”Sure, it got lousy reviews when it played theaters,” you may say to yourself, ”but this hipster Grand Hotel is the work of four hot independent directors (Quentin Tarantino, Robert Rodriguez, Allison Anders, and Alexandre Rockwell), and it’s got an eclectic cast and four different stories. So how bad can it be?” Well, not only is Four Rooms that bad — it’s worse. In a way, the movie is perversely fascinating; rarely has such a multifaceted gob in the face been shot at audiences. But fascinating does not mean fun, and this film is only useful as a case study of what happens when indie filmmakers believe their own hype. D-
Posted July 19 1996 — 12:00 AM EDT
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