Kerri Battles the AFI’s Top 100 – #94: Pulp Fiction

1994 was a pretty big year in Hollywood. That was the year that all of your all-time favorite movies were released. It was the year that Andy Dufresne taught us all that hope will set us free. It was the year we all learned that life is like a box of chocolates. Brandon Lee came back from the dead. Brad Pitt was a tortured vampire with a heart of gold. Arnold Schwarzenegger was a secret agent married to Jamie Lee Curtis. Jim Carrey was possessed by a cartoon mask and driving cross-country with  his best friend to find his dream girl. There was that bus that couldn’t slow down, a gate of sorts that took people across the stars, and THERE WERE TWO CAPTAINS OF THE STARSHIP ENTERPRISE IN THE SAME GOD DAMNED MOVIE! Throughout the year, each one of these movies had its moment of being the thing no one could seem to shut the fuck up about. Then October came, and with it, the wide release of Pulp Fiction. Almost immediately, it became the thing that no one would ever shut the fuck up about. Everything that came before it was nothing. Nothing! And with good reason, too.

Pulp Fiction is highly and impeccably stylized in this way that is both vibrant and filthy. It’s clever and uncomfortable and, really, just a little bit gross. It’s hard to follow but impossible to stop watching and, in the end, leaves behind the best kind of unanswered questions. It’s innovative and challenging and aesthetically significant and a laundry list of other pretentious adjectives of which places like the American Film Institute `are so very fond. But Pulp Fiction gave more than just itself to the world of movies. The AFI is going to tell you it’s a cinematic masterpiece that’s not to be missed. They’re going to focus on what they, as an audience, got out of Pulp Fiction rather than the gift we, the collective viewing public, received as a result of it. I prefer to look at it the other way around.

Samuel L. Jackson the person was a fairly successful actor before Pulp Fiction‘s immediate cult status. He probably would have continued along that trajectory without it, too. Thanks to it, though, we have all been blessed Samuel L. Jackson the badass motherfucking persona. If Sam Jackson had never played Jules Winnfield — or hadn’t played the ever-loving fuck out of the role the way that he did — the universe would have been altered and fandom as we know it would never exist. Mr. Jackson would probably never have gone on to be cast in a slew of roles that can best be described  as “men not to be fucking trifled with.” During these years, he also obviously discovered a latent connection with The Force, because he was able to use his Jedi Mind Trick on the feeble minded human-turtle hybrid, George Lucas. You see, Mr. Jackson was cast as the smoothest, coolest Jedi at the Academy simply because he mentioned off-hand in an interview that he would love to work with Lucas on a project.

With that nerd-cred level-up, Sam Jackson could have easily taken his power and become the tyranny of evil men. Instead, he chose to shepherd the weak through the valley and truly become his brother’s keeper and the finder of lost children. He was set to star in the unfettered turd with zero redeeming qualities, Snakes on a Plane. The internet as a whole cried out for justice and Samuel L. Jackson heard their pleas. He used his righteous might to force the studio to pay for reshoots on the already-wrapped flick, all for the sole purpose of capturing his voice uttering those fateful words: “GET THESE MOTHERFUCKING SNAKES OFF MY MOTHERFUCKING PLANE!” And thus, an accidental box office smash was born. And the people rejoiced.

Samuel L. Jackson was now, finally, powerful enough to do the unfathomable: to be cast as the notoriously badass and historically white Nick Fury without the internet burning down. Every couple of years, when the studios are ready to move on to a new comic book character,there are inevitably corresponding whispers that a character will be played by an actor with a different skin tone than the drawings. And every couple of years, fanboys from around the world clutch their  subtly racist pearls and gasp, “Won’t someone think of the children?!” Or, more accurately, “Spiderman can’t be black! Peter Parker has always been white! How dare you try to reboot comic book characters!” But not for Samuel L. When the fanboy community heard about this casting choice, it was more like, “Nick Fury can’t be bl– oh, Samuel L. Jackson? Ohhhh… Yeah, he could totally pull it off.” And, thanks to the unifying power of Mr. Jackson, the world of Hollywood has finally successfully portrayed a comic book badass well.

I think we can all agree that Samuel L. Jackson makes anything look cool. Generally speaking, that’s an ability that some motherfuckers are just born with. But, in this case, it’s a gift that may have remained hidden from the world if it weren’t for the vision of an incredibly irritating and creepy video store clerk who turned out to be a cinematic genius. It’s almost as though there were some kind of divine intervention for the greater good of all humankind’s future entertainment. For that impact on society alone, Pulp Fiction should earn a spot on the AFI’s Top 100. Everything else — the cinematography, the soundtrack, the editing, the unexpected revitalization of John Travolta’s career — is just icing on the cake. — KS