Review: Why Grindhouse Empowers Women

My mother believed the first movie I ever saw in a theater was Herbie the Love Bug. Technically the first movie I really saw was Barbarella with Jane Fonda. I was 5 and snuggled up with a load of pillows, blankets and sleeping younger siblings in the back of our station wagon. I was supposed to be asleep and was by the time the drive-in showed the second feature. But my movie tastes were forever molded by the time I saw a room full of dolls with sharp teeth attack Jane Fonda.

So I guess this explains why my best friend and I were in a theater with only about 15 other people to watch Grind House. There is no way I could take my husband as Pulp Fiction was a little much for him. Although he handled The Rocky Horror Picture pretty well.

Grind House, written by Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodiguez is fun. It isn't deep, and the cinematography will make you gasp, not in a Lord of the Rings way but more in a Jeffery Dahmer kind of way. If you can handle a one legged stripper with a machine gun leg then this is your kind of movie. I know exactly which scene I would use for my desktop if I weren't a mommy and in charge of not scarring my kids for life.

The one thing I always take away from a Tarantino movie is, that he really shouldn't be in his own movies. Really, really. I don't think he can act and he looks like the Jack-o-lantern in my back garden I left there last Halloween. Thankfully he just plays a couple of irritating characters that have little screen time.

Grind House is over 3 hours long, so plan accordingly. We bought regular size pop and visited the bathroom right before the movie started. Save some snacks if you like, if not there is a perfect place in the film to leave and take care of business.

The style of the movie is paying homage to 70's grind house flicks, the type of movie with lots of action, cleavage and little dialog. Well except for the fact that Tarantino doesn't know what little dialog means. We will come back to that later.