A one-legged ex-go-go dancing Rose McGowan, a zombiefied Bruce Willis, and a sociopathic stuntman Kurt Russell, oh my. We are not in Kansas anymore; we are at “Grindhouse,” the new movie with a classically worn style by Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez. Tarantino explains the idea behind the movie’s aesthetically gritty and over-the-top edge in the short documentary, “Welcome to the Grindhouse:” “In grindhouse (basically the equivalent of urban drive-ins) films, you never knew what you were going to see. It was raw, it was off the hook, sexuality was wild.”
Rodriguez said, in the same documentary, “Because there was so few prints made that explains why the films were so scratched up, worn out, and scenes being chopped out before anyone was able to see them.”
Though the worn-out effects in “Grindhouse” were digitally added, the result is the same. They distance the audience and allow them to enjoy the potentially frightening carnage carnival that is the double feature, which, if the movie had taken itself seriously, would have been too much to bear.
Warning should be given to those who do not like zombies, muscle cars, Rosario Dawson, decapitation, bad mini-bike-riding guys called El Wray (yes, this is an allusion to the guy who played El Mariachi in one of Rodriguez’ earlier works), cute girls in cheerleading outfits, a lap-dancing Butterfly and excessive amounts of violence. If this is the case, I would suggest that you go see “The Last Mimzy” or “TMNT,” which are not likely to have any of these things.
But, if you do not have a strong aversion to the elements listed above, you are going to be having one fast and eventful stay at the “Grindhouse.”
In the first feature, “Planet Terror,” Bruce Willis plays an Army commander called Muldoon, who unleashes an airborne toxic chemical substance that turns people into pulsating pustule-infested flesh eaters, who manage to be less scary than some of the other supposedly human characters.
“‘Planet Terror’ has it all. Mindless non-stop action for my boyfriend and a love story for me,” said Erin Riggs, senior and film enthusiast. “Or, maybe it is the other way around.”
Even though there are parts of the plot that were out-there, like Cherry’s seemingly thought-cued machine-gun leg, and everything else that is encompassed in the plot, “Planet Terror” is a contemporary “Dawn of the Dead” meets “Shaun of the Dead.”
There should be special mention of the four faux previews that were created for the film: Rodriguez’ “Machete,” Eli Roth’s “Thanksgiving” (the official last holiday without an associated slasher movie), Rob Zombie’s “Werewolf Women of the S.S.,” and “Don’t” by Edgar Wright.
All four are wildly hilarious and not your average excuse to visit the concession stand, but if you feel the need to make a snack-related sojourn I would suggest that you wait until the beginning of “Death Proof,” the second feature. Nothing happens in the first 10 minutes, with the exception of one of Tarantino’s infamous feet scenes.
The excitement doesn’t dwindle for long. “Death Proof” is about an over-the-hill stuntman, who drives across the country looking for strangely similar groups of women to kill in or with his stunt cars.
Though it does have its fill of Tarantino’s meandering dialogues that are more hyper-constructed than flowing organic prose, there are parts in the movie when the characters just shut up and get down to the business of trying to kill each other. I love a movie that gets to the point.
In the end, I would recommend that any and all see “Grindhouse,” who would have the predisposition to enjoy it. But if not, I know for a fact that “TMNT” will be playing through the weekend.