I have a problem with any movie based heavily on cars. They always affect me a bit too much, and usually not for the best. Here’s an example:
After I saw Grindhouse, I sped all the way home. Not just like a little speeding, I mean a lot speeding. I had the highway to myself, so I just put the hammer down. Not all the way, but farther than I usually speed. After watching Paul W.S. Anderson’s remake of the 1975 cult classic Death Race 2000, I wanted to strap some .50 caliber machine guns onto the roof of my 1992 Buick four-door and drop a chunk of 6-inch-thick steel armor plating onto the jerk who tailgated me all the way home.
If you’re ready to go out and run down old ladies for extra points, read my Death Race review here. Actually, they took out the points system in this one, which is a shame. I loved the scene below.
Which only goes to show that even the fearsome Frankenstein has a 100% red-blooded American sense of humor!