Editor’s Note: This was originally published for FANGORIA on October 18, 2007, and we’re proud to share it as part of The Gingold Files.
More than once on Dimension/Genius’ stand-alone DVD release of his Planet Terror half of Grindhouse, writer/director Robert Rodriguez makes reference to an eventual “double-disc” version of his film. Since the edition that just hit the market already spreads its wealth between two platters, perhaps he means “double-dip”? Whatever the case, one hopes that any follow-up will showcase Grindhouse as it was shown in theaters, with Terror and Quentin Tarantino’s Death Proof paired up and buttressed by the faux trailers and other ephemera. (Unlike the Death Proof DVD, this one includes one of those previews, Rodriguez’s perfectly retro Machete.)
That’s because Planet Terror works somewhat better as half of a double bill than it does on its own. As noted in our original Grindhouse review, it’s high in over-the-top delights but rather low in substance; knowing that Tarantino’s half—more deliberately paced but meatier in character content—would follow took any onus off Rodriguez’s sizzle-over-steak approach. Nonetheless, Terror remains a blast on its own down-and-dirty, exploitative level, and the exaggerated splatter maintains its guilty-pleasure kick. Remarkably, this extended, unrated version reveals that little to none of its endless gush of gore was trimmed for the theatrical R, and this is also not quite as extended as Death Proof is in its own solo edition. The “Missing Reel” remains missing, while about 10 minutes of character moments have been restored, and add nice bits of shading while slowing the film’s hurtling pace not a bit.
Also new to this longer cut are a number of scene transitions that, as Rodriguez explains on his commentary, reflect the type of flourishes that a young filmmaker eager to impress would have put in his or her grindhouse flick back in the day. “Quality” is a relative term when describing the 1.85:1 transfer; on DVD, the image retains all the artificial dirt, scratches, distortions and other wear and tear it displayed in theaters, though the colors and clarity are first-rate. Much cleaner and very sharp is the in-your-ear Dolby Digital 5.1 sound, providing an intense directional audio experience at home that neither grindhouse nor drive-in audiences got to experience when those venues were flourishing.
On his commentary, Rodriguez explains the specific timing of that simulated celluloid deterioration, points out the theatrically deleted bits and assorted homages to films past and generally provides a solid overview of the production. Those who took umbrage at the director spending millions to make an intentionally cheap-looking product might get a wry chuckle out of his assertions that he struggled with a limited budget and schedule on Planet Terror, but it’s hard not to get caught up in his enthusiasm for the project, the low-rent cinema that inspired it and the many actors and crew who helped him get it in the can. There’s also an Audience Reaction Track which offers the experience of viewing the movie with tinnier audio, punctuated every so often by suspiciously post-dubbed-sounding cheers and applause. The movie disc also offers trailers and a gallery of too-small reproductions of assorted international posters.
It’s recommended that you listen to the commentary before sampling the featurettes on the second disc, since quite a bit of information strewn amongst the latter is also discussed in the former. The minidocumentaries lead off with Rodriguez’s traditional 10-Minute Film School—which actually runs about 12 minutes, in keeping with the excessive nature of the movie at hand. Rather than the instructional guide for aspiring filmmakers that the title suggests, this is a nicely detailed look at how digital magic was used to both create seamless illusions (Rose McGowan’s gun leg, etc.) and intentionally degrade the quality of the image. Even more impressive are the contributions of the stunt and physical FX folks explored in Sickos, Bullets and Explosions, in which the men in charge of those departments (Jeff Dashnaw and John McLeod, respectively) help explain how this action was achieved. Particularly notable is on-set footage from the film’s final major setpiece, in which Dashnaw guided McGowan through doing her own giant leap over a wall, and McLeod oversaw a gigantic explosion that evidently startled the hell out of the people in a passing airplane.
The rest of these segments deal with the movie’s acting ensemble, with Rodriguez heaping special praise on McGowan (not surprising, considering how things wound up going between the two of them) in The Badass Babes of Planet Terror. Both director and star relate how McGowan brought a lot of her own sensibilities to the role (Rodriguez had only a third of the script completed when he started casting, and wrote the rest with the actors he’d hired in mind), including the running joke about her character’s “useless talents,” while co-star Marley Shelton reveals how she used one of her own useless talents for a couple of squirmy onscreen moments. The Guys of Planet Terror (who are apparently not as bad-ass as the babes) get their say in their own segment, highlighted by genre veterans Michael Biehn and Jeff Fahey, who point out that although they have crossed paths in the business for decades, this was their first chance to actually work together.
The Friend, the Doctor and the Real Estate Agent demonstrates that even as he collaborates with Hollywood stars in his films, Rodriguez still finds room to put his pals and acquaintances before the cameras and assign them roles well-suited to their idiosyncrasies. But the most personal of the featurettes is Casting Rebel, the title of which is not a reference to the director’s maverick sensibilities, but to the name of his 6-year-old son, who plays Shelton’s kid in Planet Terror. Before you ask what kind of dad would put his preteen child on a set drowning in gore and firearms, check out the behind-the-scenes video in which Rodriguez is seen directing alternate takes involving Rebel of scenes right up through the movie’s end—all so that the tyke doesn’t realize that his character actually dies in the movie. Now that’s a man who’s dedicated to both his family and the magic of filmmaking.
