Director: Quentin Tarantino
Starring: John Travolta, Samuel L Jackson, Bruce Willis, Ving Rhames, Uma Thurman, Tim Roth, Amanda Plummer, Eric Stoltz, Rosanna Arquette, Harvey Keitel, Christopher Walken
Another great review by Adam Truscott.
The One Where I Love Pulp Fiction, And You Should Too
Pulp Fiction and I go way back.
Up until Heat, and then Fight Club, it was my favourite film.
Now? Now the three of them jostle in my head, all day long for that top spot.
Pulp will always be special though.
It sign posted the time I branched out and properly saw something behind my Dads back. And there was no turning back from that. Scorsese was always in my heart, but Tarantino was doing the sort of films I’d want to be making myself… Scorsese was doing Kundun.
I’d seen others, of course. Betraying my Fathers trust, and seeing him crushed as I chose Film. This was a strict “no fly zone”. The papers stirring up another QT horror story, of graphic murders and profanity. The enfant terrible, adding casual racism, and buggery to his list of crimes. Drug use made to look cool, even to yours truly. One of the most morale people you’ll ever meet. If I could say, “Don’t be such a square”, then draw a square out of lights, in mid air… well… I’ll have what she’s having. (Apart from the adrenaline shot).
Most of what I had heard was correct, to be fair.
Travolta does end up covered in brain matter. But what words could never describe is how funny that is.
And for me, that’s what people often miss with Pulp Fiction – that it is a comedy at heart.
The whole film is one long, winding road of one-liners. Littered in between the naughty words, and drug use. And those one-liners are part of every day culture now.
I recently did a vote on my Blog, for whether you were an Elvis man, or a Beatles man (or woman). Vincent Vega would be proud.
When I was at Wembley last week, paying five bucks for a beer, I looked at JMcG and said: “I don’t know if it’s worth five dollars, but it’s pretty fucking good.”
I realise writing that out, that both examples are of me quoting Pulp Fiction.
But it has crept into our world.
Whether it’s Banksy doing Pulp Fictions most famous scene with bananas. Or, or, or….
Right. I’ve just realised. I see the world in some sort of Pulp Fiction bubble.
The film has changed the way I look at things.
If I go into a shop, any kind, I think of what weapons I would choose. You know, in case I get sent down there with the Gimp.
When I cross the road and see a mortal enemy, (I have a lot), I look at their car, and in my best Marcellus Wallace voice say… “Mother Fucka’”, hoping he won’t mow me down. Ruining the Kahuna burger I just bought.
When I go over a bump in the road, I hope my gun doesn’t go off in someone’s face.
Pulp Fiction has done this to me.
I offer my wife foot massages. Then hope no one comes for me, with a blowtorch, and a set of pliers.
Did I ever try to be the guy that’s out of shot, while a whole conversation is going on… only to appear at the last minute?
Did I ever wish there was a camera in the boot of my car, every time I open it.
Did I ever wish I would have the soul of Mr Wallace in my brief case when I opened it at work? (Or even just a set of light bulbs, burning bright).
Pulp Fiction is a masterpiece.
The soundtrack. The comeback of John Travolta. The best ever Samuel L. Jackson performance. (And Oscar resignation face). The best use of a story going full circle… and you trying to plot it out in your head… realising that the end is the beginning is the end.
Tarantino’s dialogue here is immense. Every word just jumps off the screen.
Royales with Cheese? Check. Jack Rabbit Slims dance competitions, and five-dollar shakes? Check. Eric Stolz in his best ever role. (OK, OK. Apart from Back To The Future).
It. Has. It. All.
The question is… when did you last listen to Christopher Walken talking about hiding a watch up his ass?
