From Dusk Till Dawn (1996)

From Dusk Till Dawn (R)

"Hackula, Dead and Loving it"

The deadly Gecko brothers, fresh from a bank robbery and jail break, are  causing havoc throughout southern Texas, take a ex-Preacher, his RV and two children hostage, using them to sneak over the border to Mexico where they can live out their lives in the sun.  The only thing that can halt their spree are their own self destructive tendencies, one decent man's spirit, and a brood of devil worshiping Aztec bloodsuckers in Robert Rodriquez' (El Mariachi) direction of one of Quentin Tarantino's best action scripts.

FDTD is two movies with a swerve connecting them, arriving at a swift pace and razor sharp dialogue.  George Clooney, in his first starring role plays the brains of the Gecko brothers.  He steals the show from the get go, shedding the OR scrubs for a professional thief with a black suit and neck tattoos that proved he would soon be Hollywood's go-to bachelor superstar.  Quentin himself plays the other, seedier Gecko, one with a predilection to rape, murder and hallucinations (QT actually nails this role).  Their relationship is center to the first half of the movie, a buddy dynamic that is loving as it is demented.  The characters that cross their paths are likewise well defined and cannon fodder for the Gecko's mayhem, centered by headliner Harvey Keitel (Bad Lieutenant) as the burned out preacher with a dead wife on his soul.  Together they make it through Texas and to a low life bar across the border, drinking and waiting for sunrise and their escort to the good life.  And that's where the second movie begins and things almost fall apart.

What once was a on-the-lam crime film with red hot dialogue (some of Tarantino's snappiest and most believable) with good action and vibrating with testosterone injected one liners oh-so-bad-guys you love to hate, suddenly transmogrifies into a supernatural gore fest with silly cheesy effects and over the top ridiculousness.  It is jarring, but not altogether unsuccessful.  There are ideas aplenty, ideas rushed onto the screen and smashed with gleeful vigor (as often is the case with Rodriguez' films).  Some of the make up does not hold up well, bad masks and awful morph effects straight from the 90s lowbudget wave (RRs bread and butter).  Prudction desings like a biker (infamous VFX guru Tom Savini) with a six-shooter for a penis, the lovely Salma Hayek gets a makeover only a snake mother could love, blacksploitation star Fred Williamson gets a makeup job that looks so cheap in closeups it looks like it came off the Halloween rack at Walmart.

Yet somehow Clooney and Keitel push through this madness and deliver an emotional, action fueled mad house of bat-killing frenzy.  QT's script is subdued in just the right ways (no overlong conversations about some off topic pop culture wizbangs), RRs manic camera links to the ridiculous on screen story very well (demonic Mariachi bands aside).  There is gravitas and red-gravy spraying everywhere, the film is a half greatness and half lunacy.  Which half appeals to you is all a matter of taste (with a side of tequila, salt, lime and bloody body shots).

7 Cheechs Double Cameos out of 10 (GOOD)