Directed by: Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino
Starring: Rosario Dawson, Rose McGowan, Kurt Russell, Josh Brolin

Rose McGowan and Kurt Russell in Grindhouse. (Courtesy photo)

For the past few years audiences have flummoxed Hollywood, forgoing what used to be surefire successes and championing unexpected sleepers. Up until recently I was enjoying it all, smugly certain that I knew what moviegoers really wanted. As they bypassed Stealth and Poseidon in favor of The Devil Wears Prada and The Queen, I knew they simply were looking for quality. But now I realize I’m as in the dark as everyone else. More and more strong, accessible films like Hollywoodland, Children of Men, and Munich are sliding out of memory without their fair shake, while audiences continue to swarm to Wild Hogs. Wild Hogs?

The latest and most surprising casualty is Grindhouse. This blood-bathed celebration of junky ’70s filmmaking is by no means for all tastes. But the pedigrees of Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino are beyond question, and with the lure of two movies for the price of one, Grindhouse appears irresistible. I suppose I can’t point out the movie-lover’s trailer or the critical raves, because such things are clearly lacking in impact these days. Still, everyone thought the movie would fare much better than it did last weekend. In retrospect, it’s all too easy to recognize that Grindhouse is really only for aficionados of the creatively cruddy. That would certainly be me, and I was knocked sideways with joy by most of the 190-minute experience.

There are three parts to Grindhouse: Rodriguez’s ode to director John Carpenter, Planet Terror; a collection of “vintage” movie trailers pulled off by today’s most acclaimed shlockmeisters; and Death Proof, Tarantino’s celebration of blacktop thrillers. Two out of the three parts deliver big-time. The third, Death Proof, is a very mixed bag. It’s too bad this comes last, because it will put a real damper on an otherwise exhilarating night at the second-run house.

First, I’m not going to tell you about the trailers, except to say that they are wonderful. Any advance exposure will lead to instant deterioration of your enjoyment. Planet Terror is about a government-created toxin that turns people into zombies. Rose McGowan, who looks like a living Will Eisner drawing, plays Cherry Darling, a down-and-out go-go dancer whose nightmarish evening leads her back into the arms of former flame Wray (Freddy Rodriguez). She may lose a leg before it’s all over, but she gains a man who loves her (as well as a handy replacement for her leg). Others stumbling through the gore-spattered evening include Nurse Dakota (Marley Shelton) and her sleazeball husband, Doc Block (finally, another good role for Josh Brolin). Then there are the feuding brothers, Sheriff Hague (Michael Biehn) and barbecue joint owner J. T. (Jeff Fahey). There are lots of other people, too, and they’re all cast beautifully.

Rodriguez essentially delivers one cliché after another, but he does so a little faster and with more inventive grotesquerie than you expect. Planet Terror goes beyond all expectations—kids and animals are not safe on this bloody night. Rodriguez has never been a fan of working out third acts, yet his commitment to the schlock-movie formula actually gives him one of his most satisfying finales. And even when something doesn’t quite work in a Rodriguez movie, his sheer joy in filmmaking shines through.

Quentin Tarantino also loves movies, but this time his passion gets the best of him. Whereas Rodriguez simply outruns expectations, Tarantino’s attempts to subvert them result in just plain badness. Rodriguez charges past real logic, but holds true to screwball movie logic. Tarantino leaves such notions behind, and ends up with a mismatched collection of interesting parts. Death Proof tells of two quartets of girls that separately run up against Stuntman Mike (Kurt Russell). Mike has an old-fashioned, easy-going charm about him that runs counter to his black, mean-looking Chevy Nova with the skull painted on the hood. If only Tarantino didn’t have the girls spend so much time talking about truly meaningless stuff before he got to the mean streets, Death Proof might have been its own little gem. He does make one inspired choice, though, casting real-life stuntwoman Zoë Bell as a stuntwoman named Zoë Bell. That’s really Bell clinging to the hood in the final jaw-dropper of a chase.

The bulk of the fake trailers comes between the two films, and as they unreeled, I felt like I was in one corner of movie heaven. Like Rodriguez’s Sin City or Tarantino’s Kill Bill films, this was the kind of glorious assault on the senses one can only get in a movie theater. That feeling wasn’t completely dissipated by Death Proof, but if you really want to have a great—and much shorter—night, check out after the trailers. You’ll miss a few good chases, but you’ll leave at the high point.

Alex Manugian lives in Sherman Oaks, California, and works for the Cartoon Network. He grew up in Groton and has reviewed movies for Harvard residents for many years.