I have yet to see Tarantino's half of the Grindhouse double feature, but Rodriguez's contribution, a worthy addition to the zombie sub-genre, may be his best original work so far. Given that the Grindhouse project almost by definition repels storytelling responsibility, Rodriguez wastes no time in plunging to the depths of excess and reveling there for the entirety of the film.
The actual plot isn't all that original--some chemical weapon or other is unleashed on an unsuspecting public, turning them into flesh-craving zombies--but watching this kind of film for the story is pretty much missing the point. The ensemble cast is pitch-perfect in portraying the myriad characters, each with their own half-crazed (or full-crazed) motivations and desires. There's the wife having a lesbian affair, the restaurant owner who seems almost more concerned with discovering the recipe for an award-winning barbecue sauce than the impending apocalypse, the mysterious gunslinger who was born with killing in his blood, and a dozen others. A film awash with such diverse characters is usually in danger of losing sight of them as people, but everyone in Planet Terror has a satisfying character arc, and the multiple intertwining story lines converge in a way that feels natural rather than forced or guided by the filmmaker. Even in a sort of stylized world where people forget the deaths of loved ones thirty seconds after they died, everyone feels fully fleshed out and acts according to the bizarre logic set up by the film.
The visual style, contrary to what one might expect for a movie that tries to look as beat up as possible, is so perfect as to be almost awe-inspiring. Rodriguez clearly grew up watching cheap prints in drive-in theaters that, as a result of having toured the country one theater at a time, looked as though they had been dragged behind a car several times before being projected; he knows the value of every scratch and clumsy splice. Of course, having the benefit of adding the damage manually probably comes in handy--the washes of solid colors and the missing reels come into the picture, funnily enough, exactly where they're most effective. The lighting is also quite beautiful in that rough, low-budget 1970s way, where it makes everything harsh and textured and grainy.
I think what surprised and delighted me most about the film was the writing. Though I like Rodriguez's films, he's never blown me away with his storytelling prowess. Here, however, he's in rare form. Rather than merely making the plot a buildup to a gunfight, Rodriguez allows the characters to bounce off each other in unexpected ways, building tension between these two, taking that relationship in a completely unexpected direction. None of the characters are really good or bad in the cut-and-dry, black-and-white sense; people who seem virtuous suddenly turn out to be insane; villains become allies; agendas are hidden and exposed and redefined, and reality constantly shifts. Most impressive were the numerous lines of dialogue that turned into motifs or took on added significance when repeated later on. Perhaps working with Edgar Wright (Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz) on the phony trailer for "Don't" rubbed off on Robert. The only real flaw is that the 105-minute version, which is the only version I saw, goes on for perhaps a hair too long.
Planet Terror walks a pretty fine line between camp and genuine horror, but somehow in the midst of the gallons of gore, the guns that never need to reload, the gorgeous heroines in short skirts and tight tank tops, and the gas tanks that need very little persuasion to explode, it manages to emerge as a darkly comedic masterwork of the B-movie genre. I guarantee that you won't have more fun at the movies for a long time to come.
The actual plot isn't all that original--some chemical weapon or other is unleashed on an unsuspecting public, turning them into flesh-craving zombies--but watching this kind of film for the story is pretty much missing the point. The ensemble cast is pitch-perfect in portraying the myriad characters, each with their own half-crazed (or full-crazed) motivations and desires. There's the wife having a lesbian affair, the restaurant owner who seems almost more concerned with discovering the recipe for an award-winning barbecue sauce than the impending apocalypse, the mysterious gunslinger who was born with killing in his blood, and a dozen others. A film awash with such diverse characters is usually in danger of losing sight of them as people, but everyone in Planet Terror has a satisfying character arc, and the multiple intertwining story lines converge in a way that feels natural rather than forced or guided by the filmmaker. Even in a sort of stylized world where people forget the deaths of loved ones thirty seconds after they died, everyone feels fully fleshed out and acts according to the bizarre logic set up by the film.
The visual style, contrary to what one might expect for a movie that tries to look as beat up as possible, is so perfect as to be almost awe-inspiring. Rodriguez clearly grew up watching cheap prints in drive-in theaters that, as a result of having toured the country one theater at a time, looked as though they had been dragged behind a car several times before being projected; he knows the value of every scratch and clumsy splice. Of course, having the benefit of adding the damage manually probably comes in handy--the washes of solid colors and the missing reels come into the picture, funnily enough, exactly where they're most effective. The lighting is also quite beautiful in that rough, low-budget 1970s way, where it makes everything harsh and textured and grainy.
I think what surprised and delighted me most about the film was the writing. Though I like Rodriguez's films, he's never blown me away with his storytelling prowess. Here, however, he's in rare form. Rather than merely making the plot a buildup to a gunfight, Rodriguez allows the characters to bounce off each other in unexpected ways, building tension between these two, taking that relationship in a completely unexpected direction. None of the characters are really good or bad in the cut-and-dry, black-and-white sense; people who seem virtuous suddenly turn out to be insane; villains become allies; agendas are hidden and exposed and redefined, and reality constantly shifts. Most impressive were the numerous lines of dialogue that turned into motifs or took on added significance when repeated later on. Perhaps working with Edgar Wright (Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz) on the phony trailer for "Don't" rubbed off on Robert. The only real flaw is that the 105-minute version, which is the only version I saw, goes on for perhaps a hair too long.
Planet Terror walks a pretty fine line between camp and genuine horror, but somehow in the midst of the gallons of gore, the guns that never need to reload, the gorgeous heroines in short skirts and tight tank tops, and the gas tanks that need very little persuasion to explode, it manages to emerge as a darkly comedic masterwork of the B-movie genre. I guarantee that you won't have more fun at the movies for a long time to come.