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Sinopsis

Ahora podrás Ver Pulp Fiction Online
Del directore Quentin Tarantino

Jules y Vincent son dos asesinos a sueldo con muy pocas luces que trabajan para Marsellus Wallace. Antes de realizar un trabajo, Vincent le confiesa a Jules que Marsellus le ha pedido que cuide de Mia, su mujer. Jules le recomienda prudencia porque es muy peligroso sobrepasarse con la novia del jefe, pero llega la hora de trabajar y ambos deben ponerse manos a la obra. Su misión: recuperar un misterioso maletín.

Storyline »

Storyline:

Jules Winnfield and Vincent Vega are two hitmen who are out to retrieve a suitcase stolen from their employer, mob boss Marsellus Wallace. Wallace has also asked Vincent to take his wife Mia out a few days later when Wallace himself will be out of town. Butch Coolidge is an aging boxer who is paid by Wallace to lose his next fight. The lives of these seemingly unrelated people are woven together comprising of a series of funny, bizarre and uncalled-for incidents.

Rotten Tomatoes

Early on in Quentin Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction, there’s a transporting sequence in which veteran Los Angeles hit man Vincent Vega (John Travolta) takes Mia (Uma Thurman), the wife of his criminal boss, to Jack Rabbit Slim’s, a faux-1950s diner so shiny and sprawling it’s like a mall out of your dreams. Vincent is supposed to be Mia’s chaperon, but she’s a cocaine-fueled party girl who keeps throwing him seductive looks, and this makes him a little nervous: According to legend, Mia’s husband, the all-powerful Marsellus (Ving Rhames), had someone tossed off a balcony merely for giving Mia a foot massage. Friendly and slightly bloated, with long stringy black hair, Travolta still has his ingenuously goofy charisma, but he also lets us see that Vincent — a man of sharpened instincts — is making moves, doing everything in his power not to flirt.

Before long, Mia announces that she wants to compete in the Jack Rabbit Slim’s dance contest. As the two begin twisting away on stage to Chuck Berry’s ”You Never Can Tell,” the dance becomes an extension of their dialogue — but what lifts the scene into the stratosphere is the way it taps our buried desire to see John Travolta dance again, to see his goofiness redeemed by swagger. You get the feeling that Tarantino staged this scene because he had to stage it. He’s in thrall to the ecstasy, the pop delirium of the moment, and that’s the sensation that courses through the entire movie.

Watching Pulp Fiction, you don’t just get engrossed in what’s happening on screen. You get intoxicated by it — high on the rediscovery of how pleasurable a movie can be. I’m not sure I’ve ever encountered a filmmaker who combined discipline and control with sheer wild-ass joy the way that Tarantino does. For 2 hours and 35 minutes, we’re drawn into the lives of violently impassioned underworld characters — hit men, drug dealers, lethal vamps — who become figments of fury and grace and desire. We’re caught up in dialogue of such fiendishly elaborate wit it suggests a Martin Scorsese film written by Preston Sturges, in plot twists — they’re closer to zigzags — that are like whims bubbling up from the director’s unconscious. Pulp Fiction is the work of a new-style punk virtuoso. It is, quite simply, the most exhilarating piece of filmmaking to come along in the nearly five years I’ve been writing for this magazine.

The movie is an amalgam of three stories, but the characters are overlapped in the ingenious, lapidary style of Robert Altman. It’s really one big story — a pulp symphony in three movements. (Tarantino even goes Altman one better: He overlaps the time frame.) The first section, which centers on Vincent and Mia’s night out, also features Vincent’s partner, Jules (Samuel L. Jackson). The two thugs entertain themselves by engaging in rapid-fire combative exchanges on every subject from McDonald’s restaurants in Paris to the relative cleanliness of pigs and dogs.

Tarantino’s dialogue, with its densely propulsive, almost lawyerly fervor, its peppery comic blend of literacy and funk, has more snap and fight than most directors’ action scenes; the laugh lines come bursting off the screen like shrapnel. Yet Tarantino also loves the intricate pleasures of narrative. In every scene of Pulp Fiction he has devised a way to make us ask, ”What’s going to happen next?” The question emerges less from suspense-movie trickery than from an intermingling of hope, dread, and fate — from Tarantino’s vision of the world as a brightly colored existential playground.

This notion is realized most spectacularly in the second episode, in which a palooka named Butch (Bruce Willis), having been ordered to throw a fight, wins it instead, then tries to escape with his European baby-doll girlfriend (Maria de Medeiros). The scenes between these two have a piquant intimacy. It turns out, though, that the director is softening us for the kill. For Butch is soon plunged into a predicament so nightmarish, so deliriously lurid, that it has us reeling in shock even as we’re laughing at the bad-boy audacity of Tarantino’s vision.

Willis, his emotions as exposed as his nearly shaved scalp, makes Butch a complexly sympathetic hero: now dim, now brutal, now tender, now an avenging samurai returning to hell to save the man who’d sworn to kill him. The thrill — and originality — of Pulp Fiction is the way it shows us characters acting far better than we expected in situations more threatening than we could have imagined… By Owen Gleiberman

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"No es el mismo juego; tampoco es la misma liga; ni siquiera es el mismo puto deporte". Una vez visto esto en los primeros minutos sabes que esta peli te va a enamorar. Y así cada escena, cada diálogo y cada situación se quedan grabados en tu cabeza como esos grandes momentos del cine que nunca podrás olvidar. Y hay muchos. Es la combinación de crear grandes momentos que grandes diálogos, con ese humor tan oscuro e irónico con el que te partes (y después te sientes un pelín mal, pero se pasa rápido)

Después de las primeras escenas, que ya cautivan, te encuentras con un montaje cuidado y orginial, con un desorden temporal que ordena a su vez la historia, dando soluciones en su justo momento.

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