As the story unspooled whole scenes and chunks of dialogue came flooding back to me. Not because I was one of those Quentin Tarantino anoraks who memorised every frame and every line of the script but because so many others did and then talked about them - on tv, on the radio, in print, and in everyday life.
This hip, irreverent, pop-culture laden dialogue was writer-director Quentin Tarantino's trademark. It had been perfected in his directorial debut "Reservoir Dogs" two years earlier, and that film's incredible success had made him the hottest property in Hollywood. Stars queued up for the chance to work with him have a little of that coolness rub off on them and their career. PULP FICTION brought John Travolta back from the dead and confirmed Jackson as the hippest actor in town.
But what appeared so exciting, fresh and original 16 years ago felt contrived and tedious upon second viewing last night. The plot repeatedly ground to a halt while Jackson and Travolta spewed minute after minute of mostly pointless dialogue. If I met either of these characters in real life they'd have to hold their gun to my head to compel to listen to their self-indulgent ramblings.
The fault for this lies less with Tarantino than with popular culture (in the form of the tabloid media, manufacturers of pop culture posters and postcards, and those sad mo-fos who deludedly believed that memorising chunks of film dialogue would make them 'cool') which elevated everything about PULP FICTION to such unrealistic heights of adulation that a fall was inevitable.
For me this film has not stood the test of time. What had been fresh, funny and original in 1994 is now tiresomely annoying and an ordeal which (for academic reasons) had to be endured.
Was forced to watch "From Paris With Love" the other night and the best throwaway scene in that movie was Travolta eating a "royale with cheese".
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