Image from Movie Tribune.
You probably know that the movie’s genesis was the Grindhouse duo of movies directed by Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez; fake trailers separated the two showings. The trailers were so successful that plans were launched to make full-length movies of them, and Hobo with a Shotgun is the second, following Rodriguez’s own Machete.
The title is self explanatory, and the plot is simple. A nameless hobo, played with grit and glee by Rutger Hauer, arrives in a new town, anxious to start a new life for himself. But it’s a town run by a merciless boss and his Ray-Ban-wearing sons; crime isn’t just in fashion, it’s the law. There’s a child-molesting Santa Claus. Every cop is corrupt. It’s like walking through Detroit at night. I kid, I’ve never had to do that. But it’s bad.
And soon our antihero is embroiled in do-gooding on the behalf of a put-upon prostitute (Molly Dunsworth), saving her from the inevitable rape by one of the sons. And then he gets his hand on the titular gun, and there’s nary a scene that’s not absolutely soaked in crimson from thence on.
Look, don’t look for logic and realism here. It’s not supposed to be real, it’s supposed to be visceral violence. It’s supposed to gross you out. There are decapitations. There are children murdered in cold blood. There are ice skates to the back. There are large, knight-like warriors – a pair known as The Plague – who look like a cross between Monty Python’s The Black Knight and a barbeque grill. There are entrails and sundry organs. It is not a movie for kids, is what I’m getting at here. Heck, it’s not even rated.
So, obviously, most people out there aren’t going to like this movie, full stop. It’s not only not everyone’s cup of tea, it’s really the cup of tea of only a small percentage of us. But those who do like this will really get into it. It captures the spirit of the time it’s trying to encapsulate. It’s horrific, slimy, disturbing, degenerate fun.
Hobo with a Shotgun: ***
