Review by Glenn Kenny

                                 Quentin Tarantino's spectacular PULP FICTION (1994, Miramax, R, priced for rental) is
                                 something like the Jurassic Park of independent films: a titanically engrossing and profitable
                                 piece of movie making that excited so much  commentary--in print, on TV, and all over
                                 cyberspace--that its video release doesn't  leave a whole lot of uncharted terrain for a
                                 video critic to cover. Granted, I could buck fashion and take the heretical route--unlike a
                                 lot of critics, I think the movie has its flaws, both minor (when Uma Thurman instructs John
                                 Travolta to not be a square, she traces a  rectangle in the air) and not so minor (Maria de
                                 Medeiros, as an annoyingly passive-aggressive girlfriend). But the fact is, I'll probably end up
                                 owning a copy--of the letterboxed version. The  movie is being released in a pan-and-scan
                                 transfer, which fills your TV screen while disrupting key scenes, as well as in a
                                 letterboxed edition that remains true to Tarantino's original wide-screen compositions.
                                 On the non-letterboxed tape, some of the exchanges between two people sitting across
                                 from each other have been chopped up into a  series of back-and-forth medium closeups,
                                 which isn't the way these scenes are supposed to play.

                                 Nevertheless, in either version the movie remains recommended. But allow me to suggest
                                 some additional viewing--a selective Pulp Fiction Antecedents Film Festival. For while
                                 each of the three interlinked stories that make  up Pulp Fiction--revolving around the business
                                 and personal concerns of superbad gangster Marcellus Wallace (Ving Rhames), his hitmen
                                 Vincent and Jules (Travolta and Samuel L. Jackson), and boxer Butch (Bruce Willis)--has
                                 its own attributes, each also alludes to other movies. And I'm not just talking plotlines; some
                                 of the smallest details hark back to great moments in movie history. Take Thurman's  black page
                                 boy wig, an homage to Louise Brooks' tonsorial stylings in G.W. Pabst's classic
                                 1928 melodrama Pandora's Box. Variations on that 'do have blared "instant vixen" in scores of
                                 movies that followed, from Jean-Luc Godard's A Woman Is a Woman to Jonathan Demme's
                                 Something Wild, and it's no coincidence that all of these movies influenced Pulp Fiction's overall
                                 tone.

                                 As for what influences the movie's action, the episode in which hapless Vincent is tempted by
                                 Marcellus' wife, Mia (Thurman), whom he's been asked to "look after," echoes the vintage
                                 noir Out of the Past, in which Robert Mitchum falls for a bad guy's girl. When Pulp Fiction's
                                 Butch takes a payoff to throw a fight and then doesn't, Tarantino nods to director Robert
                                 Wise's engrossing The Set-Up, in which the apostate pugilist (Robert Ryan) tries to flee
                                 from mobsters after failing to take a dive. The queasy trouble Butch ends up in, however,
                                 crosses Deliverance with The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and features characters that would
                                 have been inconceivable in Wise's heyday.

                                 Some of Pulp Fiction's influences are a bit more contemporary: Harvey Keitel's Winston Wolf,
                                 who helps Vincent and Jules dispose of a messy corpse, is a benign take on Victor "the
                                 Cleaner," the role Keitel played in Point of No Return. Still, Tarantino's range of references
                                 proves he's smarter than the average hipster. Gen-Xers like to cite Repo Man's glowing car
                                 trunk as the source of the unearthly light emanating from the briefcase Vincent and Jules
                                 are delivering to Marcellus, but said glow doubtless originated from a sealed box in
                                 Robert Aldrich's Kiss Me Deadly.

                                 The whole joke behind Jack Rabbit Slim's, the  restaurant where Travolta and Thurman win
                                 the twist contest, is that everything about it is a movie--or a pop-culture--reference. This
                                 scene's constant name-dropping suggests many titles for bonus viewing. The mention of a
                                 Douglas Sirk steak, for instance, made me hungry for that director's lush drama Imitation
                                 of Life.

                                 But Tarantino is a lot more than a walking film encyclopedia. Pulp Fiction is full of audacious,
                                 original dialogue; his ability to take what seem like minor conversational themes and dovetail
                                 them onto later exchanges for maximum comic effect is close to genius. And the action can
                                 be literally he art-stopping. Still, one of the coolest things about Pulp Fiction is its many links to other
                                 pleasures. When you return your copy, you'll have plenty of ideas about what to rent next.
                                 A-
 

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