What does Quentin Tarantino truly love? Bare feet, sure, but let’s not get into that. His other big obsession is 1970s grindhouse cinema, that vast reservoir of zero-budget C-movies that all seem to promise violence, gore or some sort of corrupting wickedness. The best of these slapdash quickies thrum with a disreputable energy. Most are charmless and unwatchable. The trailers – lurid, voiceover-heavy and mercifully short – are usually the best part.