Pulp Fiction

Pulp, n.: 1. A soft, moist, shapeless mass of matter.
2. A magazine or book containing lurid subject matter and being characteristically printed on rough, unfinished paper.
…the flash rolls off, and the roller-coaster of entertainment begins. The notorious “Tarantino” is all set, to drive you into his madness of film-art. The film puts the aforementioned definition into practice. A combination of amorphously time-lined sequences, and a series of uncanny situations shackles even a pop-corn seeker or pee-goer into his seat.

Pulp Fiction is the second film directed and co-written by Quentin Tarantino and Roger Avary, after the duo’s popular debut “The Reservoir Dogs”. Pulp Fiction traces roots in its style from its predecessor: the wit, the candid conversational set-up, the suspense, the characterization etc; the flavours although sounding repetitive, are cocktailed enough to give the rush inescapable.

The story begins with a supposed loot by a thief-couple in a restaurant. This opening scene is cut-short incomplete by a series of chapters ahead. A small prelude lay ahead of each of these chapters. The first and subsequent chapters deal with and around the godfather-esque Wallace (V. Rhames). How the story of Vincent Vega (J. Travolta), with a doping profile and inner-cringing fear of dealing with godfather’s wife Mia Wallace (Uma Thurman), eventually unfolds; how another story in which Butch (Bruce Willis), a crafty professional boxer, after duping Wallace, meets a wave of uncalled incidents just to get a grip of his misplaced inherited gold-watch; and how in a story, Bonnie (S. Jackson) and his friend, have a near-to-death experience which catalyses: his take on the positivity of god, and his way to ultimately redeeming himself of his sins.

Travolta and Jackson, as a duo, show their compatibility with superb on-screen presence. One is drawn into the duo’s mischief, their characteristic conflicting-yet-tacitly understanding rapport, and their pompously-played characters. The playful, silly characterization of Thurman, the heroic yet tainted characterization of Willis, make their presence felt. Any Tarantino follower could easily mark his signatures in scenes like the one of Samuel’s, where he reads an extract from the Bible with mock intensity and high emotion just before he lodges bullets into his target’s head, or the one in which Travolta accidently shoots one of his colleagues’ brain at point-blank range in a car, allegedly because of a minor bump.

This film doesn’t see itself fit for any one category of audience; mainly because its genre itself remains ambiguous. One is not spared with explicit moments of homosexuality, rape, dope and blood. But coming from a film of this skeleton, you experience it all in fun and incredible anticipation. An exhibition of diversity, a masterpiece of entertainment, a spit in the face of anachronism, “I Say a Must-Watch”.

My rating: 4.5/5