text: I love dissing this movie. My peers always try their best to defend it, probably out of love for Quentin Tarantino or Harvey Keitel, but they'll never convince me that this one should be treasured. Here's some huge reasons why: A: The plot goes from kidnapping road trip movie to vampire-inhabited strip bar slasher flick with no set-up whatsoever. Suddenly something very real turns into something very fake, which is like sitting the audience down to a Thanksgiving feast then exploding it with dynamite. B: That untalented Juliette Lewis is in it. C: Preposterous ideas abound such as actual torso-and-leg guitars, brothers with the last name "Gecko," bad vampire make-up jobs, Cheech Marin playing three characters (?), and a crotch-based gun that only fires when "erect" and belongs to a guy who goes by "Sex Machine." If Robert Rodriguez didn't pathetically try to be so innovative with his violence, I might've had fun with this obvious popcorn flick. The whole project's like he got the ideas by playing with action figures. The only thing even close to being considered my favorite scene is George Clooney's laugh-out-loud cheesy monologue after he kills his blood-sucking, horny-for-children, terrible-acting brother. I swear I think they thought it up right then and there. This movie's out to offend, and ends up offending those who want the offensive. Horrible movie.