‘From Dusk Till Dawn’: The First 9 Minutes are a Recipe for Tension

January 29, 2021

Vampire flicks come in many flavors. This horror subgenre has been explored so thoroughly in the 99 years since Nosferatu frightened audiences in 1922. Whether these films lean on classic monster rules for their stories, or their filmmakers try modern approaches to subvert expectation, there always seems to be one common denominator: the blood.

Twenty-five years ago, a film was released that went an extra step. As the movie opens, it doesn’t even look like a vampire movie. These creatures show up in the story eventually, bringing all their fun with them. But they come later, the blood arrives early. This opening scene of From Dusk Till Dawn is a brilliant set-up of tone and dynamic. And it is better than it needs to be.

It is captivating but loose. Serious yet playful. Before the opening credits even roll on the screen, the manic ride has already unfolded. And it does it without any vampires.

From Dusk Till Dawn was directed by Robert Rodriguez, written by Quentin Tarantino, and released in 1996. It has since become a cult classic, spawning two sequels, a television series and a video game. It is safe to say that most viewers remember this film for a handful of particular reasons. It boasts zany vampire fights, signature Tarantino dialogue, and Salma Hayek seducing the camera.

However, I remember it mostly for its brilliant nine-minute opening. This exquisite collaboration of writing and directing is a textbook lesson in tension.

The setting: An El Paso gas station. The players: One Texas Ranger, one clerk, two criminals and three hostages.

A Texas Ranger played by Earl McGraw (Michael Parks), a regular patron to this establishment, Benny’s World of Liquor, shoots the breeze with Pete the clerk (John Hawkes). We get exposition sewn in with subtle Texan charm. Then the light atmosphere gets a little dim. McGraw briefs Pete about two wanted men who are on the run, who are dangerous, who need to be caught. The Gecko brothers.

Next, McGraw retires to the men’s room. The film’s tone shifts again. Two criminals spring from the shadows like an anti Batman and Robin, wielding pistols. They need to escape, but they don’t need witnesses.

“Everyone be cool, you be cool,” says the tall, dark and handsome criminal to Pete. His handgun, primed and ready, aimed at Pete’s chest. We understand this whole time that Pete was putting on an act for McGraw. His sweating and twitching are products of his lack of control and his willingness to not die. At least not for a liquor store.

This handsome criminal is Seth Gecko (George Clooney). He and his brother, Richie (played with creepy excellence by Tarantino himself), are on the run to Mexico. They have two hostages in the store with them — and a third in their trunk. Seth is in control. Seth calls the shots. Richie follows. And if Pete knows what’s best for him, he’ll play ball too. This power dynamic is analogous to the rest of the film. While both are criminals, Seth is a confident opportunist. We strangely want to root for Seth.

Richie is an unsettling monster with eyeglasses. I’m as much inclined to cheer for Richie as I am to be left alone in a room with him. But Richie is weaker than Seth and everyone knows it. Seth’s cool, albeit morally compromised, leadership carries throughout the film. (He and one other character survive to the end of the movie. Richie isn’t that other.)

Unfortunately, after McGraw emerges from the restroom, blood is soon shed. A misunderstanding of vast proportions evolves into a violent skirmish. McGraw is executed. Pete defensively shoots Richie through the hand, the two hostages escape, and Seth lights the gas station, and Pete, on fire.

The two brothers leisurely stroll outside to their vehicle, bickering in an amusing fashion about their tactics as Benny’s World of Liquor explodes behind them. They drive off.

Cue the opening credits.

In all fairness, it may be more fun for some viewers to relish in the second half of From Dusk Till Dawn. That’s where the vampires are. After all, the Mexican bar “The Titty Twister” that the Gecko brothers wind up at is ostensibly Hell’s circus. The vampire kills are outrageous and kinetic; many of the characters we meet there are entertaining and colorful.

But the first half for me is certainly more interesting. A virgin viewer going blind into From Dusk Till Dawn will believe it’s an engaging crime story only. Even after all my rewatches, I still find myself invested in the characters of Seth, Richie, and the Fuller family (the later crop of hostages post Benny’s World of Liquor) as they make their way from Texas and into Mexico.

I get so attached to these people because there is so much time spent with them. Their identities develop and their characters breathe. This makes the back half of the film more than a paint-by-number monster movie body count flick.

But it all starts with this opening scene. I’ve looked at From Dusk Till Dawn many times now. Its first nine minutes still grips me with every viewing. It is a terrifying calculus of pacing and editing, of body language and dialogue beats.

It is the way McGraw inserts pauses into his sentences, like he is a man strung out. It is the subtle power play Seth uses with his eyes, keeping Pete in his place. It is the way Seth’s strategizing gaze washes over his face as Richie whispers counsel into his ear. And poor Pete, played effectively by John Hawkes, can play anxious and frightfully obedient all while sitting behind a counter.

Many vampire films are remembered for their features that tether them exclusively to horror. Fangs, sex, blood. There is nothing wrong with that. But a film that can offer more than the usual fare, serving up a clinic on compelling storytelling in under ten minutes, is always worth the extra step.