Back in 1992, before Pulp Fiction created the furor it created, Quentin was digging a crime movie, which is a given considering he's Quentin, about a bunch of guys who have divided views on tipping and Like A Virgin, the song by Madonna. And then, they're put through a diamond heist which goes horribly wrong, which leaves one of them with a lesion, one of them trying to save him, one of them doubting all the things that he can doubt and one of them cutting off the ear of a cop who happened to be a spectator.
Reservoir Dogs had acquired a cult status of the height independent filmmakers can only dream of acquiring. A talky film about a botched heist, we're being thrown into a whirlwind of details about the heist, the people involved and what happened. Here's the thing : we don't actually see it happening. So, we've got to take their word for it. What I don't get is how Quentin arranged the financing needed for this. Made at only a million and a half, the budget may look exiguous but this is a unique film that's an amalgam of an experiment and a commercial project. You may enjoy the incredibly funny discussion on tipping early on in the film, the crackling one-liners but the schizophrenic violence may pose as a problem for you folks. I mean, you really won't savor watching some poor sod's ear being chopped off using a straight razor while having your lunch, would you? Thought so.
So, the shocked men go apeshit after returning to their rendezvous point, an abandoned warehouse. Mr. Pink, the cocky one who doubts stuff, he's the one scared shitless. He's trying to figure out without any luck what just happened. Mr. White, the expert, is trying to save his friend, Mr. Orange, who's been shot in the belly. Mr. Orange's about to die, he's lost a lot of blood and he's losing more every minute. Mr. Pink's all over the place, he's getting on everyone's nerves. Both he and Mr. White degrade the suave Mr. Blonde, who landed them in the soup in the first place. Mr. Blonde was the one who started shooting people and nearly shot them both in an attempt to ward off the cops that were swarming the place.
The script, penned by Tarantino, takes its own time to build the characters and supervise the setup. There's a liberal amount of profanity the coarse jargon is laced with. That's not to say the dialogue is not amusing. Tarantino, the master of great dialogue, delivers a substantial amount of quotable quotes beside the witty one-liners. But he falters when he creates his characters, whom we're supposed to sympathize with, as unfeeling and austere. Which makes it difficult to invest in them, hence the story which runs purely on its characters. Steve Buscemi's Mr. Pink is one evolved character whom I enjoyed watching going nuts on-screen but I'm afraid I can't say the same about Harvey Keitel's or Michael Madsen's characters.
Michael Madsen's Mr. Blonde is a mirthless loony who shoots innocent civilians and captures a cop, Marvin Nash. Later on, before Joe and Eddie, the father-son bad guys who hired the Loony Toons, arrive, he proudly shows off his catch to Mr. Pink and Mr. White, who proceed to coax out some information to a pressing problem they might have : is there an undercover cop in the unit? Mr. Pink suspects there might be, Mr. White agrees and Mr. Blonde just wants to have fun. He's not as interested in finding out as he is in torturing the poor fiend. He cuts off the ear of Nash before being shot.
Here's where I stop with the plot because here's where it gets real interesting. We have a bunch of dorks trying to figure out what happened, trying to keep things cordial but are still suspicious of one another. They drool on each other, commiserate but they would not hesitate to pull the trigger if need be.
I liked Reservoir Dogs. I liked the dialogue, I liked the idea, I liked the ritzy approach. But, what I found really surprising was, I didn't love the movie. Yeah, if you ask me if I enjoyed it, I'd probably say yes. If you ask me if I'd want to watch it again, I'd probably say no. Two contrasting thoughts in essence but they make sense to me.
Look, I liked how it started off. The opening sequence establishes the characters with wonderful finesse, allowing us a glimpse into their thoughts, their way of things. I loved how it was structured, you know. Editor Sally Menke was arguably one of the finest, most influential film editors of her time. But it's harrowing when you find out at some point of time that the director isn't very sold to the idea of making the movie about its characters. He's got a plot he wants to work with. Some of the characters are unevolved, under-written but their thoughts aren't. When we want to know more about the character, we're being told of what he makes of the things that transpired. Sad, sad.
But I'll cut Tarantino some slack. Maybe it's because I'm sitting in my living room in 2013, watching it on television so I have no idea how it was like to sit in a theatre in 1992, watching the hoodlums go cuckoo on the big screen. Time blunts the impact, yeah.
Reservoir Dogs may be the greatest independent film of all-time, because it's a marvelous product to achieve from such a scant budget. But, in terms of storytelling, it promises a lot but not a lot of it sticks. Still, it can be worth your time if you enjoy a piece of cinema that's unique and ornate in its construction.
Reservoir Dogs had acquired a cult status of the height independent filmmakers can only dream of acquiring. A talky film about a botched heist, we're being thrown into a whirlwind of details about the heist, the people involved and what happened. Here's the thing : we don't actually see it happening. So, we've got to take their word for it. What I don't get is how Quentin arranged the financing needed for this. Made at only a million and a half, the budget may look exiguous but this is a unique film that's an amalgam of an experiment and a commercial project. You may enjoy the incredibly funny discussion on tipping early on in the film, the crackling one-liners but the schizophrenic violence may pose as a problem for you folks. I mean, you really won't savor watching some poor sod's ear being chopped off using a straight razor while having your lunch, would you? Thought so.
So, the shocked men go apeshit after returning to their rendezvous point, an abandoned warehouse. Mr. Pink, the cocky one who doubts stuff, he's the one scared shitless. He's trying to figure out without any luck what just happened. Mr. White, the expert, is trying to save his friend, Mr. Orange, who's been shot in the belly. Mr. Orange's about to die, he's lost a lot of blood and he's losing more every minute. Mr. Pink's all over the place, he's getting on everyone's nerves. Both he and Mr. White degrade the suave Mr. Blonde, who landed them in the soup in the first place. Mr. Blonde was the one who started shooting people and nearly shot them both in an attempt to ward off the cops that were swarming the place.
The script, penned by Tarantino, takes its own time to build the characters and supervise the setup. There's a liberal amount of profanity the coarse jargon is laced with. That's not to say the dialogue is not amusing. Tarantino, the master of great dialogue, delivers a substantial amount of quotable quotes beside the witty one-liners. But he falters when he creates his characters, whom we're supposed to sympathize with, as unfeeling and austere. Which makes it difficult to invest in them, hence the story which runs purely on its characters. Steve Buscemi's Mr. Pink is one evolved character whom I enjoyed watching going nuts on-screen but I'm afraid I can't say the same about Harvey Keitel's or Michael Madsen's characters.
Michael Madsen's Mr. Blonde is a mirthless loony who shoots innocent civilians and captures a cop, Marvin Nash. Later on, before Joe and Eddie, the father-son bad guys who hired the Loony Toons, arrive, he proudly shows off his catch to Mr. Pink and Mr. White, who proceed to coax out some information to a pressing problem they might have : is there an undercover cop in the unit? Mr. Pink suspects there might be, Mr. White agrees and Mr. Blonde just wants to have fun. He's not as interested in finding out as he is in torturing the poor fiend. He cuts off the ear of Nash before being shot.
Here's where I stop with the plot because here's where it gets real interesting. We have a bunch of dorks trying to figure out what happened, trying to keep things cordial but are still suspicious of one another. They drool on each other, commiserate but they would not hesitate to pull the trigger if need be.
I liked Reservoir Dogs. I liked the dialogue, I liked the idea, I liked the ritzy approach. But, what I found really surprising was, I didn't love the movie. Yeah, if you ask me if I enjoyed it, I'd probably say yes. If you ask me if I'd want to watch it again, I'd probably say no. Two contrasting thoughts in essence but they make sense to me.
But I'll cut Tarantino some slack. Maybe it's because I'm sitting in my living room in 2013, watching it on television so I have no idea how it was like to sit in a theatre in 1992, watching the hoodlums go cuckoo on the big screen. Time blunts the impact, yeah.
Reservoir Dogs may be the greatest independent film of all-time, because it's a marvelous product to achieve from such a scant budget. But, in terms of storytelling, it promises a lot but not a lot of it sticks. Still, it can be worth your time if you enjoy a piece of cinema that's unique and ornate in its construction.
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