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Grindhouse
Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez, working with enormous, wide-ranging casts (including uncredited A-listers, indie youngbloods, and veterans of genuine low-budget potboilers) serve up two "features": Rodriguez's paranoid, blood-and-pustule-squirting zombiethon Planet Terror and Tarantino's serial-killer-on-wheels revenge saga Death Proof. Each feature is replete with simulated print-scratches, blurry patches, missing reels.
Then there are the interstitial ratings bumpers, "Our Feature Presentation" cards, and trailers for nonexistent films, each representing a genre that was part of the core curriculum of exploitation cinema. (They're all tasty, but my favorite was the one by the Shaun of the Dead/Hot Fuzz guys, for a sub-Amicus-style horror feature with a hilariously apt title.) I'm almost surprised that Tarantino and Rodriguez didn't convince their patrons, Harvey and Bob Weinstein, to coat the floors of the theaters themselves with the very special shoe-sole-sticking gunk that was an unavoidable aspect of the real grindhouse experience.
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• The Reaping
• The Hoax
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