Directed by:
Quentin TarantinoScreenplay:
Quentin TarantinoCinematography:
Quentin TarantinoCast:
Kurt Russell, Rosario Dawson, Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Tracie Thoms, Zoë Bell, Vanessa Ferlito, Rose McGowan, Sydney Tamiia Poitier, Jordan Ladd (more)VOD (3)
Plots(1)
In Tarantino's Death Proof, Austin's hottest DJ, Jungle Julia, sets out into the night to unwind with her two friends Shanna an Arlene. Covertly tracking their moves is Stuntman Mike, a scarred rebel leering from behind the wheel of his muscle car, revving just feet away. (Dimension Films)
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Reviews (15)
As a stand-alone, this film doesn’t work, that’s pretty clear. But as part of a tribute to a decadent genre, beginning with Rodriguez's macabre starter, the trailers for fictional B-movies, and even the image with the patina of preserved VHS tapes with all the scratches and skips (in the American distribution version, a sign appeared after the lap dance scene apologizing for a piece that was missing due to the poor technical condition of the filmstrip), it has its own unique charm (which is why I consider the division of Grindhouse a fatal mistake). I understand that for many uninitiated viewers the pacing will be a bit " homicidal" – girls fooling around in the car, girls fooling around in the pub, Arlene texting her boyfriend at length, girls fooling around again, Arlene texting AGAIN at length, etc. – and I'm sure it will seem very "bad" to them, but looking at the films Tarantino pays fan tribute to, I have no doubt that he had everything under control, knew what he was doing and that it was supposed to be that "bad". Just look at Meyer's Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!, from which Tarantino also drew: the girls fool around with each other, fool around with the guys, fool around with each other again, in the meantime they take out one guy, and at the end there's some action. Comparing it to Tarantino's previous films or calling it "boring" is a complete misunderstanding of his creative intent. He just made a fan tribute to himself for his own enjoyment and I ate it up with gusto. And the "old-school" car chase at the end was a treat!
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As a full-fledged film it’s essentially useless, and that was not expected from Tarantino. Grindhouse excels exactly in what it should, to pay perfect homage to all possible B-movie genres and older films. You can expect amazing gimmicks (old picture, sound distortion, Kurt winking at the camera), which, mixed with quality ingredients (an excellently insane plot and stylish execution), create a decently entertaining appetizer primarily designed for hardcore fans of the director. For a regular viewer, it is still a bit unusual, even considering the fact that, from this director, are somehow expecting something to jump at you from the screen.
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Terribly restrained and, mainly in the first half, boring. It was real torture sitting through the first group of girls and, until stuntman Mike (the great Kurt Russell) comes on set, nothing happens. And normally Tarantino knows how to create an atmosphere. The mysterious music and the shot of the car hidden in the darkness is much more powerful than the car revving. A change comes with the nice conversation between father (sheriff) and his first-born son (deputy), which is definitely the best of all the dialog scenes (in terms of screenplay). The second group of girls has clearly more charisma (headed by Rosario Dawson) and more fun. The icing on the cake is the final car chase which is absolute genius and breathtaking. That’s why it’s a shame that the self-centered screenwriter Tarantino has to spoil all of director Tarantino’s good work. But maybe after this kick in the ass Mr. T. will pull himself together and start work on Inglourious Basterds, because it really is high time.
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A clever director's whim, a traditionally listenable soundtrack, and occasionally nice cameos. That's all Quentin Tarantino has given me and this desperate spectacle made me so angry. Two completely identical parties of overdressed silly kittens with annoying dialogue, making even the conversations from the worst of the director's scripts seem like genius. And on top of that, a main villain who disappears for long minutes, resulting in one unsexy dance and one tired car chase. The video rental weirdo has run out of ideas and becomes just a weirdo again who enjoys watching somewhat strange movies. I don't blame him, but in that case, he shouldn't boast about any "the best" labels. More than a decade later, undoubtedly the worst Tarantino movie, fortunately meaning rock bottom, from which the only way was up, fortunately several floors up.
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One of Quentin's most personal opuses, an amazingly entertaining homage to the trash cinema of Russ Mayer et al., with great sound and cinematography. It’s not very captivating in the dialogues and doesn’t form an entirely consistent whole, but every detail is a reflection of almost supernatural cinephile love and creativity (when we get bored with the conversation at the round table, we can at least enjoy the variable single take shot). A superb Russell, sexy babes and a car chase that will take your breath away. Brilliantly executed, culminating in perhaps Quentin's funniest transition to the final credits – I would love to know where that guy finds those outrageously catchy songs.
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