Russell has nothing but praise for Tarantino. When it comes to the director’s fanboy love of the actor’s early films, though, he’s both flattered and a bit creeped out. ”He knows every scene of every movie I’ve ever done, which is a great feeling. But I don’t really understand why Quentin is so fanatical about movies. They’re just movies.”
And there, Mr. Plissken, is the essential dividing line between the cinephiles, obsessives and fanboys, and everyone else who just wants a few flickering images to take their minds off a long day. Also at EW, Tarantino and Rodriguez geek out over their favorite exploitation posters, here.
At her blog at Variety, Anne Thompson writes of "Grindhouse"’s LA premiere:
The audience groaned and screamed and ducked in their seats with sheer pleasure throughout the three-hour running time. At the tent party afterwards the debates ranged on which trailers were best, was Rodriguez better than Tarantino, etc. It all depends on your own taste. You could argue that red-blooded males will love both, while more discerning males and women will vote for the Tarantino. But who knows?
Turning from the film to the genre it salutes, the New York Post‘s Lou Lumenick pays a visit to New York’s last grindhouse theater, the Fair Theatre in East Elmhurst, Queens: "When I begin asking the ticket-taker questions, he summons an assistant manager who said he needed to check with his lawyer. He later told me he was advised not to talk about the theater ‘because of the lawsuit.’"
My opinion is firm that no one has ever walked out of a movie because of a ragged pan. People have walked out of movies or sent them back after looking at 10 seconds of them, saying, "This is pretty doggone dull; I don’t want to see any more of this." Word of mouth can break you in half or word of mouth can make you a giant. It depends on the entertainment value. It doesn’t depend on the critics saying, "Gee. Look at the miserable level of acting in this movie."
Suffice to say, the prints from Tarantinoâ€™s collection have not been hermetically sealed in a humidor vault to protect them from the onslaught of elements that lend themselves to the decay of celluloid. I realized, 10 or so minutes into Rolling Thunder, that I was glad for all the rumble and warble and popping and thumping and scratches on this print. As pro-restoration and preservation as I am, all of the prints Iâ€™ve seen so far in this festival feel like nothing so much as genuine surviving documents of a certain kind of theatrical distribution and exhibition that is almost as lost as this low-budget strain of B-movie is itself.
+ Bloodbath and Beyond (Entertainment Weekly)
+ Poster Boys (Entertainment Weekly)
+ Grindhouse Premieres in L.A. (Variety)
+ SCHLOCK AROUND THE CLOCK (NY Post)
+ H.G. Lewis: The Godfather of Gore (Greencine)
+ SEX AND VIOLENCE x 2: GRINDHOUSE 2007 REPORT (Sergio Leone and the Infield Fly Rule)