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What I Love

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Even most of the folks who weren’t gaga about Grindhouse admitted that they loved the fake trailers. Everyone has their favorite — Robert Rodriguez’s for the degraded ghetto revenge flick Machete, the class-trash British don’t-go-in-the-attic spoof Don’t, from Hot Fuzz director Edgar Wright — but the one that still tickles me the most each time I unspool it in my brain is Eli Roth’s deliciously spot-on holiday horror-flick send-up, Thanksgiving. What makes it a classic are the priceless details: the way that the killer, with his mask and ax and goofy pilgrim hat, is never quite seen, as if that somehow made him a Spectre of Mystery; the terrible sick joke of the bouncing cheerleader and the blade; and, more than anything else, the voice of the narrator — that doom-laden yet vaguely amateurish basso-robot monotone (”This year…there will be no leftovers”), as if the whole thing were being read by a kid doing his worst Darth Vader impersonation. Roth has now said that he’s planning an entire feature of parody trailers. I say: The more of them the merrier.

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