Crisp, erotic, kinky.
A naughty doctor. A medical scenario fantasy.
I will not apologize for finding the no-nonsense style of Dr. Dakota Block to be sexy. If I did she may punish me.
As great as Michael Biehn, Michael Parks, Josh Brolin and Freddy Rodriguez are in PLANET TERROR, this is very much a female driven piece. Whether it be through their own actions, or as the motivation for the actions of nearly every male in the film - they are the driving force. A shining example of grindhouse cinema; beautiful, aggressive, and flawed women taking control of the action and pushing the story forward. These kittens looked so good, our jaws hit the floor, and our popcorn boxes had holes in them.
I was a fan of ALIAS, and movies like RESIDENT EVIL and ULTRAVIOLET certainly have their place. But what both features in GRINDHOUSE offered that most other movies don't, was the chance for audiences to see ordinary women ascend into the extraordinary. These women are not highly trained superheroes, agents, or mutants. They are just regular, fucked up broads, in the form of a damaged go-go dancer and a neglected anesthesiologist.
Before anyone makes the obvious comparison, I'm going to go on record; MAD MONEY is not an example of this kind of ascension. While those women (Diane Keaton, Queen Latifah and Katie Holmes) did in fact pull quite a boner, and stick it to the Man, they did so by basically behaving like buffoons rather than empowered women. I liked Katie Holmes better when she was nervous collateral for a bottle of Ecstasy in GO. I liked Diane Keaton better when she wasn't asking Michael Corleone about his business. I've never really liked Queen Latifah, so she can fuck off in peace.
When we come to Dr. Dakota and her suit-up scene, she is still a timid woman. On the brink of leaving her marriage for her lesbian lover (empowering indeed), she's just starting her graveyard shift at the hospital. In the next room, her domineering, dick of a husband, the other Dr. Block (Brolin), is treating a severely infected patient when he suddenly finds himself in need of Dakota and her "friends."
We cut to her preparing a large, golden syringe, her eyes on it as the tip sprays. The shot pulls back, and we see her bare leg outstretched, wrapped in a heavy black garter belt. Resting the needle on the desk in front of her, she opens a leather case to reveal several pocket protectors, each holding a yellow, a blue and a red needle. She makes her choice, sliding one of the protectors into her lab coat before turning our attention back to her thigh. Close-up shot as she holsters the gold syringe in a loop on the garter.
She stands up, and walks towards us. A look of "fuck off" in her eyes.
Then just like that, it's over. All too brief. Quality over quantity.
The World Series is on as I write this, which is good. I can keep my mind on baseball.
At least until I see Dr. Dakota about my prostate.