Nigel Honeybone

From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series

Second ImageThe first season of From Dusk Till Dawn The Series (1996) has just been released on DVD this month along with a re-issue of the original film! Earlier this year director Robert Rodriguez adapted his cult classic From Dusk Till Dawn (1996) for television, and launched his new El Ray cable channel with the series. Recently screened on SBS TV, it reprises and expands upon the events of the movie, with Rodriguez directing four of the ten episodes: “There was so much I wanted to explore in that movie that I didn’t get to, and I delved a little deeper into the Mesoamerican mythologies – and Aztec and Mayan mythologies – and where vampire culture could have existed back then, and found fascinating stuff!” (courtesy San Antonio Express News).

Unlike most television shows based on movies, From Dusk Till Dawn The Series is amazingly faithful to the original film, no doubt due to Rodriguez’a involvement. On the lam from the law, ruthless desperadoes Seth and Richie Gecko coerce an ex-preacher and his kids to smuggle them over the Mexican border where sanctuary awaits. Holing-up for the night at the Titty Twister, a sleazy stripperama ‘for bikers and truckers only’, the group are shocked to discover the barely-clad babes are more than willing to suck – blood! After a stripper named Satanico Pandemonium suddenly morphs into a reptilian vampire queen, this hard-edged crime caper undergoes a total transformation into a frenetic over-the-top orgy of dismemberment, decapitation, exploding heads and squishy bodily breakdowns.

Having chilled-out the crime thriller with his own brand of conceited cool, Quentin Tarantino‘s experience as a video store geek came into play with his ebullient (and typically offensive) screenplay for From Dusk Till Dawn, a pastiche of VHS schlockers like The Evil Dead (1981) and Vamp (1986), with the polished Panavision of Sam Peckinpah‘s The Wild Bunch (1969) and The Getaway (1972). Joining forces with energetic filmmaker Rodriguez, fresh from El Mariachi (1992) and Desperado (1995), the pair fashioned an affectionately trashy, frequently hilarious and consistently gobsmacking love letter to the halcyon days of Grindhouse drive-in cinema, when breasts and beasts ruled!

Summarily exploiting, lampooning and re-inventing all the requisite ingredients of the vampire genre, from the bullet-hole sunbeams of Near Dark (1987) to the holy water pistols of The Lost Boys (1987), this thoroughly mean-spirited mongrel of gangster-thriller, road-movie and blood-sucking black comedy comes complete with a pedigree cast. George Clooney (as Seth Gecko) is right near the beginning of his brilliant movie career, making the seamless transition from E.R. medic to hardened thug. George turns on the smoldering charisma in his first leading role, and an instant star is born. Yes, George appeared in such Hollywood dreck like Batman And Robin (1997) and Ocean’s Thirteen (2007), but then he takes all that lovely money and spends it on producing his own superior films and supporting promising new filmmakers.

While Tarantino is convincingly creepy as the drooling sex-fiend Richie (are you sure he’s acting?), it’s a shamelessly self-indulgent performance that dictates he’s better off behind the camera for the rest of his movie career. The ever-dependable Harvey Keitel remains incredibly stone-faced throughout as the former evangelist and, in an unexpected move, Juliette Lewis momentarily shrugs off her ‘scrag-tag’ for ‘action heroine’. The supporting ensemble cast is an equally inspired roll call of drive-in stalwarts and Rodriguez regulars, including Cheech Marin in three separate roles (best is the Titty Twister’s pussy spruiker), blaxploitation veteran Fred Williamson, John Saxon, Danny Trejo, Salma Hayek and gore effects guru Tom Savini as a Harley-hugger named ‘Sex Machine’ with a killer codpiece, his first decent acting role since George Romero‘s Knightriders (1981) opposite award-winning actor Ed Harris.

Unapologetically outrageous, overwhelmingly over-the-top, and an absolute hoot to boot, this post-drive-in salute to salsa splatter is pure B-movie heaven. The DVD of the 1996 film I saw was a collector’s edition fully loaded with more extras than the Titty Twister has titties, making it an absolute must-have for fans. A thirteen-minute featurette called Hollywood Goes To Hell is a jokey, backslapping session and profile on versatile director Rodriguez, including testimonials from Steve Buschemi and (of all people) Jennifer Beals. It also feeds the already gorged ego of Tarantino, whose motormouth audio commentary with Rodriguez is a further highlight. The Art Of Making The Movie features behind-the-scenes footage of four sequences: The Opening, The Hostage, Titty Twister and Battle Three, all with Rodriguez commentary.

On The Set is collection of assorted clips and interesting anecdotes. For instance, Rodriguez reveals how an explosion burned down the Titty Twister set on the first day of shooting. But the real gold here is a five-minute collection of deleted scenes and alternate takes with optional commentary from Rodriguez and effects supervisor Greg Nicotero. Get ready to revel in some wild and crazy creature effects that didn’t make the final cut, together with lots of miscellaneous biting and bloodletting and additional gore effects trimmed to appease the ratings board. Look out for an outrageous tribute to John Carpenter‘s The Thing (1982) and some additional fun involving Salma Hayek: She doesn’t give head, she takes it! And it’s with that rather tasteless image in mind that I bid you a fond farewell till next time when I have the opportunity to inflict upon you the tortures of the damned from that dark, bottomless pit known as Hollywood for…the Sydney Arts Guide! Toodles!

Published by Nigel Honeybone

My stage debut was as Hamlet's dead father, portraying him as a tall posh skeleton. This triumph was followed in Richard III, as the remains of a young prince which I interpreted as a tall posh skeleton. I began attracting starring roles, and was propelled into the film world when, in Psycho (1960), I wore women's clothing for the very first time. The seed of an idea was planted and, after working with director Ed Wood for five years, I realised the unlimited possibilities of tall posh skeletons who dressed in women's clothing. I went on to wear women's clothing in thirteen major motion pictures, including the Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) and Star Wars (1977), heartbreaking as the remains of Aunt Beru. With the onslaught of special effects came the demise of real actors in these sorts of roles. After modeling for CGI skeletons in Total Recall (1990) and Toys (1992), the only possible step forward for a tall posh skeleton was television, imparting my knowledge and expertise of the arts. I currently host THE SCHLOCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW seen on TVS Sydney Channel 44 every Friday evening, presenting the very best of the worst films you're ever likely to see.