Movie Review: Grindhouse
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What Parents Should Know
Parents need to know that this purposely exploitative double
feature is full of gore, sex, and all manner of violence -- in
other words, no kids allowed. The 190-minute running time (in
addition to the two main stories, there are several faux
trailers) gives the two directors lots of time to revisit
exploitation movies of the '60s and '70s, plastering the screen
with cleavage, buttocks, short skirts, a plastic bag full of
cut-off "balls," an attempted rape with an infected penis (it
disintegrates on screen), a one-legged pole-dancer whose
prosthesis is a machine gun (she uses it to shoot cannibalistic
mutants), shootings (including one suicide), stabbings,
explosions, car crashes, melting faces, martial arts kicking,
flesh eating, dismembered limbs, and bashing with metal poles.
Zombies' heads and chests explode when shot, spewing goo and
blood, and other bodies are incessantly bloody. Swearing is
incessant, and characters drink and smoke (both cigarettes and
marijuana). In short, it's an over-the-top smorgasbord of stuff
that will probably be too much for many adults, not to mention
kids.
Families can talk about the movie's intentionally shocking subject material. What do you think directors Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino wanted to accomplish by making this movie? At what point do viewers become desensitized to this type of barrage of violence and gore? Is the excess meant to be funny? Do you think films like this one only appeal to a certain audience? Who is that audience, and why are they drawn to material like this? Are the vintage '60s and '70s exploitation movies that this one was inspired by still relevant today? How would you characterize the women in the movie? Are they victims or heroines? How does their sexuality work for and against them?
Common Sense Media Review
Two complete movies accompanied by a slew of faux trailers
for others just like them, GRINDHOUSE is an extravaganza of
self-love and remembering. Full of girls, cars, and zombies,
both flicks are less awesome, angry, or even entertainingly
cheesy than they are nostalgic. All their genuflecting to
scratched-up celluloid, Tom Savini-style gore effects, and
metal-smashing auto crashes is less interesting than how they
both fear and love bodacious females.
That said, it's great to see actors like Michael Biehn and Jeff Fahey resurrected, as well as an actual stuntperson (Zoe Bell, who stood in for Uma Thurman in Kill Bill ) riding atop a careening 1970 Dodge Challenger. Still, some gags are too obvious (co-director Quentin Tarantino plays a zombie-soldier whose penis falls off) and others too prolonged (Snake Plissken's teary collapse). The trailers that run before and between the movies are already legendary (one stars the excellent Danny Trejo, another is a holiday-themed slasher flick by fanboy extraordinaire Eli Roth), and make strong cases for deft brevity when crafting an homage.
At the center of the two main features is Rose McGowan. In the first film, Robert Rodriguez's Planet Terror, she plays Cherry Darling, a dark-haired go-go dancer/aspiring standup comic whose full red lips and perfectly tight bra top suggest she'll fulfill someone's dreams. When she loses a leg to cannibalistic zombies, she dons a machine gun prosthesis to shoot the remaining monsters to pieces, becoming the ultimate survivor of a man-made menace (the zombies result from the intentional spread of a viral toxin brought back from the war in Iraq by military thugs, including Bruce Willis).
