Grindhouse: Drive In, Bleed Out #1 Review

Grindhouse: Drive In, Bleed Out #1 Review It’s back, it’s bloody, and it’s even better.

Creative Staff:
Story and Letters: Alex de Campi
Art: R. M. Guéra
Colors: Giulia Brusco

What They Say:
Grindhouse is back from the dead, and it’s meaner, badder, and dirtier than ever! In the first of four new exploitation opuses, Scalped’s R. M. Guéra joins series writer Alex de Campi for “Slay Ride,” a brutal holiday tale of revenge and supernatural terror in the driven snow!

Content: (please note that content portions of a review may contain spoilers):
I was talking with my buddy Clem the other day. Now normally I don’t speak to Clem more’n once a year on account a him being dumber than a bag of hammers, but I ran into him at the Bowl-a-Rama and he was buying, so I figured a little talk wouldn’t hurt.

Anyway, we were talking about the Drive-In. We both grew up with ‘em and loved ‘em. We also loved Joe Bob Briggs, the guy that used to write about ‘em and host that show on TNT way back when they showed good stuff. We also got to talking about comics—something else we both liked. I had just read a preview copy of Alex de Campi’s new Grindhouse series and I was talking up a storm to just about anyone who’d listen.

“Why d’ya like it so much?” Clem asked after throwing a gutterball (I should mention that in addition to be dumber than a bag of hammers, Clem bowls just about as well).

“‘Cause it’s like those Drive-In movies we used to see, fulla boobs and blood and beasts and whatnot. Only a little better written.”

“Yeah? So what’s it about?” Miraculously, Clem managed to pick up his spare and he was grinning like a cheetah.

“Well, it takes place up in Canada around Christmastime. It’s all cold and dark and stuff up there and there’s maybe eight people living up there. Anyway, these three fellas, a clown that looks like Ronald MacDonald’s fat depraved brother, some guy that looks like Colonel Sanders crossed with your Uncle Joe—”

“You leave him outta this, he’s not been in jail for over a year.”

“—and some guy that looks like one of those British fox-huntin’ guys you see in paintings at ritzy places like The Holiday Inn. They’re all hungry for red meat, if you know what I mean, and sweeping through this town.

“There’s also this old woman called Wolf Mother or something, whose son and grandson get killed by these three. She calls up her granddaughter, who’se kinda like Cece Wilkes over at the Pete Copeland’s bar only not so nice, and the two get a sleigh—”

“A what?” Clem gurgled around the lid of his PBR can. Bag of hammers.

“You know, like what Santa drives, only stuck to the ground. They load up on morphine—‘cause Wolf Mother’s got the Big C—and guns and they set out to clean town.”

“So what are these guys, anyway? Crazies?”

“No, they’re more like Santa. They’re mythical and made out of snow. I guess they come in like Santa, but ‘stead of bringing presents for the good people, they bring death and stuff to the bad people. It’s all metaphysical.” I deliberately used that word ‘cause I knew Clem wouldn’t know it. He just nodded and repeated it like he understood what I was saying.

“It’s a pretty looking book, too,” I said. “There’s this one scene where the grandson gets his head blown off and you see his skull and brains go all over the Christmas presents. And there were little touches that were nice, like having the tree branches look like demon faces and stuff.”

“You know,” Clem said, holding up his bowling ball and kissing it for luck like he always does. I tell him he’s gonna get cancer of the lips one of these days from doing that, but he don’t listen. “You should write a review in a style of Joe Bob since it sounds like something he’d like.”

“Clem, nobody’s gonna want to read that,” I said. He then bowled his first strike in something like ten years and I resolved to start talking to him ever two years.

In Summary:
Here are those Grindhouse totals: Two breasts (although there are some nice shots of the hero in some low cut shirts), three beasts, six dead bodies including three dogs, one old morphine addict lady, three gallons blood (kinda low for Grindhouse), evil aborted clown children made of snow, cane fu, morphine fu, shotgun fu, Colonel Sanders fu. Four stars. Josh says check it out.

Grade: A +

Age Rating: N/A, but obviously not for kids.
Released By: Dark Horse
Release Date: 12 November 2014
MSRP: $3.99

Grindhouse: Drive In, Bleed Out #1 Review