Last night I blew off an invite to the LA Live premiere of Robert Rodriguez‘s Machete Kills in order to catch a Beverly Hills screening of the PBS doc Jimi Hendrix: Hear My Train A Comin’…sorry. Who am I kidding, “sorry”? I can’t stand Rodriguez. Then I read Alfonso Duralde’s Wrap review and knew I’d made the right call. “Machete Kills opens with a fake trailer for a not-yet-produced third installment, then spends the next 100-plus minutes making a case for plunging a knife into the franchise’s heart,” his review begins.

“This ‘Mex-ploitation’ action series was hilarious as a trailer in Grindhouse and outrageous enough to float one feature film, but the series has gone dull around the edges. No one has ever accused Rodriguez of being a great artist, but even his talent at making shamelessly bizarre, no-holds-barred genre entertainment seems to have him eluded him here. You wouldn’t think sex, violence and car chases could be this boring, but once Machete Kills starts repeating itself and relying unduly upon celebrity cameos, you can feel the energy drain away. All Machete Kills had to be was fun. But it isn’t.”