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Grindhouse – Sloppy, Juicy, Vulgar, and Spoiler Filled Review!

Look, I'm just gonna' tell you now… This review is going to spurt spoilers. It is going spurt them like so many puss-filled alien zombies that want to infect you in the friggen eye. This is also the last time I use a word like friggen, cause this is a review of Grind-fucking-house and keeping it clean just ain’t gonna’ cut it! So, if you don’t want to know what happens to Tom "machete to the head" Savini’s wedding ring after his finger gets bitten off... (Little shout-out to my Dawn of the Dead fans). Stop reading now, whiny ass spoiler bitches…

Oh, and mom... Just stop now, it’ll be better that way...

First, who in the name of Howard Berger's balls brings 5; count them... 5 toddlers to a movie about zombies, cannibals, serial killers, and Nazi Werewolves? Man, if anyone ever needed a couple of hypodermic needles in the eye, it was these methed ouy parents... What? You thought I was going to suggest we should shoot-up the kids? Come on, I'm not that messed up... But this movie is! Look, anyone who goes into this flick thinking it is going to be more of the same horror-lite shit Hollywood has been cramming down our throats are going to be thoroughly disappointed and will probably gag a bit as well... You know who you are, little miss "Oh, this is the same guy who did that Johnny Depp and Antonio Banderas movie". Idiot. Come on, the damn thing starts with a strip dance hotter then Data's fully functionality after a night of Yar love. However, those who are wanting, nay... Craving, needing, even lusting for a balls out flesh fest the likes of which have never been seem since the glory days of hummers in the White House are in for a fucking treat!

First comes... The Machete!

Yes, I am going to dedicate an entire section of this "review" to one of those fake trailers everyone on the interwebs have been having speaks about. Damn, I fucking love Danny Trejo... The older he gets, the deeper those canyons in his face grow, the darker his voice grows... The more I want to see him just kill the living shit out of every mutha' on the screen! Dear lords of gore, let this Grindhouse flick do well... Let Robert Rodriquez go bat shite wild with Danny and his gun-totting brother... Padre Cheech Marin! Please! I needs me some Machete. I needs me some topless knife fighting... I needs to see me some Mexi'cans killing The Man! (What? When The Man crosses you. The Man needs 'a kill'n). NEEDS IT! Oh...and the chain gun. Can't forget that chain gun. God bless you Arnold for making that long ignored weapon a staple in American action... You will believe a man can hide hundreds of machetes in his trench coat... And throw them into your spleen! Oh yes, you will believe...

Now, onto our feature presentation...

So, imagine you are just sitting at home enjoying some Jeopardy and eating a Hungry Man frozen dinner... Your love is sitting next to you... A cool breeze blowing through the wonderful home you've built. You take a juicy bite of Salisbury steak, you turn to smile at your love... Only to find that some goddamn viral zombie took their fucking head off! What the hell? You just wanted to enjoy your dinner and some Alex Trebec. What would you do? You know what you would do. You would do what every red-blooded gun touting American would do... You blow that fuckers head off, wipe off the gore, shed a little tear for your love, swear revenge, have one more swig of brew, and then get on with the zombie killing! Hells yes! Okay, so none of the above actually happened in Planet Terror... But, it is exactly how Rodriguez's gore fest of an apocalyptic movie feels. See, it goes like this... See, Bruce Willis is this pissed off army guy who got hosed when he killed Bin Laden and as a punishment for killing George's boogey man, he and his men get gassed and turn into zombies... I know, it doesn’t make any sense, but that is basically why they end up in Texas with that brown dude from Lost and spread their disgusting zombie gas all over the country. By then, Dr. Josh Brolin's lesbian wife (who looks sexy with her mascara stained face and quick-draw needles) finds out that her Fergilicious girlfriend got road killed by some of those zombies and only El Ray and that hot chick from The Doom Generation can save the day! See, this would have all made a lot more sense if there weren’t a missing fucking reel...

Oh well, made time for more killing... This is what we all want anyway! Somewhere along the way, Reese survives his car crash in Terminator and helps the town escape to the local roadside Barbeque joint, but that all burns to the ground and what is left of the town escapes in some sweet rides and one of those sad little pocket rockets that were popular with the kids a year or so back... It's okay though, cause El Wrey drives that one and he is the badass of this little flick. Who is El Wrey? That is like asking... Who is El? Well, El is The...so he is The Wrey and he can kill zombies with butterfly knives while running up walls... He is also really god damn cool and made me wish I could smoke and be like El Wrey... Who wouldn’t want to be El Wrey? Sure, he dies at the end, but that’s after banging stumpy Cherry in a sleazy BBQ joint waterbed and giving her the new El Rey... Actually, the La Wray, but anymore and I would be spoiling things. Speaking of stumpy, damn has Rose McGowan ever been hotter? I think not my friends… I. Think. Not. I really hope this starts a new trend. Like when people began to annoyingly say shit like "All righty then" or "Yeah babby…Yeah"... Um, except the trend would be more chicks with big ass guns as limbs. This would be a sexier world if all the hot dames were packing heat.

I love this country. I really do.

Okay, all kidding aside, Planet Terror is one hell of a ride. Rodriquez embraced the concept of a 70s exploitation like a dying man embraces water in the dessert. Robert Rodriquez has been criticized in the past for letting his fast style of shooting get in the way of telling a story. Well screw those critics. His style of filming is part of the fucking story! The grainy "film stock". The broken colors. The confusing as hell story. The tacked on emotion and pathos. And yes, even the missing reel in which the entire fucking story is explained all makes Planet Terror a fantastic ride of zombie puss-filled proportions! Anyone who complains that the story doesn't make any sense… Punch them in the face, then spit on them, and then pull them back up and ask them if the story makes more sense now. (Okay, don’t really do that…but think it…long and hard).

Intermission...

Not really, Fucking Grindhouse (which really should be this events official title) rolls straight into the other “fake” trailers. Which reminds me, if your lame ass paid $20 for that large bucket of Coke; you are in for some pain because there ain’t any quiet moments to relieve that bladder of yours. Tool. Anyway, these trailers are as varied and as insane as you would expect. First, we get Rob Zombie and some Nazi Werewolves. Its kinda' like chocolate and peanut butter… Just a couple of great tastes that taste great together! Plus, it has some freaky topless masochist chicks and Udo Keir being…well… Udo Keir… Oh, and Nicholas Cage playing Dr. Fumanchu. Now there is a Nick Cage flick I might watch. (Can’t be anymore offensive then Ghost Rider). Then, a sweet trailer for Don’t by Edgar Wright, known in the U.S. of A. as the Shaun of the Dead guy… Don’t go in the house. Don’t open the door. Don’t look out the window. Don’t see this movie alone. Don’t! Damn that Edgar, he knows his genre and he knows how give it to the audience. After this trailer, a fine little commercial for some fantastic Mexican food that I've been craving since Black Mamba killed her some Bills… Then the final trailer, Eli Roth's Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving, knives, meat, and more knives… You do the math. At least this trailer had boobies… I’m not a fan of Eli Roth, so this trailer can get stuffed in the popper for all I care. Next year I want me some Machete and Don’t!. (I know, I know… I like Rob Zombie too… But, come on)!

On with Death Proof!

Fucking Grindhouse (told you I was changing the name) slows down just a little bit with Quentin's flick, Death Proof. However, this slowing down only works to cause your lame to generate more and more tension within your soda and salt filled body. If Planet Terror was for the zombie gore fans in the house (like moi), then Death Proof is for all the gear heads out there. (Gear heads that will weep…weep with each bone crunching crash of every gorgeous muscle car in this flick). Death Proof stars some really sexy chicks with huge cans and sexy feet. (Come on, this is a Tarantino movie, you know it is going to be feet city). Death Proof also stars Kurt "Costner is a shitty Wyat Earp" Russell. I love Kurt Russell. I love aging Kurt Russell. I love aging, scarred Kurt Russell. I love aging, scarred, and demented Kurt Russell. As such, I am having a geekgasm the likes of which haven’t been had since Freddy faced off against Jason in a flaming cabin. Only if Bruce "The Man" Campbell had shown up would my Geek chump been larger! (See mom, I told you not read this review)…

So here is the gist of Death Proof.

Jack Burton plays a stuntman who can only get his rocks off by killing chicks with his car. He does it by beating the ever-loving crap out of them with his car as he takes hard corners or slams his brakes until the passenger is a bloody pulp. Those he can’t lure into the Death Proof car, he hunts down, rams into, and kill in graphic and slo-mo matter. Gross and terrible? Um, yea, that is kinda’ the point… So no whining about the exploitation of females and whatnot… You bought a ticket to an exploitation film titled Death Proof! Anyway, Russell plays a dude named Stuntman Mike. Not much is told about his past. He was a stuntman in movies that only pop culture freaks like Rodriquez, Tarantino, my peoples, and myself remember. (Like Vanishing Point, the real Vanishing Point). So Stuntman Mike has this sweet ass car that is designed to survive old school car crashes. Crashes that nobody does anymore because filmmakers have gotten god damn lazy and use CGI now. So, Russell kills some annoying chicks that really had it coming for not knowing The Virginian. Then he gets released from the hospital cause sheriff Earl McGraw ain’t gots no proof on him… He’s back on the street… Back on the prowl!

Enter more hot chicks.

Hot chicks that are a wee more skilled at driving hardcore Detroit Steel then Kurt Russell… Which sounds like blasphemy, but it works. See, poor Kurt tries to kill these hot chicks, hot chicks that also happen to stuntwomen and know how to drive badass cars. So, to Tarantino's credit… He does a fantastic job of taking a badass serial killer car flick into an even badderass hot chick revenge flick! Sure, Death Proof might start a tad slower then Planet Terror, but once them big block engines start to rumble your ass better hang on for dear fucking life… Cause Tarantino is going to beat the ever-loving hell out of you and I promise you… You will never, ever, ever forget to slap on that seatbelt in your car ever again. Not that it will help when 2 tons of Death Proof is burning rubber on your pretty little face.

Three and a half short hours later is was all over. Except for all the yelling and screaming at the screen along with your fellow film freaks.

Is Fucking Grindhouse filmed well? Hell no. Damn movie is choppy. The cuts are sloppy. Shit, Rodriquez and Tarantino break every friggen rule in the USC School of filmmaking… This in the end makes Fucking Grindhousea slice of fried gold! You need to check this movie out. Just be ready. I don’t want to hear a single complaint about the gore, or language, or nudity, or sex… If you can complain about one thing, its that we have to wait another year or so for Grindhouse 2. At least we better or there is going to be blood in the theater!

Geek in the City gives Grindhouse 4 out of 5 blood-soaked Critical Hits.