January 3rd, 2019 | Updated on February 14th, 2022
The lives of two mob hitmen, a boxer, a gangster’s wife, and a pair of diner bandits intertwine in four tales of violence and redemption.
Jules Winnfield (Samuel L. Jackson) and Vincent Vega (John Travolta) are two hit men who are out to retrieve a suitcase stolen from their employer, mob boss Marsellus Wallace (Ving Rhames). Wallace has also asked Vincent to take his wife Mia (Uma Thurman) out a few days later when Wallace himself will be out of town.
Butch Coolidge (Bruce Willis) is an aging boxer who is paid by Wallace to lose his fight. The lives of these seemingly unrelated people are woven together comprising of a series of funny, bizarre and uncalled-for incidents.
Watch Trailer Of Movie “Pulp Fiction” Here
Watch Now On Amazon Prime Video
Movie Reviews: “Pulp Fiction“
Movie Review: Los Angeles Times
From the moment it hit the screen at Cannes, even before it was awarded that festival’s celebrated Palme d’Or, “Pulp Fiction” and its writer-director Quentin Tarantino have been given the big-type, Second Coming treatment, drenching them in the kind of media awe and appreciation reserved for paradigms of cinematic accomplishment.
Of course, like that tornado, Tarantino is quite an event, a gifted writer and a man of filmmaking talent whose work both here and elsewhere can be impressive. But despite all the attention, this is not the resurrection of anything. “Pulp Fiction’s” anthology of stories about gangster fun and games in Los Angeles doesn’t merit sustained veneration.
Because “Pulp Fiction” is sporadically effective, the temptation to embrace the entire two hours and 29 minutes of Tarantiniana is strong. But in truth this is a noticeably uneven film, both too inward-looking and self-centered in its concerns and too outward-bound in the way it strains to outrage an audience, to be successful across the board.
For Full Movie Review, Click Here.
Movie Review: Chicago Tribune
The events of “Pulp Fiction” are so deliberately sordid, spun out with such ferocious comic glee, that the movie constantly hovers on self-parody. In Story One, a gangster’s mistress (Uma Thurman), who’s been flirting with her hit-man escort Vincent (John Travolta) at a fantastic ’50s-style restaurant called Jack Rabbit Slim’s, accidentally overdoses on his cache of heroin. His desperate attempts to revive her-aided by a spaced-out dealer and his punk housemate (Eric Stoltz and Rosanna Arquette)-are played as dark farce.
In the third episode-which happens, chronologically, right before the first-an accidental murder leaves a hostage’s blood and brains all over a car driven by Vincent and his partner, Samuel Jackson as the Bible-quoting Jules. What follows is a long comic sequence involving a “cleanup man” (Harvey Keitel as The Wolf) who’s been borrowed from another movie (the “Femme Nikita” knockoff “Point of No Return”) and shows up here in a tuxedo at 8:30 in the morning-at Quentin Tarantino’s house (he’s playing a quasi-crook).
For Full Movie Review, Click Here.
Movie Review: New York Daily News
It resurrects John Travolta from “Look Who’s Talking” hell, it makes Bruce Willis into a serious actor and it honors the power and fancy of intelligent dialogue (written by the director himself). From Tarantino’s last film, his debut “Reservoir Dogs,” about a bloodily botched jewel heist, you can guess that “Pulp Fiction” comes to town with a strong caveat: It’s not for everyone.
I mean it, if you have trouble with violence, needles, grotesquerie, samurai swords and the forgotten art of concentrating, then stay home.
For Full Movie Review, Click Here.
