Planet Terror failed to terrorise with its blood-bubble bursting infestation. The first feature of Rodriguez/Tarantino’s homage to the “Grindhouse” exploitation genre, is one that exercises the practical magic of independently produced B-movies. No dramatic theatricality to be seen here, on the misty darkened roads of rural Texas where “Fergalicious” Fergie screams the countryside down whilst being devoured by infected military units. This is Planet Terror, baby. The only quality that matters is the amount of bloodshed that splatters onto the screen. Rodriguez may have directed, produced, writ...