If there was one film that best defines the enigmatic persona of Quentin Tarantino, assuming for a moment that such a feat is even possible, Pulp Fiction would top the charts almost unanimously. Its game-changer template has been abused by countless imposters ever since, but none could achieve the crescendo that our anti-hero protagonist hailing from Knoxville in the US state of Tennessee stuck with optimal notes and avantgarde strings, a case study in screenplay writing.
The name of the film, an ode to a bygone era of cheap wood pulp paperbacks packed with titillating literature and incendiary covers, is closest to the Tarantino school of thought although the maverick carves out much more through his craft than mere titillation. Talking of the film, it makes brilliant use of colloquial language, seemingly inconsequential everyday conversations, and loosely strewn back drops and back stories that are brought to life by superb actors with style and substance in good measure. Most characters are seeped in bloody crime of heinous extremes and yet they exude enough warmth to make them endearing – trust Tarantino alone to make that happen!
The seemingly unrelated but intricately woven episodes feature an ensemble as disparate as it can get: Vincent Vega (John Travolta) and Jules Winnfield (Samuel Jackson) - two professional hitmen of psyches that are poles apart; Marsellus Wallace (Ving Rhames) - a tyrannical gang lord who is also a man of honour; Mia Wallace (Uma Thurman) a 'more of a mistress, less of a wife' character with an unimaginable propensity for adventure seeking; Butch Coolidge (Bruce Willis) a rebellious boxer past his prime who writes his own script even after signing on the dotted line as a pawn to the powers-that-be; The Wolf (Harvey Keitel) a cool, calm and collected problem solver of the unlawful universe, and a queer mugger couple ((Tim Roth and Amanda Plummer) - with funny names and funnier notions of how to skyrocket from sustenance to affluence. All of them are unshakable and vulnerable in their own ways (driven by ‘Karma’ as the Yankees love to call it without understanding the larger significance, but then, this is the closest they can get to making sense of Eastern spiritualism)
Whether Vincent’s frequent toilet ruminations and clownish demeanour, Jules’ metaphysical take on material aspects of criminal life, Mr Wolf’s clockwork precision and fool proof methods, the non-nonsense practicality of Marselleus, Bruce’s humaneness within an inhuman space and his quest to defy the ‘Palooka’ identity that the world has thrust on him, the cranky couple’s honeyed exchanges, who are downright wicked in thought and action but Pumpkin and Honey Bunny to each other at all times, and even Jules’ briefcase with its contents left to audience interpretation…
…every character has a preceding or succeeding story to it, and every situation, dialogue and motif is never devoid of purpose. The philosophical and biblical monologues of Karmic undercurrents are laced with matter-of-fact appeal and wry wit, so there’s never a dull moment of preachy discourses. POVs, moments of truth, and matters of introspection thrive in the midst of hardboiled action, but the grotesque is shrewdly bypassed through long shots and suggestive frames. For the viewer, the violence and bloodshed are more imagined in the mind’s eye than what the screen shows. The explicit is minimal, the implicit is monumental.
No surprise that pivotal scenes have been inspired by other films (‘Great artists steal, they don't do homages’ is Tarantino’s motto) but given the finesse of his finished product, we have no reason to complain.
At the end of the film, you recall the Biblical passages as much as you remember the Vincent and Mia dance floor act inspired by Disney’s ‘Aristocats’, or the 'le royale with cheese' banter between Vincent and Jules, or the ‘Gold Watch’ flashback scene of Butch and Captain Koons (Christopher Walken makes it more believable than what Tarantino’s script could manage)
That’s what a Tarantino film does – it makes both principal and support characters immortal – whether Mr. White and Nice Guy Eddie from Reservoir Dogs, Major Warren from Hateful Eight, Zoe Belle from Death Proof, Dr. King Schultz from Django Unchained, Louis Gara and Max Cherry from Jackie Brown, or Colonel Hans Landa from Inglourious Basterds.
Italian roots from his aspiring actor father and Cherokee and Irish descents from his mother must have helped evolve Quentin's unique character, unparalleled among filmmakers. Partly named after Burt Reynolds’s half-breed blacksmith character in the epic Gunsmoke TV series Quint Asper (Reynold’s son is named Quinton), Tarantino’s film learning was not shaped by film schools but the rich and varied experience gathered from unlikely stints - whether as a purser at an adult movie theatre called Pussycat, staff recruiter for the aerospace sector, or video archives guy of a California store.
Even in his first Hollywood gig, he was only a production assistant for a fitness video called Maximum Potential. Well, all of that did help tap the maximum potential of a maverick who calls his head a sponge, to absorb quirky stories, and his pen an antenna, to make them screenplay-worthy.
Tarantino has reportedly abandoned his proposed tenth and final offering ‘The Movie Critic’ for reasons best known to him, but he himself being a provocative and indulgent film subject by choice (who is unabashedly in love with his own cinema speculations), we are sure of an announcement in good time. For all we know, he must be desperate to end his career on a high note of cinematic excellence, maybe with another Jackie Brown or Inglorious Basterds, if not Pulp fiction!
