Pulp Fiction: Top of the Second Tier

This review was published originally in cinekklesia on February 10, 2007.

What does it take to make an A+ movie? The formula is quite simple: good writing, good acting, and a theme that is innovative, intelligent, and/or provocative. What does it take to make an A- movie? The formula is just as simple: good writing and good acting — but you can skip the theme. Notice that the formula for an A- movie doesn't allow one to choose any two elements; if one has an interesting theme with bad writing or acting, then the entire endeavor immediately falls flat, and the most that the director can hope for is a B+ (if critics and audience members feel generous).

Quentin Tarantino's Pulp Fiction (1994), generally regarded as a contemporary classic, is a good example of how to make a solid A- movie. Die-hard Tarantino fans, of course, would take serious issue with my not recognizing his effort as deserving an A+, as would the American Film Institute, which currently lists it as one of the "100 Greatest American Movies of All Time" (No. 95), and IMDb members, who have voted the movie into the No. 8 slot on that site's Top 250. However, such adulation misses the point: Pulp Fiction is special not because it breathes the rarefied air at the apex of American cinema, but rather, because it resides at the apex of second-tier American cinema.

Pulp Fiction's appeal lies, in part, on its lack of a discernible point. Detractors may argue that this makes the movie a simple artifact of "meaningless violence," but they, too (like Tarantino's fans), don't get it right. Pulp Fiction's "point" is simply the exercise of style. This means that it doesn't rise to the A+ level of film making (contra Tarantino's fans), nor does it wallow in the mire of bad cinema (contra his foes). Rather, Pulp Fiction takes cinematic style and stretches it to the breaking point, creating an experience that is aesthetically fascinating, if thematically vacuous.

In terms of the screenplay, Tarantino demonstrates a deft understanding of human conversation. At one level, Pulp Fiction is simply a series of relatively detailed discourses between characters; each scene/segment is long and detailed, both propelling the overall plot and serving as an independent vignette in its own right. Sure, at one level, the conversations often focus on silly, obscure topics that would not concern most people, and yes, a lot of the subject matter is crude. However, Tarantino is a master of structuring the dynamics of conversations so as to produce an intelligently comical effect. In addition, the fact that Tarantino doesn't hesitate to write long scenes that probe characters' motivations and personality quirks is refreshing; rather than worry about losing his audience's interest, he instead pours his energies into crafting a strong script. Regardless of how one feels about the content of Tarantino's writing, his ability to structure dialog well is almost beyond dispute.

Besides the screenplay, Pulp Fiction benefits from strong performances by a star-studded cast. We have a mob boss (Ving Rhames), his two thugs (Samuel L. Jackson and John Travolta), his girlfriend (Uma Thurman), a corrupt boxer (Bruce Willis), and an underworld "problem solver" (Harvey Keitel). Even Tarantino himself plays one of the thug's associates. While in many ways, the characters are mere caricatures or "types," the actors' performances are so on-target that they are highly believable. While they may find themselves in ridiculous situations, their reactions to those situations are internally logical, coherent, and even sensible. As with Pulp Fiction's script, the acting is so structurally sound that the content of their performance (what they say and do) has little bearing on the overall quality of said performance.

As such, Pulp Fiction's strong writing and acting render its lack of theme/message/idea inconsequential. One gets the sense that Tarantino's priorities involve anything and everything but theme; it is almost as though he has decided that the "deep" movie is not his specialty, that Hollywood has a need for intelligently stylish film (specifically influenced by 70s-era blaxploitation and kung fu), and that he exists to fill that niche. Thus, Pulp Fiction is destined to fulfill a subservient position in relation to A+ work, but there is no shame in that. To be at, or near, the top of thematically vacuous cinema is no small feat, and Tarantino evinces a talent that few possess. (It is perhaps interesting to note that Pulp Fiction shares the same epochal space as Seinfeld, the television series that was, supposedly, about "nothing.")

So, what is Pulp Fiction's place in American cinema? Does it deserve the esteem that professionals and consumers have heaped on it? As long as its fans do not take it for more than it is (it is not "brilliant" in any absolute sense), then yes, it deserves praise. Has it changed American cinema in any meaningful or discernible way? Perhaps, though it is still too early to tell. One thing is for certain: Tarantino belongs to that club of directors whose work is so distinct (almost unique) that it would be hard for anyone else to mimic their films successfully. (Wes Anderson is another such director that comes to mind.) As such, that may be Pulp Fiction's legacy: a funny, stylish, and clever mid-90s romp that is worth watching but ultimately irreproducible.