Okay. You’ve held out long enough. Do you plunk down $125 and change for Criterion’s at-long-last-it’s-here special CAV edition of 'Pulp Fiction' and sell off your CAV Japanese import? How about the CLV THX Miramax version that you rushed out and got last September? Do you really want—or need—more than one copy of 'Pulp Fiction' on laserdisc? Do you pass on this third version on laserdisc and just keep the one (or two) you already have? Or do you buy it anyway because you’re a rabid fan of the film?
Such a troublesome dilemma, one even the loquacious Jules would be hard-pressed to resolve over a single Royale with Cheese.
Let’s just start right off by setting the record straight. What’s in the new Criterion Collection deluxe boxed CAV edition of 'Pulp Fiction' is there because writer/director Quentin Tarantino wanted it there. Criterion produced the disc—and it’s a fine-looking disc with superb picture and sound—and they distributed it, but 100% of the creative decisions as to what to include and what not to include in the supplemental section were made by Herr Tarantino himself.
Criterion wanted to do a running, scene-specific audio commentary. Nixed by Tarantino. Criterion wanted more deleted scenes. Nixed by Tarantino. Criterion probably wanted to feature more trailers, bloopers, screen tests, and anything else that would give viewers insight into the making of the film. Nixed, nixed, nixed.
For all the creative control and influence Tarantino had over this deluxe edition, I’m surprised the box didn’t have the header "Tarantino Home Video."
To begin with, the 4-disc set is housed in a black box. The cover artwork is one of the most unattractive pieces of key art imaginable for the film (and looking at the posters featured in a small still-frame section of international publicity campaigns, there were so many better art concepts to choose from). But don’t blame Criterion. It was Tarantino’s decision to use the final cover art, despite unanimous negative reaction.
The film itself is spread awkwardly across 6 sides of 3 platters. At 154 minutes—and with an ever-engrossing narrative—'Pulp Fiction' is not a film that lends itself easily to being interrupted five times (!) for side/disc flips. The CAV format is a nice gimmick for special-effects-laden films, but using the still-step function to study frames here only diminishes the steadily-increasing momentum and heightens the film’s production flaws and editing inconsistencies (such as: the unfortunate Marvin, who gets his head blown off in the back seat of a car, is later shown in the trunk, with his head still intact, and the stunt dummy is far from convincing; or, before Alexis Arquette empties his gun "around" Jules and Vincent, you can clearly see the bullet holes in the wall behind them).
Furthermore, in order to accommodate for the additional CAV side/disc breaks as compared to the previous Miramax CLV edition, Criterion’s been forced to artificially "fade out" the audio at the close of side 4, and do a false fade-to-black at a key moment just as side 5 ends. This is very annoying, especially to a viewer who’s seen the film countless times, enough times to know that these fades shouldn’t be there. If it was that much of a chore to master a CAV version, and the end result compromised the fluidity and momentum of key scenes, I’d gladly do nicely without CAV, thank you. But don’t blame Criterion. All this was Tarantino’s decision.
As for the film, the image is better than the Miramax version (actually after going through five copies of the Miramax THX version, I gave up on trying to get a disc without visual "rolling" defects). The letterboxing ratio is identical, and the same brightness and saturated colors scheme is maintained -- as intended. Like the previous version, the sound is terrific, but there aren’t too many moments that take advantage of the rear-channel. The rear-channel boost is utilized mostly for the music and the occasional explosive sound effect. Criterion’s CAV version one-ups the Miramax version with a newly-remixed 5.1-channel Dolby Digital AC-3 soundtrack, but, again, I can’t imagine even the AC-3 track bringing down the house. And though this disc, too, has been stamped with the THX logo, it’s probably more for prestige factor, because there’s nothing about the movie or discs of 'Pulp Fiction' that demands they should be THX.
Most fans of 'Pulp Fiction' probably already own at least one of the two disc versions that have been available since last summer, and they’ll be interested in this disc only for the supplementaries included. Many 'Pulp Fiction' fans will be rightly disappointed, then, at what Criterion has offered here. As I mentioned earlier, there’s NO AUDIO COMMENTARY track. Criterion wanted to do one (they pioneered the audio essay), but Tarantino refused, stating that he wanted his fans to see him too. So, in the stead of a running audio essay, we get an hour-long interview with Charlie Rose. It’s a good interview (it’s Tarantino’s favorite, which is why he chose it), but it’s nearly two years old, it was already broadcast and a transcript has been available on the internet since the time it originally aired. It’s really a waste of valuable disc space—to say nothing for the fact that watching Tarantino rant uncontrollably for 60 minutes is a numbing experience; after a while, you’ll opt to shut it off just to shut him up.
There are two short behind-the-scenes segments, one of the producers setting up the Uma/John dance scene at Jack Rabbit Slims (long and boring) and the other of the filmmakers staging the Bruce car accident shot (amusing and intriguing. There should have been more stuff like this, especially when Willis candidly muses about Burt Reynolds’ fallen career—but this is hardly the stuff great "collector’s editions" are made of).
The familiar theatrical trailer is seen once again, as are 13 television spots that vary only slightly from one another (watching them gets redundant, and you’ll feel like you’re trapped in an infinite loop). There are 4 deleted scenes, one of which is good, but each of them rightfully cut from the film. Of course, the omnipresent, ever-annoying Tarantino must be on-camera to introduce these deleted scenes (by the way, 2 of these 4 scenes made their way onto the VHS sell-through "special edition" cassette in February). According to the screenplay, there were so many other tidbits to include here -- my favorite bit occurred after the "Monster Joe" scene, as Harvey Keitel grabs Travolta’s hand and does an impromptu impersonation of Christopher Walken from 'The Dead Zone', body contortions and all. The impersonation was deleted, but the dialogue that followed remains: "It’s your future ... I see .. a cab ride!").
A collection of production photos is included (and will somebody please explain to me why Samuel Jackson’s publicity shots show him without his in-character afro or mutton chops?). Also included is a handful of "memorabilia" photos—the trophy John and Uma win; the samurai sword Willis uses; the Jack Rabbit Slims menu (which, incidentally, doesn’t even list the food John and Uma actually order!). There’s also a short production featurette, which was produced by Miramax for the original 1994 electronic press kit.
Considering that this disc sells for a cool $125, the supplementary section is an outrage. But don’t blame Criterion; they only put in what Tarantino wanted them to put in. I never bothered with the Japanese import disc, but Miramax’s letterboxed version was like a nice juicy Quarter Pounder, with a small side of delectable extras that made the disc’s $40 price tag a real bargain. This gargantuan, over-priced and under-stuffed Criterion version is like buying a gigantic triple Big Mac—but getting an undercooked burger with only half the meat and no cheese.
Vital Statistics: The Criterion Collection; 4 discs, 8 sides; CAV (interview on side 8 in CLV); Anamorphic widescreen (2.35:1); Stereo Surround; Dolby Digital AC-3; Chapter stops; Closed captioned; $124.95.
S. Damien Segal.
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