I’m in the airport now in DC. I’m flying to San Diego for my cousin’s wedding in LA. It should be fun. I haven’t seen my immediate family in almost a year (or is it two?) and I haven’t seen my extended family in about 7 years. My mom is hoping this wedding will be a real reunion, since most of the clan will be there. (These are the Lee’s and not the Snavely’s.)
In other news, last night I watched Grindhouse with my friend T. For those who don’t know, grindhouse, the name, describes a film format in which two movies are shown back to back with a small intermission. Frequently, these movies are pulpy b-flicks that offer quantity over quality.
But Grindhouse was really really great. Although I went into the theater, waiting to be disappointed. I don’t like Rodriguez and when he’s worked with Tarantino (in movies like Four Rooms– which I know some people enjoy) the results are a little flat. Not this time though. The Rodriguez part, Planet Terror, was tolerable and fun and as T says: Rodriguez interprets the idea of contemporary pulp as extreme camp. It’s all really a set up for Tarantino’s feature, Death Proof, which blows the car roof off. Tarantino loves old movies and old songs and old actors like Kurt Russell, but he matches it with a real skill at taking incredible shots and a mastery of a variety of styles. From scene to scene, the movie keeps you engaged with the often lauded “Asian” disregard for emotional continuity and with Tarantino’s obvious direction: that is, you realize that there is a director… and he basically can do whatever he wants.
At the end of the movie, which, imho is one of the best endings I’ve ever seen in a movie, you realize you’ve been watching something as emotionally sophisticated as say “Faster Pussycat Kill Kill” that Tarantino has transformed into a frothy, delicious mix of… well, I don’t what… but it tastes good.