Thursday night April 5th 2007, the famous Grauman's Chinese Theater in Hollywood shook off the sterile perfection of its state-of-the art projection and sound system and reverted back to the days of missing reels, scratchy spliced prints and an utter lack of Dolby noise reduction: back to the outrageous exploitation era of low-budget filmmaking known as Grindhouse.

With imaginative directors (and encyclopedic film fans) Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino each with one hand on the wheel, their GRINDHOUSE vehicle offers one shamelessly wild thrill ride intended to jolt modern audiences out of their multiplex complacency.  On that note, both filmmakers succeed at nearly every turn in this three-hour journey back in time and sensibilities.  GRINDHOUSE is as much a kick in the pants as a punch in the gut, which is the target clearly in Rodriguez and Tarantino's cinematic sites.  The resulting moviegoing experience — the deliberate high-concept goal of this joint labor of love — hits viewers like a shot in the solar plexus, but feels more like rabbit punches on the funny bone.  Mayhem, monsters and hilarity ensue.  It's about time audiences enjoy going to the movies again, and GRINDHOUSE is your ticket!

The actual previews of coming attractions would have been an annoyance if they hadn't started out with our first official glimpse at rocker/director Rob Zombie's pre-make of HALLOWEEN.  This rejuvenating rework of a once-potent horror classic turned mindless franchise was enthusiastically received by the packed-house audience and bodes extremely well if the startling content and creepy mood of the trailer delivers more of the same in the feature film release this August.

It's the Chinese Theater's tradition to close the curtains after the previews then reopen them for the start of the feature film . . . in this case it signals the high-concept fun is just starting as Rodriguez treats audiences to a grindhouse-style preview of the fake-film MACHETE, starring genre favorite Danny Trejo.  Film scratches and bad splice edits abound to set the retro-technology grindhouse conceit, complete with an artificially muddied soundtrack.  This high-tech recreation of low-low-tech results from a bygone era is remarkably, enjoyably effective, and the 21st century audience quickly caught on and applauded the not-so-special looking special effect.  So positive was early reaction to the MACHETE trailer in post-production, Rodriguez recently announced he already has a distribution deal in place to create a full-length MACHETE film as promised (with a wink) in the GRINDHOUSE faux-trailer. 

More retro interstitial introductions lead into GRINDHOUSE proper, opening with Rodriguez's tribute to 1980s sci fi/horror flicks, PLANET TERROR.  Rose McGowan steams up the exploitation angle from frame one, as her Go Go seductress bumps and sways on stage to Rodriguez's grinding guitar score . McGowan's performance as the down-and-out dancer elicits laughs and some sympathy in all the right spots, and should earn the actress continued roles of interest. 

The story gets to the plot dilemma quickly — military mercenaries try to steal a mutating biological weapon — and the blood-spurting violence begins.  In the world of GRINDHOUSE, nothing succeeds like excess, and Rodriguez takes the violence over the top in true exploitation form, but both the intent and results are mostly for cartoonish effect, eliciting laughs more often than gasps.  As noted, this film aims for gut reactions, never taking itself too seriously and finding a thousand ways for its audience not to do so either.  While some moments with the gas-infected "sickos" go for the utter gross out, in PLANET TERROR the horror more often turns to hilarity and on purpose.

One of this segment's strengths is Freddie Rodriguez's work as the tough hombre El Wray, who is written and performed adeptly as the patented 1980s bad-ass action hero who never met a gun he didn't like.  Wray harbors a mysterious past — "revealed" in one of the funniest grindhouse-gimmick moments of the entire film — which includes being the former love interest of Cherry Darling.  Freddie Rodriguez and Rose McGowan generate good onscreen chemistry as their heart-hardened characters battle for survival while fighting to reunite against all odds.  Wisely this rocky relationship serves as the narrative conflict of PLANET TERROR, with the chemical weapon subplot and sickos only throwing plot roadblocks in the couple's way, which results in a surprisingly satisfying tale.

Solid and enjoyable performances are contributed by a host of genre favorites and RR/QT stable actors including Michael Biehn as Wray's personal antagonist Sheriff Hague, Jeff Fahey's humorous turn as a failing barbeque cook, legendary makeup artist Tom Savini as Hague's deputy, Naveen Andrews as a biochemical scientist, and a brief appearance by Stacy Ferguson as the other woman Tammy.  A parallel relationship plot pits Dakota Block (Marley Shelton) against her husband Doc Block (Josh Brolin) in a marital breakup which further empowers the female characters of PLANET TERROR as staunch survivors of the men literally ruining their world.

This troupe of join forces with El Wray and Cherry to blast their way through hordes of sickos in an attempt to escape the manmade plague for the safety of Mexico.   The splatter-thon ensues, raised to disgusting and hilarious heights by Greg Nicotero and the makeup wizards at KNB EFX Group, who turn guest actor Quentin Tarantino into a literally degenerate soldier-gone-bad in perhaps the most outrageous scene in the film. 

PLANET TERROR doesn't hesitate to push its audiences buttons with over-the-top violence and gross outs, but the entire damaged-print package is delivered strictly to entertain its modern audience with a lovingly sent-up homage to such films from a quarter century past.  Viewer reaction is the name of the game, as Rodriguez and Tarantino designed this project to get audiences up off their couches and jumping in their theater seats, either in revulsion or laughter.  Rodriguez's double-bill entry satisfies film fans' sweet tooth for a fun and rare banquet of thrills and dark humor which should have entertainment-hungry audiences lining up for a second helping.

Next comes something the majority of modern audiences have never seen before: an intermission.  A hilarious 'local restaurant' ad is sandwiched between a trio of fake-film trailers for supposed coming attractions to this virtual grindhouse theater.  The first preview, WEREWOLF WOMEN OF THE SS, is Rob Zombie's satire of Nazi-exploitation films such as the 1974 cult classic Ilsa, She Wolf of the SS.   Zombie enlisted much of his upcoming HALLOWEEN cast, including Sheri Moon Zombie, Udo Kier, Sybil Danning, Bill Moseley and Tom Towles, to hint at this absurd plot to bio-engineer women into werewolves to fight for the Third Reich.  Nicholas Cage gets a huge laugh in a non-sequitor appearance as Fu Manchu, as well. Of the three trailers, Zombie's is likely the closest homage to the grindhouse-era source material, but may be the most obscure since so few in the audience will know what sub-genre he's parodizing.

Eli Roth's holiday-slasher send up, THANKSGIVING, was leaked on the internet last weekend but still had the audience alternately howling and groaning at its outrageous excesses right on cue.  Roth pokes fun at the calendar-based horror film titles, started with Carpenter's classic Halloween and finally degenerating into much less ominous observations like New Year's Evil and April Fools Day.  In THANKSGIVING, the absurd holiday slasher The Pilgrim carves up victims in parades, gymnasiums and then serves up the finale on the Thanksgiving dinner table.  Roth's trailer is probably the best parody of the bunch, and certainly got the loudest audience reaction of the intermission.

Edgar Wright's take off on supernatural horrors like Legend of Hell House or The Omen spawns DON'T, which easily wins honors for the funniest parody of film trailer promotion.  It's certainly the most understated contribution to the entire GRINDHOUSE experience, but garnered increasing laughs every second it played.

With intermission concluded, it's time for Quentin Tarantino's second-half feature, DEATH PROOF.  As one can expect from the eclectic auteur, Tarantino delivers a more esoteric and specific homage to grindhouse-era films, artistically blurring the slasher and hot rod genres to mix high-octane thrills with dialogue-driven character set pieces.  This blending of story types and structures has intriguing benefits and a few diluting distractions inherent in the experiment, though the overall results is positively if only slightly less satisfying than PLANET TERROR preceding it.

Stripped down to the nuts and bolts, DEATH PROOF is about a group of strong sexy women who know the score and like to stay on top and in control of their world.  Actually, it's about two groups of such women, entering the story from opposite directions with equally polar results.   Racing to collide with both entrants in this bloody demolition derby is Kurt Russell as Stuntman Mike, the womanizing predator on the hunt in Austin Texas.  It's become a patented specialty of Russell's film career to play men who can be highly likeable and deeply troubled at the same time, and it would seem clear Tarantino wrote the part of Stuntman Mike accordingly for the actor.  The audience never roots for Mike in this action-packed car crashing tale, but they can't resist gleefully going along for the ride even though viewers know his motives and the exact destination of the murderous wreck ahead.  Russell walks a very fine line between charming and despicable, but few actors could toe that line more skillfully or successfully, and he's money in the bank for DEATH PROOF.

The films first team of The Girls (capitalized emphasis courtesy of Tarantino) consists of Jungle Julia (Sydney Poitier), Arlene aka Butterfly (Vanessa Ferlito), and Shanna (Jordan Ladd), who rule their own individual slice of Austin in attitude if not by deed.  Julia, a morning deejay, uses her local notoriety to set up Arlene for some hot action in town on this fateful night by encourage gentlemen callers to attempt woo her with a cocktail and poetic recital.  Sadly for all, this sets the bait for Stuntman Mike's entrance into their lives, who alternately seduces and menaces Arlene for his radio-promised lap dance if he plays his part correctly.

This sets the deadly cat-and-mouse game in gear, but first Mike must attend to a preliminary attack on a more willing victim Pam, played in a return appearance by Rose McGowan who has traded her raven tresses for a feathered blonde wig.  Mike offers to give Pam a ride, but once he seats her in his stunt-rigged "death proof" 1970 Chevy Nova, Pam quickly learns a maniacal killer is in the driver's seat, but alas too late.  Having whet his car-slasher appetite, Mike returns to claim his quarry among Arlene and The Girls.  Even when played out in multiple-angle slow motion, this midpoint semi-climax lacks the emotional punch expected, despite the considerable screen time invested in establishing The Girls' characters.   In the end, these Girls are still relegated to being slasher fodder for Stuntman Mike, never truly likeable enough to gain our full sympathy in perhaps the one disappointing dramatic weakness found in GRINDHOUSE.

Act Two introduces a new set of The Girls: Abernathy (Rosario Dawson), Kim (Tracie Thoms), Lee (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), and New Zealand stuntwoman Zoë Bell as herself.  This formidable foursome are on a production break filming in Tennessee as Zoë enlists them on a mission to find a rare 1970 white Dodge Challenger for sale, the same model Kowalski drove in the car chase classic Vanishing Point.  The New Girls con the owner into letting them test drive his hot rod in order to play a stunt driving game called Ship's Mast.  In effect, with film car driver Kim at the wheel, Zoë straps herself to the hood of the car as it races along back country roads for a daredevil thrill ride.  This death defying stunt catches the stalking eye of none other than Stuntman Mike, hungry to race down new victims.

I'll let the he resulting high-speed confrontation play out on its own merits for readers, but suffice it to say that this second act of DEATH PROOF proves more satisfying than its first half, mainly due to the increased likeability of this new posse of powerful women who demonstrate more personality and purpose.  The first Girls' characters were too reliant on Tarantino's trademark dialogue artistry to garner audience interest, while the characters themselves weren't very empathetic or enjoyable.  In contrast, Dawson and Thoms exude abundances of character and quirky personality which make them easily identifiable. Winstead radiates an enticing mix of sexy sizzle and 70s post-flower power innocence, though her character's intellect is dimmer than one would hope.  Stunt professional Zoë Bell's first stint as a lead actress serves DEATH PROOF well enough, though she'll need to continue establishing her acting chops before she can truly stand as an onscreen peer to Rosario Dawson or engage and audience like veteran Kurt Russell.

Equal billing is certainly deserved by the muscle cars of DEATH PROOF, with starring performances by the stunt crew behind the wheels and stunt designs.  Credit to Tracie Thoms and Kurt Russell for doing as much of their own driving as safely possible, which adds dramatic credibility to the chase finale.  Pro drivers Tracy Dashaw and Buddy Joe Hooker double for Thoms and Russell respectively, and their utterly, joyfully CG-free stunt racing in this film reminds jaded modern audiences just how dangerous and pulse-pounding a genuine, rubber on the road car chase can be in cinema.

Be it 400-horsepower auto wreck thrills, high-caliber shootouts or grossly pustulating mutants, GRINDHOUSE delivers a true, all-too-rare moviegoing event experience which must be seen in a theater to be fully and deservingly appreciated.  The attention to detail in every aspect of its lovingly labored production, from distressing a new film to look timeworn, to spot-on retro costuming and brilliant high-concept editing, exists in such depth that one viewing simply isn't enough to catch and enjoy it all.

Overall GRINDHOUSE achieves every one of the outrageous, horrible and laughable promises made in its eye-catching trailers and commercials — as Tarantino and Rodriguez put it while promoting their film, they wanted to make a Grindhouse movie that finally shows you everything on the poster.   GRINDHOUSE delivers an overload of those results which may overwhelm today's audiences so jadedly accustomed to modern, sanitized and sin-less cinema, but such excesses are the entire point of this film. 

It may well be a sad shock to find yourself reacting so loudly and often to a film in 2007, but thankfully writer/directors Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino have reached deep into their love of film from the past to create GRINDHOUSE, and remind us how fun and far out movies once were, and can be once again.