With their double-feature project "Grindhouse," directors Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez seek to revive a bit of cinematic history, namely the grindhouse: the flea-pit inner-city theaters of the 1970s (think NYC's old Times Square), with dodgy clientele, that inevitably had a double-feature of cheapo gore/sleaze/martial arts on the bill. Ah, for those halcyon days when you could walk down a trash-strewn sidewalk, dodging winos and junkie streetwalkers as you warily bee-lined toward a marquee that read:

NOW PLAYING TWO BIG HITS: "THE DEVIL IN MISS JONES ILSA," "SHE-WOLF OF THE SS."

Were those films really as awesomely crap as they look in hindsight? Tarantino and Rodriguez would certainly answer "yes" — though Rodriguez's opinion is suspect, since he was in grade school in the mid-'70s — but this critic begs to differ. Less so than the films: what was thrilling was the sensation that you were taking the plunge, entering a world of cinema where all bets were off, where "good taste" didn't apply, and lord knew what sort of mayhem would be served up. Words cannot describe the breathless, nervous anticipation as "Suspiria" flickered onto the screen, or when the first actress disrobed in "Tower of the Screaming Virgins."