PULP FICTION: 4K UHD Blu-ray (Miramax, 1994) Paramount Home Video

History may provide for a kinder reflection, but in the opinion of this reviewer, director, Quentin Tarantino is a one hit wonder. That hit is undeniably Pulp Fiction (1994), a crudely eclectic ensemble piece, melding four distinct movie genres (the crime story, the suspense thriller, the screwball comedy, and the action movie) into one seamless, viciously enthralling, no-holds-barred spectacle. While much, if not all, of Tarantino’s filmic canon remains an oft grotesque assault on the senses – both, the five we know, as well as our sense of good taste, Pulp Fiction is irrefutably, a remarkable ‘break out’ for Tarantino’s particular lack of respect for the niceties.  Furthermore, his screenplay is an ingenious patchwork of sordid stories, curiously aloof and fascinating unto themselves, only to crystallize into one cohesive narrative mere moments before the final fade out. That’s a tough sell and a nearly impossible creative tightrope to balance. But Tarantino knows exactly when to depart from one story to move onto the next. He never lingers or divulges too much too soon during and manages the additional coup to keep us all guessing where the show’s intermittent shock and revulsion are headed. Pulp Fiction is a harrowing ‘dark ride’ through the recesses of some very depraved minds, coupled with all the writhing narrative pivots and plunges of a very exhilarating roller coaster.

Permit us to give the Cherokee/Irish Knoxville, Tennessee native his due, named in part after Burt Reynold’s Gunsmoke character, Quint Asper and who, while still underaged, worked as an usher at an adult theater, a recruiter in the aerospace industry, and then, did 5 years at a Manhattan Beach video store. His tastes always skewing toward the obscene and salacious, Tarantino met several of his later collaborators while attending acting classes at the James Best Theatre Company. Look closely for an early glimpse of him as one of the Elvis impersonators who appeared on Season 4’s ‘Sophia’s Wedding’ episode of TV’s wildly popular sit-com, The Golden Girls. Sinking his paltry $650 salary from that gig - and much of its $3,000 residuals - into the authorship of Reservoir Dogs (1992) – the resultant movie proved a palpable hit at the box office. In retrospect, however, Reservoir Dogs plays more like a dry run for Pulp Fiction than its own stand-alone creation. Thematically dark and perversely funny, Pulp Fiction shook Hollywood to its core, not so much for its originality, but rather, its raw and uninhibited wicked take on the criminal element at its most haphazard and greedy.

The picture’s stylized violence and non-linear storylines earned Tarantino a ‘shared’ Oscar for Best Screenplay with Roger Avary, as well as a nod for Best Director and Best Picture. Tarantino also took home the Palme d'Or at Cannes even as the ticket tally rose to $200 million worldwide. Aside: conventional logic suggests a critically acclaimed picture cannot also be a box office dynamo. But Pulp Fiction is both, and it remains a potpourri populated by stellar cameos, made pointedly, if compellingly ugly from Tarantino’s delicious pursuit into the aberrant. In hindsight, it is also the movie that reintroduced audiences to John Travolta - that 70’s pop icon, miserably to fizzle and all but vanish from the screen in the 80’s and, by 1994, to be considered something of a has-been in the industry. Travolta really does owe his resurrection and the latter half of his highly lucrative career to the awesome staying power of this movie. It’s a decidedly new Travolta we get in Pulp Fiction. Few actors have been as willing to take such risks. But here, Travolta is playing against type, eschewing the clean-shaven pin-up for his alter-ego, Vincent Vega - a long-haired assassin, ever so slightly insecure and gone to seed.  

The central plot of Pulp Fiction concerns two hit men, the aforementioned Vega and Jules Winnfield (Samuel L. Jackson). The pair are working for crime boss, Marcellus Wallace (Ving Rhames) to liquidate several former associates who have double-crossed Marcellus and stolen a very valuable piece of property (more on this later). On their fool’s errand, Jules and Vincent inadvertently connect with Ringo (Tim Roth) and Yolanda (Amanda Plummer) – small-time hoods about to hold up patrons at a roadside diner in broad daylight. This is Tarantino’s pre-title narrative hook and Roth and Plummer’s sizzling exposition sets the screen on fire. From here, we jump around unconventionally, first, to Vincent’s brief encounter with Marcellus’ wife, Mia (Uma Thurman), who almost dies from an accidental drug overdose while out on the town with him. We also meet washed-up prize fighter, Butch Coolidge (Bruce Willis) who refuses to take a payoff for throwing his upcoming match. Christopher Walken, in a riotous flashback, provides us with the history of a watch belonging to Butch’s dead war hero/father, he once concealed inside his own anal cavity to smuggle it out of Viet Nam. Don’t ask.

Pulp Fiction’s star power and its shock value converge on an intentionally disturbing rape involving rednecks, Zeb (Peter Greene) and Maynard (Duane Whitaker) taking out their sexual frustrations on a bound and gagged Marcellus. This ends when a bound and gagged Butch, their intended next victim, instead manages to free himself and slice through Zeb with a Japanese saber. Meanwhile, Vincent accidentally assassinates small-time hood, Marvin (Phil LaMarr) in the backseat of Marcellus’ car when his gun discharges after hitting a speed bump. The genius in Tarantino is how he can manage deliberately to orchestrate these gruesome exercises, repelling us with one act of violence – the rape – while ticking our collective funny bones with the other – Marvin’s brain-splattering dispatch. Somewhere between repulsion and exhilaration is Mia’s near-death experience, her breast bone penetrated by a stabbed injection of adrenaline straight into her heart to save her life. And, of course, there is the language to consider. Pulp Fiction is not a movie for either the faint of heart or Puritan sensibilities. In fact, it violates just about every tenet of public decency, yet with a ‘charm’ all its own. The viciousness in Tarantino’s story-telling arsenal is immediately apparent as Yolanda threatens to execute every last ‘mother fucking’ restaurant patron unless they acquiesce to her robbery demands. Unlike much of Tarantino’s later work, in which the obscenities gets bandied about, as if to spill from a ruptured colostomy bag full of verbal diarrhea, and merely, because he can, the profanity in Pulp Fiction is proficiently placed for maximum impact, amusement and laughs.

Even more satisfying than how all these parts come together, is just how masterfully each vignette manages to perfectly function as its own independent mini-movie. The great mystery – or rather, MacGuffin in the film, relates to what is inside a much sought-after briefcase recovered by Jules and Vincent on Marcellus’ behalf. Tarantino has always remained chary about divulging any concrete explanation here, the curious golden light emanating from inside the briefcase, interpreted by some as belonging to Marcellus’ soul. During the sequence where Marcellus orders Butch to throw his fight, we get our first clue – a big close-up on the back of Ving Rhames’ bald pate with a giant Band Aid concealing…a scar. If the object in the briefcase is Marcellus’ soul, how was it extracted from his body? Better question - once reacquired, how will it re-enter it? At some point I suppose abject acceptance will refute the evidence. After all, it’s only a movie. Pulp Fiction works on every level as a superiorly-crafted action/mystery/ comedy/drama. Alas, its’ reputation has dogged Tarantino ever since. Nothing Tarantino has come up with since Pulp Fiction has been nearly half as inventive or as entertaining. And much of what he has hewn during this interim has absolutely zero re-sell value. Seeing Kill Bill (2003) or the Hateful Eight (2015) once is, arguably, one-time too many. Still, what Tarantino has given us in this film is so good, so solidly crafted, so utterly compelling and on so many levels, its’ hard to fault him for perhaps failing to live up to his own legacy. Pulp Fiction is a very tough act to follow.

Paramount has inherited the picture from Miramax – its original distributor. The studio’s newly minted 4k Blu-ray is nothing short of excellent. Shot on Kodak stock, colors are exceptionally rich and vibrant here. Flesh tones are point-on accurate with an insane amount of fine detail emerging from ever pour of this spectacular UHD image. Grain has been reproduced to a finite precision. Aside: on anything less than an 85” monitor, it will be rendered virtually invisible. In projection, however, the visuals adopt a pure and organic texture, augmented by the subtle grain levels. Blacks are very deep and velvety without sacrificing image detail. The 5.1 DTS belies the fact it isn't a Dolby Atmos mix, but a revelation besides. Prepare to give your speakers, especially your base, a healthy workout. The UHD presentation includes two newly produced featurettes in HD – Not Your Usual Mindless Chit Chat, and Some Facts About The Fiction, plus an enhanced trivia track. An accompanying Blu-ray houses virtually all of the legacy features: cast interviews, Tarantino’s appearance on The Charlie Rose Show, Siskel & Ebert’s take on the picture, outtakes and other behind-the-scenes stuff, a stills gallery, trivia track and theatrical trailer. Bottom line: Tarantino’s raging masterwork arrives in 4K, offering the best the format has to offer. This is a reference-quality disc. Very highly recommended!

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

5

VIDEO/AUDIO

5+

EXTRAS

4