Pulp Fiction (1994)
Directed by: Quentin
Tarantino.
Written by: Quentin
Tarantino and Roger Avery (story).
Starring: John Travolta (Vincent
Vega), Samuel L. Jackson (Jules Winnfield), Uma Thurman (Mia Wallace), Harvey
Keitel (Winston Wolfe), Tim Roth (Ringo/Pumpkin), Amanda Plummer (Yolanda/Honey
Bunny), Maria de Medeiros (Fabienne), Ving Rhames (Marsellus Wallace), Eric
Stoltz (Lance), Rosanna Arquette (Jody), Christopher Walken (Captain Koons), Bruce
Willis (Butch Coolidge), Bronagh Gallagher (Trudi), Phil LaMarr (Marvin), Quentin
Tarantino (Jimmie), Frank Whaley (Brett), Burr Steers (Roger), Angela Jones (Esmeralda
Villalobos).
It’s
impossible to describe just what an impact Pulp Fiction had on movies when it
came out in 1994 – and probably even harder to describe what the film did to me
when I finally saw it in 1995, when it finally came to home video (yes, back in
those days, it was on VHS – and big movies could take months to get there – and
since I was 13 in 1994, there was no way I could it in the theater). Pulp
Fiction was hailed as revolutionary by many at the time – and you certainly
wouldn’t have to make a very long list of the most influential films ever made
before you got to Pulp Fiction (for better or worse). For me, watching it then
(and again and again and again countless times throughout my high school years)
I had never seen anything like it – anything close to it. It is one of the key
films that made me fall in love with movies – and got me to the point I am
today. All of which is a fancy way of saying I may not really be able to see
Pulp Fiction clearly – without some sort of bias or nostalgia. Perhaps the
biggest reason I have hesitated for so long in doing a Tarantino retrospective
is because I feared that the film Pulp Fiction really is, wouldn’t measure up
to the film it is in my head, or that the film that made my 14 year old head
spin all those years ago, wouldn’t do much to my 38 year old head now – after
knowing more clearly Tarantino’s influences, and having sat through so, so, so
many films trying to be a Pulp Fiction clone, by people who are not anywhere
near as talented as Tarantino. I’ve seen Pulp Fiction easily 30 times – and
yet, if I’m being honest, it’s probably been close to a decade since I last sat
down and watched the whole thing. My memories of the film were pure – why would
I want to mess with that?
Pulp
Fiction was, of course, the same film it always was. And like the experience I
had re-watching the Coens Fargo a few years ago for the first time in years (a
film I saw, if anything, more times than Pulp Fiction – probably because it’s
an hour shorter) – I still knew every beat of the movie, every cut, every line
reading, etc. And yet, while I think it’s impossible for me to say I saw a
different film this time, I do think certain elements of the film played
different to me now than ever before. And yes, I still loved every minute of
it.
The opening
scene still has that kind of raw power. Tarantino is, of course, playing with
use a little bit – both Reservoir Dogs and True Romance also opened in diners,
with their main characters talking, but here he’s doing something slightly
different. The scene is similar to those other opening scenes – it’s got the
same patter of the dialogue, the same mixture of humor and something more
dangerous. But there is a highly sexual electricity in the air between Tim Roth
and Amanda Plummer in that scene – something Tarantino hadn’t really done
before – and of course if we think these are going to be the main characters,
we’re wrong. We won’t see them again for well over two hours before we arrive
back here once again, the movie coming full circle.
From that
opening scene, we are thrust into the world of criminals, violence and sex –
and we’ll stay there for the duration of the movie. We flash from that diner to
the blaring soundtrack of Misirlou, to the car alongside a couple of hitman –
Vincent (John Travolta) and Julies (Samuel L. Jackson) – shooting the shit on
the way to a job. The now infamous conversation about burgers in Europe – and
what they are called – is still great writing, even if endless copycats may
have dimmed its originality a little. But the performances are still great –
Jackson, of course, owns the screen in this movie – no matter how great he is
in other movies, he may never top this performance. But I was more impressed
with Travolta’s performance here than any other time I’ve seen the film. I’m
pretty sure he’s stoned in that scene – there is something about his eyes –
that I’m not quite sure how he does it. The scene in the apartment – where
Jackson just completely and totally takes over – is still brilliant.
From
there, we keep moving from one story to the next. As an idiot teenager, I
thought that if there was a weaker segment (relatively speaking) in the movie,
it was the extended date between Vincent and his bosses’ wife, Mia (Uma
Thurman) – but watching it this time, I realize how wrong I was. More than any
time before, the erotic charge, the sexual tension between Travolta and Thurman
hummed at a frequency that was perhaps too high for me to hear back then. There
is a real sense of danger between them, that they will not be able to resist
what they both want, and what they know could both doom them. It is all
masterfully played by Travolta and Thurman – and brilliantly written by
Tarantino, because we are sensing one kind of danger, and then, of course, he plunges
us into another kind of danger with the overdose – and the almost unbearably
intense adrenaline shot sequence.
No, if
there is a weaker segment (relatively speaking) it’s probably the Bruce Willis
one that comes next – where he plays a boxer who is supposed to throw a fight,
and decidedly does not – meaning Marcellus Wallace (Ving Rhames) – wants to
kill him. He knew that, he has a plan to get away – all of which is undone by
his girlfriend forgetting his watch at their apartment – that he has to go back
for (by the way, I never noticed before, but how old is Bruce Willis supposed
to be in this film? If his dad was a POW in the Vietnam War – let’s say
Christopher Walken’s character was released the same time John McCain was, in
1973, and Butch then is what 8? Meaning Willis is supposed to be 29 in the film
– a full decade younger than he was at the time). Anyway, the segment is still
great – it’s one of Willis’ best performance (a few years before The Sixth
Sense would seemingly make him believe he should walk through every film nearly
comatose), and the film has a couple of true shocks and twists in it. Part of
me cannot help but wonder though if that scene’s ending borders on, if not
quite crossing the line, into homophobia – or at least indulging in some fairly
harmful stereotypes. It’s worth considering, especially in film (his third
written in the row) that throws the “n-word” around with reckless abandon –
mostly by white characters that the films don’t code as racist.
The final
stretch – returning to Vincent and Jules in that apartment, and then proceeding
from there back to the diner that opened the film – with a stop at a house to
clean up a car that has been splattered with someone’s brains – is perhaps the
most fascinating of the film. It is a study in tonal shifts, as much of it is
hilarious, but it’s also horrifying in other respects, and brings us back to
the diner for what qualifies for a moral argument in this film – which is not
really interested in morals. It’s also somewhat surprising, and perhaps even
sad, since Travolta is back just a few scenes after we see what his ultimate
fate is.
Even
after 25 years, Pulp Fiction has the power to shock and entertain. It is more
ambitious than anything Tarantino had written before – with it’s large,
sprawling cast of characters, multiple timelines than divide and converge
throughout the film. While perhaps the most famous bits of dialogue in the film
have perhaps been repeated too often – where their impact is at least a little
bit blunted, but not much. The performances are across the board great. And
each segment has an energy of its own, while still fitting into the larger
film.
Am I
biased? Perhaps. Am I seeing the film clearly for what it is, or the film that
I want it to be from my memory? I honestly don’t know. The list of films that
were more important to me when I first fell in love with movies is probably
non-existent. And yet, watching it again, the film still has that strange magic
that time and hundreds of imitators cannot, and has not dulled. I do wonder
what younger people – people raised on films that came in Pulp Fiction’s wake,
make of the film. They clearly may not see it as revolutionary as it was at the
time – but I think Pulp Fiction works beyond that – beyond that influence. It
is perhaps the seminal film of the 1990s. And it deserves to be.
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