainly because I grew up while the grindhouses were disappearing. I never saw a real grindhouse film in a theater. Still, Planet Terror seemed closer to something Troma would put out for most of its running time, which is perfect for a grindhouse cinema, until the end, which, as I wrote above, seemed to be out-of-the-grindhouse in terms of budgetary constraints.

Death Proof on the other hand, was certainly the better of the two, and deserved top billing. It's basically two stories, both starring Stuntman Mike, a killer with a car. He goes after young women, God only knows why, but that's not the point. I wanted to see car chases and dead bodies. And that's what Tarantino gives us. Twice.

What's great about Death Proof are the car chases. Tarantino knows how to shoot one, which surprised me. The second chase is the better of the two, with Zoe Bell hanging on the hood of the Dodge Challenger. She's not the greatest actress in the world (if she had more roles in front of the camera as an actress I think she could get much better and be a decent action actress), but she's excellent as the stunt woman she needs to be for the role. It was edge-of-your-seat excitement! I loved that car chase... better than most of the shit Hollywood's been putting out for years, not the least because it was real, not CGI bullshit.

I'm going to cut this short. I havent' slept well in the last few nights for various and sundry reasons. Let's just say that Grindhouse kicked a lot of ass, and you should go and fucking see it if you haven't.

1 comment:

wa11z said...

Grindhouse fucking rules!!