Reviews

It is, all in all, a rather weak, flaccid, and uninspired picture.

Spoilers herein. It's difficult to discuss Pulp Fiction's weaknesses without examples.

Let me preface by making clear which points I am not hingeing this apparently uncommon opinion on:

1. I'm not worried about Tarantino's use of pop references; I rather like these--they make directors like T, Kevin Smith, and Ridley Scott stand out versus historical flak and cop dramas.

2. I'm not against the unusual time structure. That said, more on this later.

3. I'm not against any of the characters, actions (violence, sexual practices, etc), or decisions made in the film.

4. I'm not against T's use of racial slurs; Quentin has very well-known theories on the subject, and that's his business.

These are the most common complaints I have heard against Pulp Fiction. However, the reason(s) I think the movie is weak has more to do with content, plot, pacing, continuity, and development.

My first point to consider is that the movie is, as T states in the opening credits, a series of unrelated stories. While each segment has elements that carry over to the next--characters, clothes, props, vehicles--any given segment could have different actors playing different characters and the movie would, in all honesty, not lose much. For example, John Travolta has several utterly unrelated roles, spanning the whole movie, that could have been played by anyone, as each of these roles has no relationship to any other. Just because it is Travolta who tells Jules about Amsterdam, who shoots Marvin, who takes Thurman out to dinner, and who is sent to shoot Willis, doesn't provide an adequate link between these events.

Second, several very long scenes are essentially throwaway, added for the sake of chewing up time in a vaguely interesting way. The aforementioned Uma Thurman sequence is just a way for T to show off his knowledge of drugs and create a little suspense; Thurman's character doesn't even figure into the story/stories as a whole, and the mention of her by Jules earlier and her brief appearance later are clearly T's means of justifying her presence in the film. Also of note is the basement scene, which is so long and so far removed from the semblance of a plot that it is also clearly T showing off his knowledge of bdsm subculture while distracting the audience away from the flimsy profluence of the movie.

Third, while there is nothing wrong with the characters per se, and I will be the first to admit that they are all a fun, likable bunch, a narrative American movie relies at least a little on character development. Aside from Butch, not a single character in Pulp Fiction changes in a meaningful way. "Ah," you all shout, "what about Jules? It seems like he changes a great deal," you continue. Sorry. No. Character development means that a character grows, and learns, and becomes better, or worse, or different, or the same but for somewhat different reasons, ad nauseum. It does not mean that a contrived and silly plot point suddenly opens your eyes to the presence of God in your LA sleazy-gangster lifestyle. Disney tried that in 'The Fox and the Hound' and it didn't work then, either.

Lastly, I come to the infamous narrative structure. In a film class I took once, there was an entire chapter in the textbook devoted to Travolta's miraculous resurrection. "Wow," was the impression the book gave. "Holy moly." When I subsequently saw Pulp Fiction, I went to my film professor and said, "So?" I still fail to see how this was groundbreaking in 1994, as I now fail to see past the purely gimmick nature of it. I don't believe it enhances the film in any way. It's barely interesting or worth keeping track of, like Memento is. "Oh, but it ends where it begins!" you interject. Yes, well so did (not wanting to give the endings away, I will use oblique references) that Kurosawa comedy based on John Ford's early westerns, as did that relentlessly popular early German Expressionist film with a bad rock band named after it, as did that Gilliam flick which you saw last week. They did it, too, and no one cared.

I don't mean that quite so sarcastically, but there you are.

One last point: there is one gimmick in Pulp Fiction, amongst a freight liner-full that don't work, that does work: the bizarre references to religion. The manner of locomotion of Marcellus Wallace's soul is clever and weird enough to drive the relevant scenes, as is Jules' Biblical speech ("For I AM the LORD!"). I like that, a bit. It adds depth, a millimeter or two, to a very shallow movie.

And Pulp Fiction is indeed a shallow movie. One watches it, turns off the DVD player, and walks away, unchanged. There is no legitimate conflict, or plot, or character development, or anything. Sure, it's fine as a pure low-level entertainment flick with a good script, but I could just watch Snatch or Pitch Black, which serve the same purpose and have the same plusses as PF (including atemporal editing) but with some excitement and emotion to boot. Or, alternatively, I could watch Battleship Potemkin or The Bicycle Thief. A bit more sophisticated, those.

On the other hand, if I'm in the mood for a slick LA sleazy-gangster film, a slick LA sleazy-gangster film by Quentin Tarantino, I might add, I'd just pop in Jackie Brown or Reservoir Dogs, both of which are truly excellent in all respects.

First of all, a recommendation: reading spoilers for The Fisher King will degrade the viewing experience, much like Citizen Kane or Fight Club.

The Fisher King is one of the most complex, intricate, intense, and dynamic films in recent memory. It stars Jeff Bridges as a disc jockey and talk show host whose life changes abruptly, forcing him to confront his mistakes and repair the damage to his old life. Along the way is Robin Williams in one of his first (and, one could argue, most effective) tragicomic roles, after Dead Poets' Society and before Good Will Hunting. At this point in his career, his trademark slapstick comedy had not yet given way to his later deadpan, resulting in ludicrous scenes involving aluminum foil armor, fruit pies, and, eventually, full frontal nudity. Together, the mismatched pair alternately face self-immolation, healing, and the pursuit of their respective romantic interests--with excellent supporting performances by Mercedes Ruehl and the always-weird Amanda Plummer.

Terry Gilliam, in his third stint in the director's chair, was faced with a dilemma: his first full-length, Brazil, was too challenging for a mainstream audience, and, despite critical acclaim, bombed. His second, The Adventures of Baron Munchausen, tried too hard to be mainstream (along with a slew of other problems), and bombed. Gilliam worked hard to make a movie which didn't tip one way or the other. To some extent, he succeeded: the comedy in The Fisher King has broad appeal; the love stories are Hollywood-acceptable; there are several Baz Luhrman-like song and dance scenes; and the cinematography is beautiful without the unnecessary frills that plagued Brazil. The movie was a mild success. But the ideas that Gilliam presents the audience about homelessness, mental illness, grief, and redemption can be hard to absorb, preventing The Fisher King from receiving a well-deserved Oscar. Furthermore, like Lynch, Gilliam fills all his movies with long sequences of difficult-to-watch scenes, and The Fisher King is no exception. However, persevering through them all yields a rich and rewarding movie experience that will stay with you for a long time after.

A final word on Michael Jeter: this vastly underused and underrated character actor gives the finest performance of his career in The Fisher King as a cross-dressing cabaret singer. With his goofy handlebar mustache, hilarious singing, and earnest acting, he, like Williams himself did in Mork and Mindy, steals every scene with talent to spare.

All in all, a superb movie. 8.5 / 10