I’m not a fan of Pulp Fiction. I
was never sucked into Quentin Tarantino’s subsequent hype; I’d already been
there and done that. After seeing Reservoir Dogs, in 1992, I was
immediately taken by his sense of dialogue, story structure and wide-screen
compositions. I read his original screenplays for True Romance, Natural
Born Killers, and Pulp Fiction before the filmed versions were
released. Pulp was my least favorite -- it was, in my opinion, little
more than a bloated, attention seeking mishmash of everything he’d already
done. It’s explosion and deification turned me off quicker to Quentin
Tarantino than a greasy Big Kahuna Burger would for Moby.
So, it is now with great pleasure that I declare the new Reservoir Dogs Ten
Years DVD to be one of the best I own.
The double-disk set comes with five different covers: Mr. Blonde, Mr. Pink, Mr.
White, Mr. Orange, and a collector’s edition Mr. Brown (Mr. Shit). I opted for
the latter over Mr. Pink, because the neon pink hue hurt my eyes. And like Mr.
Pink, I didn’t want to be thought of as a pussy.
Upon opening the box I took out the merchandise booklet. There was immediate
laughter. I’d been confronted by an ad for Reservoir Dogs action
figures. They’d even made one of Marvin Nash, the earless cop! This started me
into a good mood. Hopefully, this wasn’t going to be another self-righteous
exercise in egotism...give or take.
In fact, what’s so refreshing about this package, promotions and packaging
ploys aside, is its willingness to share the stage. There aren’t any
pretentious, filmed for posterity, making-of documentaries, the way David
Fincher and Paul Thomas Anderson, convinced of their works’ importance, get
under way before the movie is even released. Instead, there’s a multitude of
interviews with cast members, a touchingly hysterical memorial to Lawrence
Tierney, a retrospective of 1992’s Sundance class, tributes to filmmakers who
inspired Quentin, and both a cinematic and literary guide to hard-boiled noir.
There’s also the movie itself, presented in a new wide-screen transfer, as
well as a full-screen version. The color timing is different here than on the
old laser disk, which favored more pungent colors. Whereas the former lent a
green rot to the mortuary, and a much needed burst of color during Mr.
Orange’s monologue in front of a wall of graffiti, this new print is muted and
looks as though it was flashed by a white Kino-Flo.
Reservoir Dogs still works, and still features Tarantino’s best
dialogue. The in-depth compositions, a cross between 1970s Gordon Willis and
Vilmos Zsigmond’s Sugarland Express are as much a breath of fresh air
as they were a decade ago. This is also the shortest and tightest of
Tarantino’s directorial efforts, clocking in at a lean 100 minutes. (His next
feature, Kill Bill, reportedly has a screenplay exceeding 200 pages.)
It’s also exciting to see the young, nihilistic Tarantino at work. Reservoir
Dogs is a hard movie without a drop of sentimentality. The entire cast dies.
His later works, from Pulp Fiction to Jackie Brown, kept stressing
the importance of second, or at least final, chances. Both of those films
featured characters choosing to depart their lives of crime for something
better. Whereas they’re ultimately about hope, Dogs features none.
DVD packages are becoming more elaborate, yet more predictable. They seem
designed to launch films into immediate classic status. Recipe: Instant
masterpiece, just add commentary track! Most DVDs, especially the twenty or so
versions Bay and Bruckheimer have strangely released of the ass-awful Pearl
Harbor, are essentially propaganda. While its nice to have extras,
ultimately, for most movies anyway, they’re more fun to watch than the
feature.
Reservoir Dogs Ten Years is not an instant classic. It’s a reflection
on a film that was made for $1.25 and
-Copyright 2002 by
Jamie Stuart