Thirty years later: Has “Pulp Fiction” held up better than Quentin Tarantino?

Nowadays, one’s political inclinations are easily revealed by one’s feelings about Quentin Tarantino. Tarantino makes an impressive presence, from the red-pilled corners of the internet to harmless dudebros slipping in your direct messages. It makes sense that the director’s announcement in 2024 that his tenth and final effort will be his last would elicit divergent reactions.

Directors with Tarantino’s level of polarization are frequently fraught with various implications: radical, inventive auteurs prepared to brave all odds and take a stand for what they believe in. This was undoubtedly the case in 1994 when Pulp Fiction had its Cannes debut before inevitably making its way down the shelves of beloved films. Even if Tarantino, 61, has moved on, the filmbros are still enamored with Vincent and Jules’ bold charms.

A filmbro darling

Tarantino argues that the concept of the filmbro existed long before the events of 1994. The filmbro is a spoiled young man who thinks he has excellent taste in movies and takes his favorites for granted. He clambers over a ladder of macho-infused, IMDb-approved titles that only a man could truly understand. His standard of excellence absolves him of his utter incapacity to comprehend other people’s lives and realities.

The filmbro’s repertoire includes several names besides Tarantino. To defend art, it is impossible to hold an artist solely responsible for the fandoms they create, primarily because fans are not an artist’s offspring. A more appropriate metaphor for the mutually beneficial exchange between the producer and the buyer is a catalyst. Naturally, decades of cinema and cultural theory only serve to refute this purported romance: the maker consumes, the consumer produces. A simply dialectical blurring of boundaries, or, as the red-pilled hotspots of debate would have you believe, outright satanic.

Therefore, is Pulp Fiction entirely Tarantino’s fault to explain? There is the possibly needless violence, the unrestrained use of the n-word, and the unrestricted acceptance of homophobia. These accusations have some validity. However, these provocations seem a lot less irritating in today’s digitally wrecked society. It is almost like calling Dune an orientalist’s wet dream—true but dull—to accuse Pulp Fiction of racism. A cult movie that has had decades to marinade in adulation and scorn cannot withstand true but dull forms of criticism, unlike Dune’s originality and Timothée Chalamet’s dimpled smile.

‘Royale with cheese’

Thirty years later, what new ground is there to break? First of all, Tarantino has already offended enough people because his audiences are ready. The people who are upset, unbothered, and indifferent will likely stay that way. Is Tarantino’s body of work still relevant in the modern era, even though filmbros appropriated his library and made it too obvious for new political sensibilities?

Going back to Tarantino and Roger Avary’s ramshackle, fan-driven screenplay means sifting through a ton of movie history. Pulp Fiction is set in a world of chaos and criminality, where storylines fit together like a jigsaw puzzle. The film is set against a backdrop of 1950s imagery, with its time divided between fast-paced escapades and languid discussion. The latter is what gives the movie its delightful quality and contains some of its most controversial moments.

Up until that point, John Travolta’s main claim to fame had been his dancing and musical acting. He now plays hitman Vincent Vega, whose misdeeds span from unintentional kills to desperate cleanups. Samuel L. Jackson’s Jules sits next to him, thinking about European fast food and the secrets of the cosmos. In his clumsy but charming role, Travolta depends on Eric Stoltz’s character, who utilizes a medical encyclopedia in an emergency, and Harvey Keitel’s Mr. Wolf, the ultimate fixer.

Electric chemistry between Travolta and Uma Thurman, who plays the mob boss’s wife, Mia Wallace, culminates in a night at Jack Rabbit Slim’s where Stoltz screams instructions over an adrenaline syringe, sending the crowd into a panic. As Butch Coolidge and his gullible girlfriend, Bruce Willis, and Maria de Medeiros up the wild fun, escape a disastrous brawl and a mission to retrieve a wristwatch that culminates in a memorable monologue by Christopher Walken. Characters find themselves in absurdly increasing scenarios as the film’s sticky situations grow, such as Butch and the mob boss being taken prisoner by leather-clad freaks.

Here is a wonderful question to pose: If Tarantino and his excesses of violence and racist epithets are taken away twice, what remains of Pulp Fiction? However, a more pertinent question is: What qualifies a cultural text for interpretation-based redemption? Here are tarnished legacies that must be claimed when they arise. There are a dozen better films with subversive politics that undermine attempts to canonize the bloody feuds between Butch and Marsellus for every Pulp Fiction.

Unforgivable, unforgettable

But Tarantino’s filmography doesn’t have to be buried behind the postmodern architecture of ultraviolent, crime-ridden Los Angeles. Pulp Fiction is still a welcome diversion from the dull, plot-driven banter of contemporary movies, even when three times away from the flaws of Django Unchained and Inglourious Basterds. Nonetheless, it’s primarily an amazing collage of Tarantino’s numerous afternoons spent working at a video store. The end product is a collection of obscure, low-budget movies that are oddly portrayed as sophisticated exploitation films.

By this point, the novelty of the film’s nonlinear flow, which is comprised of four interconnected stories woven together, which served as a model for 90s postmodernism, has worn off. Pulp Fiction is a multifaceted work that appeals to a wide range of audiences. The film’s unsullied enjoyment gleaned from each and every shot serves as its saving grace rather than an innovative contribution to cinematic style.

Over the course of a scene, a character may never face the viewer, the camera may refuse to move at will, and lenses may adjust just because they can. Catch a unique shot, such as an injured Butch taking a brief break against a wall while a bleeding Marsellus pursues him. In contrast, a gangster’s strong discourse often references a biblical verse that outlines right and wrong.

In the opening vignette, Mia objects to awkward silences. “Why do we think that in order to feel comfortable, we must yak about bullsh*t?” As she smokes her cigarette, she presses a cherry to her lips. That’s when you realize you’ve connected with someone truly unique. when you can peacefully enjoy the silence and just shut the f*ck up for a minute.