All right, film watchers, let’s watch film. Dynamic duo Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino, long before they teamed up for the exploitation classic Grindhouse, joined forces to bring us the gangster, horror, action treasure, From Dusk Till Dawn, the film that made George Clooney a man. With Tarantino holding the pen and Rodriguez holding the camera, how could you not expect sparks? Clooney and T are the Gecko brothers, heading to Mexico after a bank robbery, and leaving a grisly trail of carnage in their wake. When Seth and Richie take a family hostage (is Harvey Keitel playing a preacher?) and use them as cover to cross the border, the gang stop at a bar to await the arrival of the Gecko brother’s connection. What unfolds in Mexico is a plot twist almost Hitchcockian in its warped ambitiousness. Clooney showed the world that he was more than a cable actor, and he also open hand slapped all the doubters who chalked him up as a TV pretty boy. Guess he showed them. Tom Savini is dynamite as Sex Machine, and Inglorious Bastard himself Fred Williamson is still built like a brick shithouse as Vietnam vet Frost. In true QT and RR fashion, it’s cult meets mainstream, and the result is a truly entertaining shockfest that everyone seems to forget about when recapping the achievements of either filmmaker.