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In the Land of Women, First Snow, The Reaping

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GRINDHOUSE Designed as an homage to the low-budget exploitation flicks that ran rampant in past decades (most notably the 1970s), Grindhouse finds cinematic bad boys Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez attempting to create their own down-and-dirty double-bill, two grisly features (complete with bogus trailers, the best being Werewolf Women of the S.S.) that would have been right at home playing in a disreputable Times Square movie theater circa 1974. It's a terrific idea, but unfortunately, the quality of the individual works veers all over the map. Rodriguez's Planet Terror is tons of fun, not only in its gleeful siphoning from George Romero's zombie classics but also in the manner in which Rodriguez insures that every frame looks like it came from a beat-up film print buried in somebody's garage since the 70s. As for the story, it's the usual slime-and-grime saga of a plucky band of survivors fighting off hordes of shambling, oozing creatures who have all been infected by a deadly virus. But while Planet Terror is the bomb, Tarantino's Death Proof is simply a bomb. Did he not understand the assignment? Presented in a blemish-free style full of show-off techniques and scene after scene of dull chatfests, this ends up resembling not so much a grindhouse flick as a Quentin Tarantino movie -- and a bad one at that. As Stuntman Mike, a psycho who uses his own souped-up vehicle as a weapon with which to murder comely young women, Kurt Russell is the story's MVP, but Tarantino too often leaves him stranded on the side of the road. Planet Terror: ***1/2; Death Proof: *1/2; Overall: **1/2

THE HOAX There's a fleet-footed exuberance to The Hoax that suits the film just perfectly. Although based on a true story, the picture displays a freewheeling style that's more attuned to the rhythms of Richard Gere's performance than any sort of somber veracity. Gere stars as Clifford Irving, the author who in the early 1970s convinced the bigwigs at McGraw-Hill that he had landed an exclusive interview with reclusive billionaire Howard Hughes. There was absolutely no truth to the boast, but with dollar signs dancing in their eyes, the publishing house accepted Irving's flimsy evidence as proof, a decision that resulted in the company handing over an incredible sum for publishing rights. Gere has always excelled at playing amoral yet charming creeps, and he strikes gold once again; while attempts on the part of scripter William Wheeler (adapting Irving's tell-all book) to imbue the character with some degree of sympathy fall flat, Gere is skilled enough to nevertheless add some complex shadings. Also memorable is Alfred Molina, sweating up a storm as Irving's nervous accomplice in the scam. With its allusions to Richard Nixon and Watergate, Hallstrom and Wheeler firmly establish the timeframe of their film. Yet if anything, the movie feels more like 2007 than 1971, given that fraudulent writers (like Stephen Glass) have proliferated in recent years and "identity theft" has become a commonplace expression. The Hoax might be intended as a cautionary tale, but in today's climate, it stands a better chance of emerging as an inspirational training film. ***

HOT FUZZ The team that brought us Shaun of the Dead -- writer-director Edgar Wright, writer-star Simon Pegg and costar Nick Frost -- now take a shot or 12 at the police procedural with Hot Fuzz, a funny if distressingly overlong comedy that also manages to evoke memories of The Wicker Man, Plague of the Zombies and other spooky yarns centering on eccentric villagers inhabiting the less-traveled paths of the British Isles. Pegg plays Nicholas Angel, a dynamic, by-the-book cop who's so efficient at nailing the bad guys that his three superiors (cameos by familiar English actors) ship him off to the remote hamlet of Sandford so he won't keep embarrassing the rest of the London force. Upon arriving in Sandford, he realizes that his commanding officer (Jim Broadbent) is a flake and his peers are morons, although he does strike up a friendship with Danny Butterman (Frost), a well-meaning cop who finds spiritual guidance in the movies Bad Boys II and Point Break. But a string of gruesome accidents convinces Angel that some dark secret exists in Sandford, and he enlists the bumbling Butterman to help him get to the bottom of the mystery. Hot Fuzz appears to be England's attempt to prove to Hollywood that it can make brawny, blustery blockbusters every bit as noisy as those churned out by Tinseltown on a weekly basis, but even this pissing-contest mentality can't drown out the satiric edge that earns this a recommendation. But did the film have to feature more faux-endings than even The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King? ***