Thirty years later, “Pulp Fiction” is still looking for the good guy – Luis Parrales

By the end of 1992, Tarantino had returned to the US with a script, albeit one scribbled over hundreds of insanely handwritten pages. “He’s functionally illiterate,” recalls stenographer Linda Chen Vanity Fair. “I averaged about 9,000 grammatical errors per page. After I corrected them, he tried to correct the mistakes because he fallen them.”

Did she feel like she was working on a modern cinematic masterpiece back then? “Not at all.”

But two years later pulp Fiction exploded and won the Palme d'Or before earning Tarantino and co-writer Roger Avary an Oscar for best original screenplay. On a budget of $8.5 million, it grossed $214 million worldwide, paving the way for indie classics like Memory, magnoliaAnd Mulholland Drive (to name only films that start with “M”) to experiment with overlapping, non-linear storylines. His superb quotability (“Royale with Cheese”, “I'm gonna git medieval on your ass”, “Zed's dead, baby, Zed's dead”) entered the cultural bloodstream, as did his poster – featuring a picture of a 24-year-old Uma Thurman, with aggressive bangs and a cigarette in hand, staring adorably into the camera – became a dorm room fixture.

Part of what makes up pulp Fiction What is so memorable, what continues to drive his critics and exaggerate his advocates, is his undeniable passion for film history. Each new viewing brings out another iconic reference, be it that of Alfred Hitchcock PsychoRobert Aldrichs Kiss me fatallyor even The Flintstones. “I steal from every single movie ever made,” Tarantino admitted Rich. (Even this phrase could have come from Pablo Picasso, who supposedly said, “Good artists copy, great artists steal.”)

The film also delivered some of the best performances of the 1990s. John Travolta almost didn't play Vincent – Michael Madsen had a scheduling conflict and Daniel Day-Lewis couldn't impress Tarantino, who turned him down – but his portrayal of the character was a great mix of cool and desperate. A producer mistook Samuel L. Jackson for Lawrence Fishburne (whoops) at the audition, angering the actor into giving a fiery rehearsal as Jules. Thank God: Jackson's ironic anger gave way pulp Fiction some of his most memorable lines. (“'What' is not a country I've ever heard of! English is spoken in 'What'?”) Bruce Willis brings a composed physicality to Butch Coolidge (the boxer), and Thurman transforms Mia Wallace (the wife of crime boss Marsellus Wallace). ) into an unforgettable Wyatthian coquette.

And when I re-watched the film today, I was surprised at how well it preempts one of Tarantino's main criticisms: that there isn't much of a da, da beyond the hyper-stylized dialogue and violence.

For his critics pulp Fiction– particularly its brutal, sometimes sadistic violence – is merely a pointless, unnecessary provocation. Kenneth Turan from the Los Angeles Times wrote in 1994 that the most graphic scenes “convey the uncomfortable feeling of creative desperation, of someone afraid of losing his reputation, looking for any way to hurt his feelings.” Catholic philosophers Francis Slade and Alasdair MacIntyre went even further further and argued that Tarantino's films –pulp Fiction contained – reflect the fundamental flaw in contemporary moral philosophy: our inability to recognize fixed teleologies ends in the universe, as opposed to mere explanations of ours will.

The result? A “world without end,” say Slade and MacIntyre, is one in which “violence becomes commonplace, commonplace, the way things are.” It doesn't matter what Marvin's shot in the face says about Jules and Vincent as people ; What matters is that they now have to respond to the consequences of the morally vacuous event – and that Tarantino can make a little game out of it.

This is a legitimate criticism of Tarantino's recent films –Inglourious Basterds, Django UnchainedAnd Once upon a time…in Hollywood– who are driven by a cathartic urge for revenge. Not from Pulp Fiction, although.

That's because once you get past the shock value of a gruesome overdose or The Gimp's bizarre appearance (if you know, you know), Tarantino keeps striking pulp Fiction Characters the Selection Doing good when it counts most – and they do that often. Despite the bounty on his head, Butch returns to save Marsellus. Even after their spontaneous dance competition, Vincent is determined not to cross any boundaries with the married Mia. “This is a moral test for yourself,” he even says to himself.

Most notably, even the carefree, cold-blooded Jules ultimately makes the right choice. For years he had been accusing his helpless targets of an (admittedly made-up) verse from the Old Testament, but at the end of the film Tarantino transforms these very words from harbingers of death into catalysts of redemption. “The truth is, you are the weak one,” Jules says to a potential victim at the end of the film, “and I am the tyranny of evil men.” But I'm trying, Ringo. I try really hard to be a shepherd.”

There's just more going on pulp Fiction as mere action and reaction in an empty, virtuous wasteland. No, Tarantino certainly does not evoke a revival of Aristotle without moral distortions. But perhaps in 1994 he was willing to point out that amid excess, violence and seeming futility, goodness bubbles to the surface even in a brutal world.