I've been in something of a standoff with Quentin Tarantino for years now. One of my rules for this director series is that you don't get written about unless I've seen ten of your films, or half of your output if you're dead. If you count "Kill Bill" as a single film, Tarantino has directed nine features. Since he only intends to direct ten features in total, he's in no hurry to make that tenth film. It's been six years since "Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood," and there is absolutely nothing new from him on the horizon. Since I've been enjoying Tarantino's work less and less with each new movie, I think there's little chance of me taking much of a shine to that theoretical tenth film. So, instead of waiting around, I'm counting "Kill Bill" as two films, and now I finally get to write about "Jackie Brown."
Tarantino has a reputation for reviving the careers of older actors who have hit a slump. Pam Grier, a former '70s blaxploitation star, is one of the major examples. "Jackie Brown," adapted from an Elmore Leonard novel, is clearly a star vehicle designed for her, and full of little tributes and references to Grier's past work and the era she came up in. Tarantino changed the main character's name and ethnicity specifically so that Grier could play her. And Grier does not hesitate to remind us that she is a movie star. From the opening title sequence, which combines "The Graduate" with "Across 110th Street," she dominates the frame. Yes, the lead of the movie is a black woman in her forties, and the movie isn't shy about that for a second.
Much has been made of Tarantino's more prurient obsessions, but I love how Jackie Brown is portrayed in this movie. She's treated as an object of desire, but never fetishized or overtly sexualized. Jackie is not the over-the-top action heroine of "Coffy" or "Foxy Brown," but an aging flight attendant caught in a bad situation, who faces either doing time or starting her life over again at 44. A possible third option means taking a risk to get herself in the clear, and putting some long-dormant criminal talents to good use. Pam Grier's onscreen presence is instantly commanding, yet vulnerable enough for us to believe that men like Max Cherry and Ray Nicolette would fall in love with her. We see Jackie wielding a gun, briefly, but she's smart enough that she never has to use it. And when she has her third act glow-up, her outfit is a badass black suit, the kind favored by Tarantino characters in "Reservoir Dogs" and "Pulp Fiction."
"Jackie Brown" also boasts one of the greatest supporting casts ever assembled for a motion picture. You've got Samuel L. Jackson in a "Superfly" wig being the most charming evil bastard you ever met. You've got gum-chewing ATF agent Michael Keaton who sympathizes with Jackie in spite of himself. You've got DeNiro and Bridget Fonda hanging out and watching "Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry," before embarking on one of the worst criminal partnerships of all time. And then you've got Robert Forster. So much of "Jackie Brown" lives in his wistful reaction shots and long silences. And I so appreciate that Tarantino lets his characters have long silences and private moments to themselves, where they're allowed to just exist with their thoughts.
No discussion of "Jackie Brown" can be had without mentioning the soundtrack, built on favorites from Tarantino's record collection. The meticulous curation, with many scenes written with specific songs in mind, lends so much to the way the film feels from moment to moment. Jackie and Max's relationship sparking to The Delphonics records, the tracks playing in Ordell's car with the levels just the way he likes them, and Jackie finally singing along to Bobby Womack in the closing scene, all reflect a deep love and appreciation for the music that is part of the film's DNA.
While "Jackie Brown" didn't do well upon its initial release, being such a departure from Quentin Tarantino's earlier films, it's quietly grown in stature over the years to become widely recognized as his most mature and well-written feature. It's definitely the one I've appreciated more with age, as I've come to relate more to Jackie and Max's view of the world. And it's why I've been a little disappointed with every Tarantino film since. His movies have gotten bigger and bigger, but at the same time they've also gotten further and further away from matters of the heart.
What I've Seen - Quentin Tarantino
Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Pulp Fiction (1994)
Jackie Brown (1997)
Kill Bill: Volume 1 (2003)
Kill Bill: Volume 2 (2004)
Death Proof (2007)
Inglourious Basterds (2009)
Django Unchained (2012)
The Hateful Eight (2015)
Once Upon a Time...in Hollywood (2019)
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