From Dusk Till Dawn (1996)

Robert Rodriguez

USA

108 min, color, English

Were they psychos, or...?
They look like psychos? They were vampires. Psychos do not explode when sunlight hits 'em, I don't give a fuck how crazy they are!

I finally got around to reviewing this B-movie that masquerades as a mainstream film, the occasion being my acquisition of the 2-disc special edition DVD. It has been a long time since I saw it for the first time and, I am sorry to say, the film has lost much of its luster in the meantime. It has become lackluster, so to speak, in more ways than one.

I blame Quentin Tarantino.

As I am sure everybody (who would read this) knows by now, the first half of the film follows the murderous run of the Gecko brothers Seth (George Clooney) and Richard (Tarantino) from somewhere in Texas to somewhere in Mexico. On the way, they kill a bunch of people and take a family hostage. Then they end up in a bar full of bloodsucking freaks and, after a brief sensual dance by Salma Hayek, they spill gallons of red paint and juggle numerous props vaguely resembling body parts. Some more cursing later dawn comes.

Tarantino is the guy who wrote the script, and, as I said, he's the one who fucked it up. Rodriguez has a good eye for decent cinematography, and an excellent editing hand, so in that department the film shines. It also has uncommonly high production values for schlock of this type. Among entries of its ilk, From Dusk Till Dawn is clearly above the bar. But this is not enough.

My guess is that the authors reasoned that if you got two bad guys (one of whom is somewhat likeable) and they do a lot of bad things, you start to, well, not like them a whole lot. But then they confront something even worse than themselves and you, perhaps against your own better judgment, find yourself rooting for them. They may be sons of bitches, but they are our sons of bitches, or something like that. I recall hearing the authors mention something about letting the audience spend time with the characters so it would care what happens to them.

Good idea, right? Wrong. Spending time with the Gecko brothers made we want to do things to them that the vampires would shudder to imagine. Tarantino has lost the plot if he thinks that any remotely intelligent person would somehow care what happens to a really obnoxious, pathetic rapist and his bro. Unless what happens to them involves getting them dismembered in very unpleasant gory detail. What really scares me is that I think Tarantino played himself.

Why do people think that cursing somehow makes them cool? (I am sure it does, especially to the target audience.) Is a barrage of expletives really a substitute for witty dialogue? I think not. Unfortunately, this is the direction where all hip and cool flicks now seem to have headed to. Witness the complete degeneration of Kevin Smith's trademark oneliners from Clerks to Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back.

Clooney was, well, Clooney. He can do intense, and he can do likeable. The film would have flopped much worse if it were not for him. Harvey Keitel as the Jacob 'mean motherfuckin' servant of God' Fuller didn't do it for me. He's angry enough to quit his day job as a pastor but has not lost his faith sufficiently to bless water. God has gotten a raw deal on this one. Juliette Lewis plays Juliette Lewis, as always. It's really getting tiresome.

Highlights of the film: there are two. There's Tom Savini playing Sex Machine. This guy is just cool. (I also liked the blooper where one of his, hmmm.... steel balls, falls off.) And then, in a category of her own, there's Salma Hayek as Santanico Pandemonium, who unfortunately remains topful throughout. George Clooney also delivered one of the better speeches about vampires I have yet heard.

To conclude my anti-Tarantino rant (and believe me, I got a lot more where this is coming from), the guy is just a self-involved imitator. 'Self-involved' because nobody else would finance a full-length feature on the making of his own film, especially one that dwells on everything from the epic struggle with the greedy labor union to the intricacies of a 'best-ass' contest. Full Tilt Boogie was an incredible bore, I remember falling asleep at least three times during the 15 minutes I watched from its 100. The occasional Clooney fun remark just isn't enough. And, Tarantino, boy you aren't funny: the keg joke????? Give me a break! The fucking every girl on the set? I will never have an erection again if this guy could nail Salma. (By the way, Salma, I want to be your dog.)

'Imitator' because his big contribution to American cinema is to take stuff people have been doing in Hong Kong for years, do a pale re-write, and then present it to the unusually myopic audiences here. Over-hyped like Britney Spears and with exactly the same amount of original talent, Tarantino is destined for stardom. Unfortunately.

The DVD is passable but since it is the only way to see (repeatedly) Salma Hayek dance with a snake, it is a must-have.

March 11, 2003