Tag: pulp fiction

Pulp Fiction and the Art of Non-Linear Storytelling

Movie script

Pulp Fiction is a great film. I don’t think I’m alone in thinking this.

One reason I dig this movie is its non-linear narrative style. Rather than employ a traditional cause-and-effect plot, writer/director Quentin Tarantino sequences Pulp Fiction out of order, on purpose. If each scene is a card, it’s safe to say Tarantino shuffled his deck. Or, more accurately, he stacked it.

Non-linear storytelling is challenging. Nonetheless, the payoffs are quite strong when it’s done well. Here are three benefits to using non-linear narratives.

Satisfying Complexity

While conventional storytelling is often made better by trimming complexity, non-linear stories work in a different way. Deciphering them is half the fun.

For example, you’ll remember a scene in Pulp Fiction in which Marsellus Wallace (Ving Rhames) pays Butch (Bruce Willis) to lose his next fight. In that  same scene, Vincent Vega (John Travolta) and Jules Winfield (Samuel L. Jackson) enter the scene wearing faded t-shirts and boxers. It’s a little odd, especially considering the previous scene in which they wore sharp suits. We don’t discover what happened until later in the film: Vincent accidentally shot a guy in the back seat of his car, making a bit of a mess. Those nice business suits had to go.

This is one advantage of non-linear storytelling. You can present an intriguing element in your timeline, then explain how it happened later.

Intersecting Characters

In non-linear stories, the main plot can often be divided into smaller subplots. This presents myriad opportunities for character arcs to intersect.

Take, for example, Honey Bunny (Amanda Plummer) and Ringo (Tim Roth). They’re the first characters we encounter in the film, and by the end, we’ve almost forgotten they appeared at all. Yet when Vincent and Jules enter the diner in the film’s final scene, we realize that all four characters were in the same place all along. We just didn’t know it yet.

It’s these intersections of plot that I just love. They’re super interesting, and they create a puzzle-like wonder for the writer. Where do these plots intersect? How do the paths of these characters cross?

Time Distortion

I think one of the coolest and weirdest parts of Pulp Fiction is the scene in which Butch kills Vincent. Whoops, spoiler. Anyway, I love that scene.

It’s cool and weird because Vincent is kind of the star of the movie. So there’s a big “What just happened?” moment when he’s killed in such an inglorious way. And yet, as mentioned earlier, Vincent’s death doesn’t preclude him from appearing once again in the film’s final act.

This departure from the linear plays two parts. For one, you get a jolt of confusion, especially if it’s your first time watching the film. When Vincent reappears after his death, you might ask yourself, “Wait a second…didn’t he get shot?” Then, as the scene plays out, we realize we’ve actually jumped back in time. And we finally find out where the t-shirts came from.

Also, the time shuffle adds a hint of sadness to that final diner scene. Because even though the film ends with Vincent and Jules walking off into the sunset, so to speak, we know that Vincent will later be killed. Sure, he’s a hitman. But he’s a likable hitman.

Non-linear storytelling is endlessly fascinating, and Pulp Fiction proves it. If you’re looking for a master class in the form, I highly recommend it.


Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction. His debut novel, Gerald Barkley Rocks, is available now on Amazon Kindle.

Pulp Fiction and the Advantages of Being Ambiguous

Pulp Fiction Logo

“The greater the ambiguity, the greater the pleasure.” – Milan Kundera

My fiancee and I just watched Pulp Fiction the other day, her for the first time and me for the hundredth, approximately.

If you haven’t seen it yet, go see it! And if you’ve seen it already, watch it again. Don’t worry, I’ll wait for you.

… You good? Good.

I’ve got a question for you: what did you think of the briefcase? You know, the one Jules (Samuel L. Jackson) and Vincent (John Travolta) recover from those guys in that apartment. The one that shines golden light upon the face of everyone who opens it. The one that we never discover the contents of.

For me, that briefcase is the best part of the movie. It’s pretty much the center of Jules and Vincent’s storyline, yet we don’t even know exactly what’s so great about it.

Isn’t that brilliant? I mean, let’s imagine for a second what could’ve been inside. Money, maybe? Sure. But isn’t that exactly what you’d expect to see? In a mobster movie, there’s probably nothing used more than a suitcase full of neatly-stacked hundred dollar bills. Imagine how disappointing that would be.

Okay, then maybe it’s something a little less cliche. Writer/director Quentin Tarantino stated that in an earlier draft, the briefcase contained a whole lot of diamonds. Which works a little better than money, but pretty much means the same thing.

The more I think about it, the more I like this idea: no matter what they might’ve shown us, nothing would’ve been as effective as showing us nothing at all. Instead of being given an answer, we’re presented with a question. We as the audience are asked by the filmmaker to provide our own explanations. We can’t help but wonder what would leave Vince Vega momentarily speechless, or leave Tim Roth’s character so awed.

As a result, the briefcase has become one of the most hotly debated topics among fans of the film. There are all sorts of great theories on what might be inside, ranging from a nuclear warhead to Marsellus Wallace’s soul to the physical manifestation of violence itself. No matter how unlikely the theory, no one can really prove or disprove anything. That’s the power of ambiguity: it allows us to fill in the blanks with whatever we like best.

Of course, the challenge with ambiguity is using the proper amount. The briefcase only works because we know enough about it to speculate. It’s obviously something very important, something that people are positively enchanted by. There’s an eerie golden light emanating from within. And the lock combination is, famously, the number 666.

Come on. I know you have some theories of your own, here. When ambiguity works, it works because the question is more interesting than any possible answers. That’s definitely the case with the briefcase in Pulp Fiction. 


Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction. His debut novel, Gerald Barkley Rocksis available now on Amazon Kindle.

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