Bad Mother Fucker.

PULP FICTION (1994)

Image from screencream.com.

Last Minute M. strikes again! I still have a few hours of daylight, shut it. Either way, it's May, which means it's Pulp Fiction time! I will admit, this review was (and still is) a little daunting for me to write. Pulp Fiction is one of my all time favorite movies, but when it comes to actually talking about the movie, it's hard to articulate exactly what makes it such a fucking classic. Still, for the sake of QT Blogathon, I grit my teeth and powered through. As they say: Fuck pride.

The Plot: Where do begin? Pulp Fiction is a bit of a doozy in that it doesn't actually have a cookie-cutter plot or narrative. Instead, we've got a couple different stories on our plate. We have Bruce Willis, the aging boxer who doesn't go down when he should and has to keep the mob off his tail. We have Jules and Vincent, the two mobsters who get in trouble when a job goes south and they're forced to clean up the mess. And we have Vincent and Mia, the mob boss' wife, who go out on a completely platonic date. But even laying each subplot out like that just doesn't do the movie justice. It's a twisted and jumbled ensemble film, and it works. Completely. In a way that would never work again. Tarantino, thank you for breaking the mold once more.

The Music: This one is filled with some really great tracks. As in all Tarantino movies, the music isn't something that hides in the shadows and comes out to play whenever there's an Oscar moment in the works. Rather, the music has a life of its own and keeps up with the pace of the movie. There are not a lot of film soundtracks I could listen to repetitively and never get tired of, but this is one of them. From Al Green's Let's Stay Together to Dusty Springfield's Son Of A Preacher Man, it's a soundtrack that rides right along with the excellence of the movie. And, of course, Misirlou will forever be known as the Pulp Fiction theme song. Not to mention, it's hard to listen to Flowers On The Wall by the Statler Brothers without doing Bruce Willis' "kangaroo" face.

The Characters/The Actors: I couldn't do different sections to describe the characters and actors this time around for one simple reason: the actors completely vanish in this movie. Pulp Fiction is just one of those movies I can't watch and namedrop, which is a compliment coming from someone who sounds like she's reciting fucking IMDB when she watches a movie. Still, the writing is so fucking good that major names like Samuel L. Jackson, Bruce Willis, and John Travolta disappear into the badassitry that is their characters.

Is this what you call an uncomfortable silence?

One person I have to give a shout out to, however, is Uma Thurman's portrayal of Misses Mia Wallace. Uma Thurman, as she has proved in recent years, can be a bit of a hit and miss actress. Anyone see My Super Ex-Girlfriend? Me neither. Nonetheless, say what you will, but under Tarantino's direction, Uma is phenomenal. She's his muse and his masterpiece. She fits perfectly into the skin of the eccentric mob wife, Mia Wallace, and recites Tarantino's lines with ease and character. What can we say? The lady's got spunk.

Lastly, there are a handful of minor characters that need mention. Amanda Plummer is a fucking wild woman as "Honey Bunny". Eric Stoltz is awesome, as always, will someone please tell me why he fell off the face of cinema? Peter Greene is an underrated creepy bastard. Winston "The Wolf" will never be replicated. Maria de Medeiros is adorable and French (and has lesbian sex with Uma Thurman. My life is complete). One after the other, all badass characters. 

The Conversation: What does Marcellus Wallace look like? I had to think long and hard about this one. Because it's really, really impossible to pick one gem of dialogue out of a movie filled with brilliance. However, I've got to hand it to Jules. Samuel L. Jackson has always been the guy who turns Tarantino's dialogue into poetry, and he doesn't fall short here. The entire scene is brilliant--from the infamous Royale With Cheese conversation to a heated debate about foot massages. And once the two mobsters do finally push their way into the room, it's on. Jules is one intimidating motherfucker, and the last person you want to invite over for breakfast. I dare anyone to try to look that frightening eating a burger. And then not only is his interrogation brilliant, but we get the monologue. The bible verse. In any other movie, with any other actor, this would be a copout moment. I mean, c'mon. Bible verse. We've seen it done a thousand and one times, right (I'm looking at you, Boondock Saints)? But somehow, it just works. Don't ask me how. If I knew the recipe for Tarantino script writing, I would not be writing this blog in Barnes & Noble and enjoying free wifi.

Strut.

The Iconic Moment: And then Tarantino does something brilliant. He puts the King Of Swagger on the dance floor. Think about it: what put John Travolta on the map? Busting moves in the likes of Grease and Saturday Night Fever. What put him back on the map? Boogying it up with Uma Thurman on the dance floor. It's the perfect transition from their dinner conversation, their bantering back-and-forth, the tension between the two. They keep time with each other, moving close, pulling away, but most importantly, never taking their eyes off each other. It's not only an extension of their conversation, it elevates the conversation. And, no. They don't have to bump and grind against each other to get a good sexual tension going, thank you very much. I'll take Uma's scuba diver any day of the week.

Fun Fact: I saw Be Cool just to watch Travolta and Thurman dance again.

Image from barlowbrewing.com.

The Mexican Standoff: Of course, our iconic Mexican Standoff. Between Jules, Vincent, "Honeybunny", and "Ringo". Really, this standoff is just another excuse for Jules to be the badass he is. And I am 100% okay with that.


The Suitcase: Fuck you, fucking briefcase of mystery. What the shit is in the briefcase???

And that's all I've got for Pulp Fiction. Because it's damn hard to do a movie like that justice. Next up: From Dusk Till Dawn (1996)! Even though I'm fully aware that it's a Tarantino-Rodriguez joint flick. With that said, I've already reviewed From Dusk Till Dawn, so I might have to go against the grain of my own blogathon. I'm thinking of taking a stab at Four Rooms (1995), since it has a Tarantino segment. Either way, if anyone has Pulp Fiction posts they want to throw at me, email me at mhufstader (at) gm.slc.edu and I'll put them all up sometime tomorrow!

Oh, yeah. And did I mention this happened?

First Things Fuckin' Last.

RESERVOIR DOGS (1992)

Tarantino's got junk in his trunk.

I know what you're thinking. M., really? It's your own damn QT Blogathon, and you still can't help but procrastinate like a little bitch? Yeah, yeah, so call me Last Second Sam. But I don't seem to be the only way with lastseconditis--if anyone wants to get in on Reservoir Dogs, now is the time! Send me (grasshopperon (at) earthlink.net) anything and everything you've written (even that old dusty piece you wrote some five years ago that's sitting on your shelf) about Reservoir Dogs before April 1st and I'll give you a shout out. Hell, I'm a procrastinator too, if you send it on April 1st, you'll probably get a shout out anyway. And if you don't, I've only got one person so far who's send me anything, so I'll just put his blog up in big sparkly letters and it'll be like his birthday all over again.

image from listal.

But, really, I understand--the truth is, it's incredibly hard to for me write about Reservoir Dogs. I think it has something to do with the fact that I start convulsing like a diabetic squirrel every time the movie comes up. It's just so fucking good. Period. It's so good, it's really hard to wrap my head around the fact that this is Quentin Tarantino's first full-on film--if you don't count My Best Friend's Birthday. Which everyone should give a look through anyway, just because 1) you get Tarantino ODing and 2) he finally admits his foot fetish. But back to The Dogs. I've come up with a list of all the ways Reservoir Dogs fills the quota for a Tarantino movie. Ramblers, let's get rambling. 

The Plot: It's a simple enough plot--a gang of thieves are stuck in a warehouse after a robbery gone bad and forced to figure out which one of them is the rat. It's practically textbook. Until Tarantino gets his hands on it, that is.

The Music: What astounds me about Reservoir Dogs is that Tarantino does not hold back. He isn't trying to please anyone. He's making the movie he wants, period. It has all of his signature moves: the long, drawn out conversations, the Mexican standoff, and of course, the hectic and often hilarious music. As the Dogs strut their stuff to Little Green Bag, you've gotta wonder if everyone knew quite how iconic this movie was going to turn out to be. Then to throw the whole movie on its head by ending on Harry Nilsson's Coconut--I mean, who does that shit? Tarantino does that shit. Black humor is really what sells Tarantino movies time and time again--after all, it's be easy to sell this off as a tense drama with a lot of hard stares and overcompensating tough guys. Instead, we've got Mr. Orange flailing in his own blood (over cheery music, I might add), Mr. Pink whining about tipping waitresses, and a Copacabana funeral hymn. There is no such thing as background music in a Tarantino movie, instead he uses it to heighten the hilarity of the situation and keeps us completely and utterly engaged. Then, of course, there's Stuck In The Middle With You. More on that later...

Badasses being badass.

The Characters: Despite the fact that this is about as ensemble as they get, if I had to pick two main characters they'd probably be Mr. Orange and Mr. White. Mr. White is one of those criminals you can't help but love--he's got a heart of gold, and while you don't particularly ever want to get on Mr. White's bad side, he's a very caring kind of guy. He spends the majority of the movie trying to comfort Mr. Orange and he stands up for things we can all get behind--like loyalty and bromance. Mr. Orange is the other side of that coin--he's a sneaky little undercover bastard, but on the same token, he's very human. A little cocky, maybe, a little reckless, but he's "the good guy"...or at least, he would be in any other film. However, in a movie filled to the brim with anti-heroes, it's the man of the law who becomes the closest thing to an antagonist. 

The Actors: Tarantino is known for doing two things: taking actors out of retirement and putting obscure faces on the map. And it's not hard to see why. Every Dog shines--from Harvey Keitel's no-nonsense bull dog mug to Tim Roth's frantic terrier energy to Steve Buscemi's wide-eyed Chihuahua yaps. If you're wondering what happened to those infamous dogs playing poker, look no further.

And I've got to give some love and attention to the supporting cast. Of course, Michael Madsen, my man. But I'm talking about Chris Penn, who was underrated in his time, but always a joy to watch. Seriously, you can tell why Nice Guy Eddie doesn't really come into present tense of the film until the end because when he is in it, he steals the fucking camera. Also, I will add that Chris Penn and Michael Madsen were very close in real life, and their chemistry shows when they're rolling around on Big Daddy's floor together. Speaking of Big Daddy, Lawrence Tierney. Apparently a pain in the ass to work with. You have to listen to the stories to believe them, so I'm just going to put the video up here. But damn...worth the pain. Joe Cabot is the quintessential mob boss man, and you don't get much better than that.

The Conversation: I mean, really. What would a Tarantino movie be without those long, drawn out conversations that he's the absolute master of perfecting? I've heard some people complain that they get bored whenever the characters dive into conversations about movies or music or whateverthefuck, but those people clearly aren't listening. Although they seem random, they never are--they always divulge important information about the characters while steadily building a natural yet intense tension.

In my opinion, there are two really brilliant conversations in Reservoir Dogs. The first is, of course, the opening scene. AKA: Madonna's Big Dick. It's hilarious, it's natural, and it sets up the characters relationships for the entire movie. We've got tension between Mr. Blonde and Mr. White, which in turn highlights Mr. Blonde's loyalty to Joe Cabot. We've got Mr. Orange trying to blend in and doing his damnedest to be "one of the guys". We've got Mr. Pink showing his true selfish colors as the one character focused entirely on his own survival. It's a ten minute conversation about music and address books, but it sets up the tone of the movie and gives us an insight into every one of the characters at the table.

The second conversation that I love is more of a monologue than anything. Mr. Orange's one story that's supposed to sell him as a completely legit criminal. It's a brilliant piece, complete with flashbacks and an occasional interjection from his audience. And it does a multitude of things all at once: it solidifies Mr. Orange's backstory, it shows him as the master storyteller he is, and it gives us a reason to root for him. Not to mention, it's just fucking hilarious. Oh, and hi, Lawrence Bender.

image from listal.

The Iconic Moment: You guessed it. My absolute favorite moment of the entire film--Stuck In The Middle With You. It works on every level imaginable. It's grotesque, it's painful, it makes me laugh, it makes me cringe, and it makes me love Michael Madsen more than I thought possible. And Mr. Blonde cuts a bitch's ear off. C'MON. From Madsen's funny twists and turns, to the way he talks into the severed body part, to the final, abrupt end, there is nothing I don't love about this scene. We even get a neat little intermission, following Mr. Blonde out of the warehouse to get his gas can. Dogs bark, birds sing, kids play. And then it's right back inside to finish up his twisted, bloody dance. No matter how many times I watch this scene, I can't get over it. Magic, my friends, fucking magic.

And then there's Kirk Baltz. Also known as Officer Marvin Nash. Give this man an award. Fun fact of the day: most of his panic was ad-libbed. Which is impressive to get away with, especially on a Tarantino set. Still, the moment when he starts on about his children at home? All improvisation. Looking for proof? Listen closely, the newly-turned-father Michael Madsen grumbles in displeasure off screen. Still, they kept the take, because Kirk Baltz is that fucking brilliant.

Image from gonemovies.com.

The Mexican Standoff: Where to end this lovefest except at the end? After running a perfect 90 minutes, the tension of the film finally culminates until a full on Mexican standoff. We've got the Cabots on one side--Joe and Nice Guy Eddie--and Mr. White on the other side, standing up for his ideals and his bromance. Never mind that the bromance is ill-fated and ends in tragedy. And, of course, the only one who makes it out alive is the never-tips-a-waitress Mr. Pink, who you can hear getting pulled over and arrested in the background. All in all, it was the only way this movie could've ended, and Tarantino pulls it off brilliantly. With coconuts. There is really nothing I don't love about this movie. If you haven't seen it, I pity the fool.

Coming up next: True Romance (1993). I'll be putting up all the (one?) Reservoir Dogs posts I receive on/around April 1st. April will in turn be the month of the True Romance, and if you send me any and everything you've got on the movie, I'll put up those posts on March 1st. Full speed ahead to Django!

Fight Now, Cry Later.

FROM DUSK TILL DAWN (1996)

Image snagged from HDWarez

In the spirit of October being Halloween month, I think it's about time I got some motherfucking monster movies under my belt. And so, I begin with one of my favorites: the Robert Rodriguez/Quentin Tarantino mash up From Dusk Till Dawn. As someone who watches movies, well, for the movie, I feel it's my duty to give you a preface for all those who haven't seen this. If you haven't seen From Dusk Till Dawn and have very little idea what it's about, DON'T READ THIS REVIEW. In fact, don't read ANY reviews. Don't read reviews, or descriptions, don't even watch the trailer. My experience with this movie runs like this: I went to the video store (ah, the age of actually physically holding movies in your hand before you take them home), saw Quentin Tarantino's name on the cover, and popped it in my player. I jumped into the movie without any idea with what it was about. And so, as it took off, I invested myself in the criminals-on-the-run aspect. In the hostage situation. In the two sets of characters the story runs with. And then, halfway through, once they're at the Titty Twister and the movie turns into a...well...completely and utterly different genre, I was caught totally off guard. And fucking loved it. So, this is the last time I'll say it, if you're still reading and you haven't seem this movie, what's wrong with you? The time to stop starts here.

Movie poster from impawards.com

Now. All the rest of you ramblers. Let's get rambling. This movie in my mind is a Grindhouse pre-Grindhouse. It's Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino's first real badass baby (not counting Tarantino's segment in Four Rooms, while that was badass in it's own right, wasn't so much a feature film). It's proof that the two really should never stop making movies together. The first half is pure Tarantino. The long stretches of seemingly casual conversation, perfect character studies condensed into a single flowing conversation, layered with a building tension or a sudden dramatic twist. The beginning shot with the Texas Ranger (who cares if Michael Parks is typecasted in every Tarantino movie? He's fucking gold) is a perfect example of what seems to be simple conversation, layered suddenly with the threat of the Gecko Brother's entrance. 

While George Clooney usually makes it impossible NOT to love him, this is hands down my favorite of his roles (yes, even better than Ocean's 13). Seth Gecko is a cool cat; he's intimidating, but trustworthy, and he's got a cool as fuck tattoo. He's the one person you don't want to fuck with, yet at the same time you can't help but want to be his friend. It's no surprise that someone who could pull off that role would land the spot of a retranslated Odysseus in the Coen Brother's O, Brother, Where Art Thou?. His charisma demands the attention of every scene. At the same time, Quentin surprisingly matches Clooney's performance, as Seth's twisted and paranoid brother Richie Gecko. Tarantino seems to have an uncanny knack for playing uncontrollable rapists. I'm not sure whether I should be worried. Nonetheless, the two have an amazing chemistry, especially delivered when Richie takes advantage of the hostage, leaving Seth to rub his nose in it (sidenote: the splicing of the hostage's body with Seth's repulsed expression? Chills. And it's hard to freak me out).

On the flip side, we have the Partridge Family. Harvey Keitel plays Jacob, the "Mean Motherfucking Servant Of God" preacher who's lost his faith after the death of his wife. As usual, Keitel delivers, quiet but calculating, the voice of reason in every situation. After the Wolf, Jacob, and Mr. White, if Keitel told me to jump a bridge, I'd jump it. Jacob is taking care of his two kids, Kate (played by a young Juliette Lewis) and his adopted chinese son Scott (played by Ernest Liu who, unsurprisingly, did not go on to be a star, but to his credit, he gave the role everything it required). This family of three gets turned upside down once they have a run in with the Gecko brothers and are forced to help them down past the border of Mexico. 

This is NOT a psycho.

Lo and behold, halfway through the movie, the trailer tugs on passed the border and the odd group reaches the Titty Twister. And the story's over and everyone lives happily ever after. Right. Right? Wrong. Rodriguez steps in. And suddenly, what was an amazing fucking crime movie about dodging the cops and holding hostages turns into an amazing fucking vampire/creature/whateverthefuckthosethingsare movie. Rodriguez comes in campy, twisted, and bloody as the smoking hot strippers suddenly turn the tables on the wolf-eyed men--prey eats predator. It's, in my mind, the perfect combination: Rodriguez gives us a full strip tease delivered by none other than the beautiful Salma Hayek (with a SNAKE. C'mon, people), and then returns favor to the ladies who rip the power back from the men between their bloody fangs. The vampires are savage, brutal, and disgusting--they won't lift their pinky fingers as they sip blood from crystal glasses or sparkle in the sunlight. These blood thirsty bastards are straight up classic vampire--they burn when sunlight hits them, they're wary of crosses, they turn into bats, and they're straight up Nosferatu ugly. These vampires will not be your friends and they will not be your lovers. In fact, Seth Gecko offers the best advice anyone has ever given in a creature film when he says: "fight now, cry later!"

With great actors, a great script, and to top it all off, a great soundtrack (Tito & Tarantula, the band from the Titty Twister, match the tone of movie beautifully), it's very hard for this movie not to make anyone's favorite's list. Do yourself a favor and rewatch it this Halloween.