I’ve yet to see Grindhouse. Not because it’s too graphic for Jesus, after all, My life story was made into one of the more violent films ever made. Why have I not see it yet? Because Robert Rodriguez has yet to make a movie that has Me say more than “that was almost really good”, and because I don’t want to see Quentin Tarantino make a good “bad” movie on purpose. Three hours of film makers winking at the camera, as if to say “see, bad films are fun!” No guys, bad films are bad. If a film comes along like Near Dark, which is an AMAZING vampire film that just happens to fit in the “bad vampire film” genre, that doesn’t change it from being a good flick. Don’t label it bad simply because it is surrounded by lameness. In the same way, don’t make a film purposely lame with the hopes of that being entertaining. Evil Dead isn’t great because it’s a bad film, it’s great because it rises above what should be a bad film (and for that matter, throwing a weapon on as a human appendage doesn’t instantly turn Rose McGowan into Bruce Campbell). Quentin has yet to make a classic film since Pulp Fiction because he is focusing too much on making film mix tapes for us instead of making amazing films. Sure, Kill Bill would have been mostly good if it was heavily edited into two solid hours, but it’s still a far cry from the culture shifting magic of Pulp Fiction. I’ll eventually see Grindhouse, but definitely not on the holiday of My going through one of the worse possible deaths know to humanity. It’s a renter for the Man Upstairs. However, I just received an email from… believe it or not… My main man King Solomon. He saw it, and wrote Me a review of it which he gave Me permission to post up here on My holy blog. I think you’ll find it interesting, to say the least. I thought he’d be all his normal “meaningless, meaningless, there’s nothing new under the camera lens”… but to My surprise, he actually enjoyed it. So here you have it, King Solomon’s thoughts on Grindhouse.
Word up, Jesus! King Solomon here, dropping you a line regarding that Grindhouse movie. I’ve seen a lot of movies, but I bet that Quentin Tarantino has seen more. Everything he does is gold. I am beginning to suspect that he made a deal with You Know Who (I mean the Lord of Hosts, who is kind enough to let me post here because of His love… I do not mean Voldemort). This one time John Updike said of Vladimir Nabokov, “He writes prose the only way it should be written. That is, ecstatically.” …or something like that. This is how I feel about Tarantino films. He shoots them ecstatically. The first half of the movie is called Planet Terror and it is greater than or equal to completely awesome. I love zombies like the Dutch love tulips; so of course I’m going to like Planet Terror. There were a lot of “suggestive themes” up front so I was glad I didn’t go with Sheba, because that would have been weird. Instead, I brought my son Jeroboam because we are cool like that. It was still a little weird, but nothing I haven’t seen in my days of excess that proved to me that that sinning gets really old after a while (I mean, have you noticed how tired Brittney Spears looks?). Anyway, the dialogue was gloriously terrible. There was even one plot hole I noticed. (Can you find it?!) Not good bad, either. Bad bad. Which makes it GREAT bad. This is a movie in which our attention is called to every glaring imperfection, and we are invited to celebrate. Oh, it is a treat! So much of a treat, in fact, that I was sure that no matter how great the second act, Death Proof, was, it would not compare. But, it does compare! The editing is just hilarious, the sound is off at every cut, the girls’ hair isn’t the right way when the camera angles change… delicious. And, of course, an evil Kurt Russell. Death Proof may be a tribute to ‘spoiltation flicks, but it has Tarantino’s finger prints all over it (not literally… that would impede the film viewing experience). Again, the characters engage in some debauchery that, I think, the film shows to be more of a bad idea than a good idea (Don’t use marijuana, you might require your faculties when a stuntman killer is after you). The chases are more intense than you might like. There is no CG in this movie, so when a girl is hanging out the window at 120 mph, a girl is hanging out the window at 120 mph. It reminds me of Ben Hur (the read Ben Hur, not the 1907 silent movie [Happy centennial, Ben Hur!]) Anyway, it’s intense. So I have to recommend Grindhouse, but only to our readers who are old and wise. The United States of America says you should be at least 17 to see it. I would say at least 150, but I am old and crotchety. (WWJB)KS out