Flick of The Day: Pulp Fiction

I realised the other day that it is now 17 years since Quentin Tarantino unleashed Pulp Fiction on the world and felt compelled to view it again, to see if it was still as ground breaking, if the dialogue still sparkled with the same lustre, if it was still as effortlessly otherworldly cool as it seemed upon its first release.

Pulp Fiction (Two-Disc Collector's Edition)

This is the film that spawned so many Tarantino imitators, exhibiting as it does all of his traits: literate snappy dialogue, pop culture references galore, an ironic sense of humour, non linear storytelling and violence. The story such as it is, takes place over a number of days in the Los Angeles criminal underworld. There are seven narrative sequences and we view them in a non linear order. This is played out by an ensemble cast to die for, each perfectly suited to their roles. John Travolta and Samuel L. Jackson are a pair of heavies in classic black suits. Jackson quoting scripture and Travolta with a chip on his shoulder and a penchant for Cheeseburgers. Uma Thurman is the drug addled gangster's moll. Harvey Keitel is the fixer known as The Wolf. Bruce Willis is the over the hill pugilist. Ving Rhames is the Kingpin. Christoper Walken appears in a blink and you'll miss it flashback scene which at first glance appears to be there merely to show off but then later it slots neatly into the overarching narrative in a beautiful symmetry. This is just a small fraction of an extensive cast.

The dialogue is justly lauded, with the screenplay which Tarantino co wrote with Roger Avary winning the Oscar in 1994. There are numerous quotable lines, the "Royale with cheese" being the most infamous. My personal favourite is the interplay between John Travolta and Samuel Jackson.

"Jules: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa... stop right there. Eatin' a bitch out, and givin' a bitch a foot massage ain't even the same fuckin' thing.
Vincent: It's not. It's the same ballpark.
Jules: Ain't no fuckin' ballpark neither. Now look, maybe your method of massage differs from mine, but, you know, touchin' his wife's feet, and stickin' your tongue in her Holiest of Holies, ain't the same fuckin' ballpark, it ain't the same league, it ain't even the same fuckin' sport. Look, foot massages don't mean shit."

A fine script combined with some career best acting performances and a soundtrack perfectly suited to the ambience of the film equals a minor classic and perhaps the most influential film of the '90s. It revitalised Travolta's flagging career, gave Bruce Willis some much needed acting kudos and set Tarantino on the inexorable rise to stardom. 

Watching it again, 17 years on, I was struck by the fact that this still marks the high point of his career as a director. He has never eclipsed it. Jackie Brown was fine, although retreading similar ground to Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction. Kill Bill had its moments but was uneven and the story was spread too thin for two films.The less said about Death Proof the better and while the opening half an hour of Inglourious Basterds was excellent, it went steeply down hill from there. Not a whole lot to show for one of the most prodigious talents to emerge from the Indie scene of the early '90s. That said, this is an enviable high point.