And now we arrive at the film that really put Tarantino on the map. The one that netted him his first Academy Award. The one that shot past the sophomore slump and onto pop cultural super-stardom.
Let's talk about Pulp Fiction (1994).
I. What Is It?
This is a series of intertwined stories: two philosophical hitmen, a hardluck boxer, the gangster's moll looking for a good time, and many others. The stories are told out of order, and weave in and out of each other over the course of the film's run. This is Quentin Tarantino's ode to hard boiled genre pulp.II. Shuffled Anthology
I really dig the way Tarantino shifts and plays with accepted film structure. Not only is he telling multiple stories, he is telling them out of order. But the order they are shown in is no act of randomness.
Tarantino's structure allows him to reinforce the themes he's playing with, notably the philosophical awakening of Jules (Samuel L. Jackson, owning every second of screen time). Jules and Vincent (a wonderfully against-type [for the time] John Travolta) survive a routine fetch-quest. Jules thinks it's a miracle. Vincent is not convinced. Jules walks away from the life, while Vincent stays in. He stays in and experiences more brushes with catastrophe and ultimately finds his end at the barrel of a gun, slumped over in a bathtub. It is interesting that the gunman that nearly kills both men exits a bathroom, and Vincent misses key tragic turns of events because he always goes to the bathroom: he misses the initial robbery in the diner while on the pot; he misses Mia's overdose because he goes to take a piss, and talk himself into walking away from what feels is a more-than-normal encounter with a beautiful (and dangerous) woman; he misses Butch enter the apartment and procure a left-out gun, because he is taking a shit, reading the same book he's been seen with multiple times. Jules heeds the warning of an "act of god." Vincent sneers, and walks headlong into a series of terrible events. By giving us Jules' wander-the-earth monologue at the end of the movie, we get an interesting context for the previous events of the film. Vincent's untimely death isn't tragic as much as it is due to his own stubbornness: he could have gotten out, too, but he stayed in and died what must be only a day or two later.
We also get an exploration of a profoundly lonely woman. Uma Thurman's Mia Wallace is a woman stranded by circumstance: her gangster husband is constantly away, and has to hire his goons to take her out on dates to keep her busy. For their part, she and Vincent have a budding chemistry on their date to Jack Rabbit Slim's, a kaleidoscopic diner of nostalgia fantasia (and one of Tarantino's most compelling alt-world constructions). She chides Vincent for assuming that her husband grievously wounded another man because of some sort of sexual tryst. Her life is a blur of her husband's lackeys, forced dates and drugs. Thurman plays Mia to the hilt: she walks a delicate balance between femme fatale and injured maiden in a tower. She takes joy where she can get it: a five dollar milkshake, a twist contest, a snort of blow. She has power, but it is empty power. It't the kind of power that makes people afraid to get close to her. It makes her a tragic character.
And then there's the most noir story of the bunch: Butch's last fight and attempted flight. Butch is a boxer that Marsellus Wallace, the LA kingpin, has set up to lose a fixed fight. But Butch has other plans. He wins the fight, accidentally killing his opponent, and makes off with the promise of a stack of cash got from betting on himself. But he has to go back to his apartment to retrieve his father's forgotten heirloom wrist watch. Butch's story is the most stylized, with harsh neon lights and hard boiled dialogue.
These stories all overlap each other, with shared characters popping up all over the place. Tarantino could have told this thing in a three act structure. He could have told it in chronological order. But by breaking it up and shuffling its pieces around, he allows the audience to live with certain themes and ideas before he pays them off later after returning to key character's perspectives.
- This is Tarantino solidifying his footing as an artist. He has a bigger budget and more cachet than ever. And this film nabs him even more for the future.Tarantino's structure allows him to reinforce the themes he's playing with, notably the philosophical awakening of Jules (Samuel L. Jackson, owning every second of screen time). Jules and Vincent (a wonderfully against-type [for the time] John Travolta) survive a routine fetch-quest. Jules thinks it's a miracle. Vincent is not convinced. Jules walks away from the life, while Vincent stays in. He stays in and experiences more brushes with catastrophe and ultimately finds his end at the barrel of a gun, slumped over in a bathtub. It is interesting that the gunman that nearly kills both men exits a bathroom, and Vincent misses key tragic turns of events because he always goes to the bathroom: he misses the initial robbery in the diner while on the pot; he misses Mia's overdose because he goes to take a piss, and talk himself into walking away from what feels is a more-than-normal encounter with a beautiful (and dangerous) woman; he misses Butch enter the apartment and procure a left-out gun, because he is taking a shit, reading the same book he's been seen with multiple times. Jules heeds the warning of an "act of god." Vincent sneers, and walks headlong into a series of terrible events. By giving us Jules' wander-the-earth monologue at the end of the movie, we get an interesting context for the previous events of the film. Vincent's untimely death isn't tragic as much as it is due to his own stubbornness: he could have gotten out, too, but he stayed in and died what must be only a day or two later.
We also get an exploration of a profoundly lonely woman. Uma Thurman's Mia Wallace is a woman stranded by circumstance: her gangster husband is constantly away, and has to hire his goons to take her out on dates to keep her busy. For their part, she and Vincent have a budding chemistry on their date to Jack Rabbit Slim's, a kaleidoscopic diner of nostalgia fantasia (and one of Tarantino's most compelling alt-world constructions). She chides Vincent for assuming that her husband grievously wounded another man because of some sort of sexual tryst. Her life is a blur of her husband's lackeys, forced dates and drugs. Thurman plays Mia to the hilt: she walks a delicate balance between femme fatale and injured maiden in a tower. She takes joy where she can get it: a five dollar milkshake, a twist contest, a snort of blow. She has power, but it is empty power. It't the kind of power that makes people afraid to get close to her. It makes her a tragic character.
And then there's the most noir story of the bunch: Butch's last fight and attempted flight. Butch is a boxer that Marsellus Wallace, the LA kingpin, has set up to lose a fixed fight. But Butch has other plans. He wins the fight, accidentally killing his opponent, and makes off with the promise of a stack of cash got from betting on himself. But he has to go back to his apartment to retrieve his father's forgotten heirloom wrist watch. Butch's story is the most stylized, with harsh neon lights and hard boiled dialogue.
These stories all overlap each other, with shared characters popping up all over the place. Tarantino could have told this thing in a three act structure. He could have told it in chronological order. But by breaking it up and shuffling its pieces around, he allows the audience to live with certain themes and ideas before he pays them off later after returning to key character's perspectives.
III. Littered With Little Things
What is under Marsellus Wallace's bandaid on the back of his neck? What's in that briefcase, that casts the golden light? What really happened to Tony Rocky Horror? Where does Jules go? Tarantino throws in little mysteries and easter eggs that have been debated and analyzed by film buffs since the film's release 25 years ago.
He introduces these elements, these details, and then refuses to provide answers. This lends the film an interpretability that is fun to play with after the credits roll. Is this movie entertaining? Yes. Does it have thought-provoking elements that tease possible thematic relevance? Yes. The fun is that it works as a piece of pop-corn entertainment, and also as a piece of art that demands to be discussed. Not many films can manage that.
He introduces these elements, these details, and then refuses to provide answers. This lends the film an interpretability that is fun to play with after the credits roll. Is this movie entertaining? Yes. Does it have thought-provoking elements that tease possible thematic relevance? Yes. The fun is that it works as a piece of pop-corn entertainment, and also as a piece of art that demands to be discussed. Not many films can manage that.
III. Music As Character
The soundtrack is almost as much of a character as any of Tarantino's signature verbose gangsters. Each tune slides into the scene with confidence and helps the film flow into a cohesive piece. This is sun-drenched surf rock; this is Al Green's pleading soul; this is Kool and the Gang's thumping funk. Tarantino showed a flair for the musical in his debut, and solidifies it here with his sophomore effort. You get the sense that the needle drops here were chosen with loving care, and that just isn't the case in many films.
IV. Defining Style
With an increased budget, we begin to see Tarantino flex his stylistic muscles. Jack Rabbit Slim's is a technicolor wonderland (it cost $150,000 dollars to make); the camera captures stunningly composed images; the soundtrack is stuffed to the gills with needle drops; the cast is littered with A-listers. With his second feature, Tarantino's signature style is hardening into shape. It would reach maturation in his Kill Bill duology, but it is remarkably assured and specific here.
His dialogue becomes the star of the show. Even when his characters are seemingly talking about nothing, the scenes pop off the screen and illuminate the speakers in vivid detail. It's no wonder actors seemed to be lining up around the block for the opportunity to speak his words on camera: his scripts had their own vernacular, their own sense of cool and style, that no one else in Hollywood (then or since) has ever been able to successfully imitate.
His dialogue becomes the star of the show. Even when his characters are seemingly talking about nothing, the scenes pop off the screen and illuminate the speakers in vivid detail. It's no wonder actors seemed to be lining up around the block for the opportunity to speak his words on camera: his scripts had their own vernacular, their own sense of cool and style, that no one else in Hollywood (then or since) has ever been able to successfully imitate.
V. About the Slurs
I talked about this in the Reservoir Dogs review. And it earns a place, here, too. Namely in the character of Jimmy, played by Tarantino himself, no less. Jules and Vincent take a dead body to Jimmy's house to lay low while they figure out what to do with it. Jimmy is, expectedly, not thrilled. He asks Jules, "Is there a sign outside of my house that says 'Dead N****r storage?'" He goes on to use the N-word quite a few more times. To Jules' face. It's a very strange scene. Not only is Tarantino playing Jimmy, which acts as a strange advocacy of the slur, but it is later revealed that Jimmy's wife is black. Why on earth would a black woman marry a man who uses that word so casually? Why on earth wouldn't Jules punch him right in the face, or even protest at the use of the word? I explained in the previous review that Tarantino's characters often use racial slurs, and that can be explained by their criminality and inherent "vileness." But Jimmy is just a dude. A dude that the director decided to play himself. And it tastes bad, these years later.
I won't attempt to defend Jimmy. It is a smear on an otherwise spectacular film.
I won't attempt to defend Jimmy. It is a smear on an otherwise spectacular film.
Why You Should See It
- Almost everybody knows about this film. Almost everyone can quote it, even if they aren't aware that they are doing so. This movie has wormed its way into the zeitgeist of its time. Hell, it's wormed its way into modern cinema, and asserted itself into modern ideas of coolness. This film's fingerprints are all over movies for the next twenty years.
Why You Shouldn't See It
- The N-word. A lot.
In Conclusion
Miscellany
- If you've ever read the bible, you'd know that Jules' version of Ezekiel 25:17 is... a bit different as quoted by Tarantino. Yeah, the man rewrote the bible. It is, however, badass.- The movie's budget was $8 million dollars. Five million of which went to actors' salaries. It grossed $200 million at the box office. Tarantino wrote himself a blank check to get really weird. And he would.
- Uma Thurman was nervous about her dance scene with Travolta. He told her to "shut up and twist." The scene is iconic in pop culture, now.
- Vincent laments that his nice car has been keyed by some hoodlum. Tarantino has confirmed, in interviews, that Butch was responsible for the keying.
- The F word is used 265 times.
- The film was preserved in the National Film Registry in 2013.
- That iconic dance that Vincent and Mia perform in Jack Rabbit Slim's is lifted directly from Federico Fellini's 8 1/2.
- The film was nominated for seven Academy Awards, and won for Best Original Screenplay.
- The original screenplay was 159 pages long.
- Vincent is reading the book, Modesty Blaise, a book about a female spy. It is considered in the pulp fiction genre.
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