Ok, so this is the first in a long stream of films that mean a great deal to me. I shan't rate these films, partly because I'm not really reviewing them more analysing them (well, at least attempting to) and partly because they'd all just get five jars so there's little point! Kicking things off is the film that started it all for me.... It's got a lot to answer for.
This website would not exist if it were not for this film. I would not be the person I am today if I hadn’t seen it. It is because of Pulp Fiction that I am a film lover and thus it is, and always will be, a personal favourite of mine. I first saw it at the age of thirteen. The memory of the night in question is still extremely vivid to me. I sat in a communal lounge with a friend of mine on a brass band residential weekend (a very long, sad story) watching a documentary entitled I Love 1996. At one point in the documentary, the success of this film inevitably came up and thus my friend and I sat staring at various clips, our mouths open, mesmerised by what we were seeing. We saw gimp scenes. We saw hitmen talking about McDonalds. We saw cinematic gold. The film was then shown after that documentary, and that same expression remained on our faces throughout. At that time, I had never seen a film as good, as profound and as affecting as Pulp Fiction. It made me want to watch more films. It made me want to repeat that experience. I remember thinking to myself: if cinema is capable of that, then I need to see more. To this day, Tarantino’s masterpiece is the benchmark that I subconsciously judge every film I see.
Believe me, it is not simply nostalgia that keeps this film in such high regard. The brilliance of the film is present in every single frame of its masterfully constructed hole. The film tells three short stories revolving around a criminal network. In one, Jules (Samuel L. Jackson) and Vincent (John Travolta) are two hitmen partners who travel to and from their latest target, encountering problems that could get them in hot water with the police. In another, Vincent must take his boss Marcellus' (Ving Rhames) wife Mia (Uma Thurman) out for a meal in order that she not get lonely and thus must fight with temptations posed by the sexy noir siren. In the final, Butch (Bruce Willis) is paid by Marcellus to throw his final boxing match, only to take the money and attempt to flee the retribution of the mafia and flee to South America with fiancée Fabienne (Maria de Mederios). The genius of each story, and thus the genius of the film, its ability to build a whole out of a backbone of the almost-clichéd. It's iconography is incredibly familiar and its characters almost stock, yet Tarantino manages, through his script and direction, to dress everything up with wonderfully deconstructive postmodernism. Each story’s heart is steeped in film noir history; the territory of hitmen, seductive women, and games of cat and mouse. It harks back to the traditional 40’s detective stories of The Maltese Falcon and The Big Heat. However, Tarantino takes this setting, shakes it about, mixes it with milk and ice cream, and serves it up in one satisfying five-dollar milkshake.
The temporal structure of the film is one such example of this. Tarantino isn’t afraid at any moment to fast-forward through long periods of plot before hitting the pause button on a seemingly insignificant piece of conversation. Jules and Vincent’s run from the police is hurried and pacey, whilst the former’s date with Mia is slow, unhurried and laps the audiences pleasures. The power of cinema is fully exploited in these techniques, and establishes a very direct relationship with the audience. As the characters struggle against time, so do we. As Jules dates Mia, so do we. We meet her at her apartment, and our attraction is established by the stunning use of Dusty Springfield’s Son of a Preacher Man, perhaps the greatest use of a pop song in the history of film. Wee have a burger at 'Jack Rabbit Slim’s', we take her home, and we, thus, are tempted to spend the night. This emphasis on character is replicate of classical Hollywood, but the techniques used are almost reminiscent of French new wave cinema. Tarantino’s style of film making is like Jean-Luc Goddard with a heart or The Wizard of Oz directed by Ken Loach. He achieves what very little have, including many of the masters. Pulp Fiction is a film with heart and innovation. It is a stylistic tour-de-force that never forgets its audience.
Much attention has been made to the way each stories inter-lap with each other so that we have little sense of chronology. By doing this, the film keeps a strange and startling sense of momentum and story telling, making moments that could be played for a direct narrative climax that much more profound. Protagonists die half way through the film, only for them to remain alive in the final scenes, making their fates worthy of classical tragedy. Scenes repeat themselves from different angles, making them seem like ghostly echoes of previous events and once again locking the narrative between the stories into an inevitable chain of events.
But what is the effect of all this? Is it simply experimentation for the sake of it? This is a criticism often levelled at the film. It's stylistic achievements are almost beyond question. Its characters inarguably memorable and its dialogue absolutely superb, but what is the point? Critics of the film often accuse it of self-absorption, that Quentin Tarantino has made a film haphazardly, with every scene looking nice but contributing to very little. As the film is hardly narrative driven, it is easy to see why such a viewpoint exists. However, for me at least, it is also easy to see why such a view is ultimately unfair. Pulp Fiction is a film about redemption. It is about sin, being a sinner and the consequences of sinning. In one story, Jules believes he witnesses divine intervention and thus attempts to redeem himself. In another, Vincent is tempted into adultery, but by trying to avoid this commits other actions that bring further harm which he must atone for or face judgement. In another, Butch attempts to flee his past indiscretions, only for judgement to come falling down on him and thus he is freed. It is this thematic continuity that lies at the true heart of the film. At its core, Pulp Fiction is a deeply profound experience, a deeply personally made film and an absolute triumph. I cannot recommend it heartedly enough and I hope more people will see it and thus, consequently, there will be more film lovers in this world.
Much attention has been made to the way each stories inter-lap with each other so that we have little sense of chronology. By doing this, the film keeps a strange and startling sense of momentum and story telling, making moments that could be played for a direct narrative climax that much more profound. Protagonists die half way through the film, only for them to remain alive in the final scenes, making their fates worthy of classical tragedy. Scenes repeat themselves from different angles, making them seem like ghostly echoes of previous events and once again locking the narrative between the stories into an inevitable chain of events.
But what is the effect of all this? Is it simply experimentation for the sake of it? This is a criticism often levelled at the film. It's stylistic achievements are almost beyond question. Its characters inarguably memorable and its dialogue absolutely superb, but what is the point? Critics of the film often accuse it of self-absorption, that Quentin Tarantino has made a film haphazardly, with every scene looking nice but contributing to very little. As the film is hardly narrative driven, it is easy to see why such a viewpoint exists. However, for me at least, it is also easy to see why such a view is ultimately unfair. Pulp Fiction is a film about redemption. It is about sin, being a sinner and the consequences of sinning. In one story, Jules believes he witnesses divine intervention and thus attempts to redeem himself. In another, Vincent is tempted into adultery, but by trying to avoid this commits other actions that bring further harm which he must atone for or face judgement. In another, Butch attempts to flee his past indiscretions, only for judgement to come falling down on him and thus he is freed. It is this thematic continuity that lies at the true heart of the film. At its core, Pulp Fiction is a deeply profound experience, a deeply personally made film and an absolute triumph. I cannot recommend it heartedly enough and I hope more people will see it and thus, consequently, there will be more film lovers in this world.
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