Back when movies didn't make a
statement, but instead exploited every adrenaline surge they could
possibly muster, the Grindhouse cinemas churned out horrid gore,
cliched characters, sexploitation for no purpose other than to
objectify women, and complete unbelievability in drama. They were
exactly what you expected and the theaters were noisy, smelly, and
the equipment always faulty. This wasn't for your first-run movies or
even for your Oscar Contenders held over for another month. This was
back to back gratuitous adrenaline for those of stunted maturity.
From missing reels to stretched film to spots on the lens and burned sections, it really recreated everything one would expect out of a place where missing a 20 minute section had no effect on plot nuance. Besides that, this film was a veritable treasure of cameo appearances from every actor and actress that makes you say, "I know that dude, he was in . . . " or "I've seen that hot chick before." You know, all those actors that you know but don't know the names of, like that guy from Lost, Sayeed; or the guy who was the Hispanic undertaker on Six Feet Under. Amazingly well-cast, it looked like everyone was in it for the fun - the over-the-top ridiculousness of a gore-fest.
Comparing the two films, however, brings me to a bit of a deeper insight. Rodriguez wrote and directed Planet Terror, a movie about a biological weapons release that threatens destruction of the human race by turning everyone into flesh-eating zombies. Tarantino wrote and directed Death Proof about a stuntman turned serial killer who uses his car as a murder weapon. The both have their strengths, and they both belong in the double feature for different reasons. Planet Terror is soaked in blood and lacks nothing in gratuitous gunplay, down to Rose McGowan's leg amputation and machine gun prosthetic. There are no surprises in this film, it's exactly what the Grindhouse genre is all about, in fact so much so that I feared that this was a movie which would inspire a market flood of resurgent movies. Freddie Rodriguez as the gun toting hero was a colorful, but only hinted at, secret life. (he's the dude from Six Feet Under)
Tarantino's film was a psychological thriller as much as a grindhouse. He spends a lot of time setting up Kurt Russell's character, Stuntman Mike, and creating a semi-believable obsession and a reputation for the viewer as a bad-ass, but then blows the audience away was the expected turned unexpected, twisted and snapped around like a drama whip, finally ending in true Grindhouse form. Wow. It was my favorite of the two.
Not for the timid or squeamish. Not for the critic or the connoisseur. Perfect for the rest of us.
- CV Rick
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