I’m not sure why I thought it was a good idea to spend three hours with Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino, but I saw “Grindhouse” on Friday. Aside from further cementing my view that Rosario Dawson is one of the hottest women on the planet (though she’s starting to look a bit skeletal; get that girl a cheeseburger, stat!), it was… er, a bit of a grind.

Conceptually, it’s pretty dumb to spend $60 million to perfectly emulate a double feature of movies that probably cost $600K or less to make; that, my friends, is why these are B-movies. It isn’t a chosen aesthetic; it’s one mandated by limitations both budgetary and, lets face it, talent. For every Martin Scorsese that found the artistry in cheese like “Boxcar Bertha” in the early 70s, there were dozens of Doris Wishman’s pumping out swill like “Deadly Weapons” (featuring the appropriately named Chesty Morgan, who in the movie’s best scene, clubs a guy to death with her enormous boobs). (more…)

300 is one of the gayest movies ever made, not that there’s anything wrong with that. It’s about a bunch of sweaty, half-naked steroidal men fighting an enormous army led by a drag queen who sports all manner of body piercings and a giant codpiece.

It’s also a videogame, full of in-engine, 360-degree spins and pre-rendered backgrounds. Gamers may reflexively reach for their mouse, keyboard, or gamepad to reposition the camera for maximum viewing impact. It shares with games an obsession/fetishization with cool violence, cheesy macho posturing, and an adolescent view of sexuality. (Most women are useless unless they’re lesbians, in which case they’re awesome! The oracle has nipples that could cut glass!)

It’s a giant comic book… oh, wait, that’s intentional. Never mind, then. (more…)