The term "grindhouse" is attributed to a style of films that were regularly
churned out in the 1970s that were predicated on delivering exploitative, sensationalist
subject matter in order to entertain a defined audience looking for such fare.
After the Hollywood production code's demise, such films were commonplace in the seedier
theaters in urban areas, with wanton displays of nudity, carnage, gore,
perverse sexuality, and vehicular mayhem. Cannibals, rapists, masters of kung
fu, bikers, zombies, and women in bondage were staples of these sorts of
films, though not limited to them in subject matter.
Many of these theaters would show double, or even triple B-movie features, as
the run times for these movies were generally lean (65-90 minutes). Repeat
showings were quite common, resulting in degradation of the quality of the
film itself, including such things as wear lines, rampant debris, shaky frames, and in the
worst cases, missing reels (extremely uncommon). As home video and cable began
to dominate, the need to go to these secondary theaters in order to see schlock cinema
dissipated, and now the era of the grindhouse is nonexistent in its original
form, even if there are films one could easily deem as grindhouse-worthy still
being made today.
As an homage to the theaters that would regularly show such exploitative
entertainment, writer-directors Quentin Tarantino (Kill
Bill Vol. 1, Vol. 2) and Robert Rodriguez
(Sin City, Once Upon a
Time in Mexico) set
about capturing the essence of what it might be like to be at a grindhouse
if it existed today, with movies that meet the general criteria for this subgenre of horror
and action-based thrills. Complete with previews of coming attractions, two films
are shown back to back, Rodriguez's homage to sci-fi zombie films,
Planet Terror, and Tarantino's take on the car crash flick, Death Proof.
Judging a film that is really two films in one is not easy, so for the
purposes of simplicity, I'll judge them as separate entities before giving an
overall summation.
Planet Terror
After a humorous preview of a Mexican revenge flick, Machete, Rodriguez gets
the first bill of the double feature, blending the sensationalist action,
cheesy science fiction, rampant sexploitaition, and gory cannibalistic zombie
genres in a concoction called Planet Terror. It stars Rose McGowan (Monkeybone,
Ready to Rumble) as Cherry
Darling, a go-go dancer who, along with her ex-boyfriend, El Wray (Freddy
Rodriquez, Bobby) fight for their lives amid flesh-hungry zombies
-- former humans
afflicted through a recently-released toxic gas -- who are spreading their
deadly infection to the rest of the small Texas town.
People looking for bloody gore and kinky fetishism will probably think Planet
Terror the better of the two films, as it does feature some memorable
gross-out moments, sexy dancing and prancing by Rose McGowan, and a plethora of
decapitations and disembowelings for your blood-thirsty pleasure. It's not
exactly a faithful recreation of grindhouse features, as the budget, special
effects, and star power are definitely not in keeping with the
miniscule-budgeted, hastily slapped-together feel of your typical exploitation
flick. However, taken as just an example of balls-out bravado, it is visually
clever, with enough moments that will have you laughing at the sheer
wretchedness of some of the film's more disgusting gags.
While Planet Terror is action-packed, its storyline is relatively
uninteresting, only engaging for a lack of realism that's taken to absurd
proportions. Still, Rodriguez's propensity for in-your-face viscera is almost
second to none, and it does provoke a reaction in most who will see it, even
if it's just to make you a bit queasy from such sights as a bagful of
testicles, shredded human flesh, and buckets of blood splattered liberally out of
a variety of amputated limbs. The eccentric characters also help, with McGowan stunningly
lithe as Cherry, and choice acting turns for Brolin (The
Dead Girl), Rodriguez and Shelton (Uptown
Girls).
Quentin Tarantino makes a small appearance as a would-be rapist in one of the
film's more memorable dispatchings. If you like such films as Dawn of the
Dead, this may be right up your putrid-smelling, blood-soaked alley.
Death Proof
After three more previews of coming attractions, Thanksgiving, Eli Roth's
(Hostel, Cabin Fever) mock
take on Black Christmas and
Halloween, Edgar Wright's (Hot
Fuzz, Shaun of the Dead) send-up of the cautionary gory thrillers of
the 1970s, Don't, and Rob Zombie's (The Devil's Rejects, House of
1000 Corpses) Nazi-horror spoof, Werewolf Women of the
SS, Tarantino follows up with his redneck truck stop and vehicular carnage
film, Death Proof. Kurt Russell (Poseidon,
Dreamer) stars as Stuntman Mike, a Hollywood stunt
double and car crash expert who claims to have a "death proof" car,
retrofitted to withstand just about any crash and keep him from getting
killed. It turns out that Mike is actually on the homicidal maniac side of
drivers, as he uses the death proof car in order to take the lives of
passengers or other drivers in head-on collisions, getting out of potential
jail time because there are no surviving eye-witnesses (other than himself).
These crashes are seen by the authorities as unfortunate accidents, and it helps that his victims are intoxicated
at the time of death.
Tarantino's homage to 1970s "car porn" drive-in cinema isn't as pungent in its
delivery as Rodriguez's Planet Terror, putting more emphasis on long
conversations and characterizations before getting to the nitty-gritty action
later in the piece. The emphasis on characters and setting (typical Tarantino
-- he loves his characters and their rambling conversations so much he forgets
about his story for long stretches) over seedy action does also make it less
of a grindhouse production than would be appropriate, but the last 45 minutes
or so do make up for it with one of the best, and longest, car chase scenes
seen in a film in recent memory.
If there is a problem with Death Proof, at least from my point of view, it's
the disjointed nature of it. It feels like two segments with four talkative
women slapped end to end with only the Stuntman Mike's appearance to tie them
together. It's a bit nonsensical, and story threads are left dangling
(including Mary Elizabeth Winstead's (Final
Destination 3) character getting completely lost before
the end). However, it's difficult to be overly critical here, as Tarantino was
obviously not trying to make a great, lasting movie, merely having fun with
the conventions of the genre, while paying homage to many of his favorite
films of the 1970s -- Vanishing Point,
Dirty Mary Crazy Larry, and Gone in 60
Seconds (the original Roger Corman production).
Grindhouse
As it stands, Grindhouse lives up to its name through sheer excess, as most
movie-going audiences today might feel that over three hours of
scatterbrained, non-stop
mayhem might be a bit too much to have to take in during one sitting. Obviously,
this sort of thing will find new life on home video, where the features can be
taken in one at a time, so expect the cult status to grow in the next few
years. Given the somewhat talky nature of Tarantino's piece, perhaps it might
have been best to start the film with Death Proof, as audiences will most
likely grow impatient having to downshift to slow to his more deliberate
pacing, but once the action starts, such long, banal conversations among the
characters are forgotten for the heavy impact of the here and now. Taking into
consideration the lack of concern that theater owners had in slapping together
a double feature in the grindhouse days, perhaps the lack of caring for the
pacing is appropriate after all.
One might call Grindhouse self-indulgent, as it does seem to be more of an
example of two prodigious fan boys playing around for their own entertainment
than a ready-made crowd-pleaser, but I think if you're in tune with what
they're trying to do, you'll have fun along with them. Say what you will about
the schlocky nature of it (that's part of the point of the film, after all),
there definitely isn't anything else like it being released in theaters these
days. Taken alone, these films are engaging but far from each director's
best. Taken as a complete concept, though, it's a fascinating premise
that, even if not faithfully executed in the grand grindhouse style, delivers
an experience that leaves you reeling from giddiness, if you aren't on the
verge of collapse from the prolonged overkill.
-- Followed by films inspired by one of the mock trailers,
Machete and
Machete Kills
