For someone who is positively passionate about all things Film & TV, the erratic lack of classics I can claim I’ve watched before is somewhat sinful. But I’m actively working on it, and very much enjoying doing so. This weekend I watched Pulp Fiction for the first time (I’M SORRY LEAVE ME ALONE I KNOW). It may not have changed my life, but it did force me to appreciate Tarantino and the movies monumental screenplay and dialogue. You know that scene in Jimmys house, after Vincent and Jules accidentally blow poor old Marvins head off? Bonnie is on the way home, time is running out at a dangerous pace, and shit is about to hit the fan in a massive way. But the characters continue to engage in slow movements and relaxed conversation, not a bit of panic in them, all the while I’m trying to figure out how I can climb into the screen so I can scrub the Chevrolet Malibu & power hose the blood off the two lads myself. I try to tell myself, this is a classic Quentin Tarantino, there are more massacres than there are characters and Bonnie will be dealt with accordingly, The Wolf is here to clean up this mess and I don’t need to be worrying about the aftermath, it’s not even real life. But I don’t believe myself for a second. My mind is screaming “HURRY UP SHES NEARLY HOME!!!”. I’m in it, part of the crime and part of the massacre and part of the aftermath, and I think that’s what makes a great movie.