Grindhouse’s classification. And yep, that description of Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez’s cinematic experiment — a lovely, bloody “fuck you” of a pop diorama valentine in a very precious liberal arts school fine art class — just about covers all the
major bases. Yet the movie is also notable for the manner in which it coyly sidesteps (its faux trailers notably excepted) a certain staple of the grindhouse and exploitation genre: namely, leading lady nudity.

A love scene between McGowan and Freddy Rodriguez in Planet Terror is trimmed down and interrupted by a feigned missing reel, and a much discussed lap dance in Tarantino’s Death Proof is given the same treatment. One can call this subversion, certainly, but it also feels
like a bit of a cop-out, given that the same “joke” is effectively deployed
twice. Toss in the fact that Rodriguez allegedly had an indiscretion with McGowan on the set of Planet
Terror — an affair that resulted in the implosion of his marriage with wife
Elizabeth Avellán, also Grindhouse‘s producer — and it feels additionally
suspicious. And a bit disingenuous. Just a bit…

It’ll be interesting to see how the leering fanboy crowd reacts to this — if they’re too caught up in the respective stories to care, or it becomes wordlessly emblematic of a greater frustration with the movie(s). For what it’s worth, in my opinion the bit works much better in Planet Terror, not merely because that segment comes first, but also because it occurs later within that movie, and “at least” happens mid-coitus; Rodriguez sustains the grindhouse touchstones and blemishes better, and it thus feels like less of a gyp. In Death Proof, you can almost hear Tarantino’s stuttering, self-satisfied laugh, though there are rumors that the missing scene will pop up in longer international (and, by extension, DVD) cuts of the film. Meanwhile, for a full review pass at the movie, this time from FilmStew, click here.