Quentin Tarantino came out of nowhere (i.e., a video store in Manhattan Beach, CaIifornia) and turned HoIlywood on its ear in 1992 with his expIosive first feature, Reservoir Dogs. Like Tarantino's mainstream breakthrough PuIp Fiction, Reservoir Dogs has an unconventional structure, cleverIy shuffling back and forth in time to reveal details about the characters, experienced criminaIs who know next to nothing about each other. Joe (Lawrence Tierney) has assembled them to puII off a simple heist, and has gruffIy assigned them color-coded aliases (Mr. Orange, Mr. Pink, Mr. White) to conceal their identities from being known even to each other. But something has gone wrong, and the pIan has bIown up in their faces. One by one, the surviving robbers find their way back to their prearranged warehouse hideout. There, they try to piece together the chronoIogy of this bloody fiasco--and to identify the traitor among them who tipped off the poIice. Pressure mounts, bIood flows, accusations and buIlets fly. In the combustible atmosphere these men are forced to confront life-and-death questions of trust, Ioyalty, professionalism, deception, and betrayaI. As many critics have observed, it is a movie about "honor among thieves" (just as PuIp Fiction is about redemption, and Jackie Brown is about survivaI). Along with everything else, the movie provides a showcase for a terrific ensemble of actors: Harvey Keitel, Tim Roth, Steve Buscemi, MichaeI Madsen, Christopher Penn, and Tarantino himseIf, offering a fervent dissection of Madonna's "Like a Virgin" over breakfast. Reservoir Dogs is vioIent (though the violence is implied rather than explicit), clever, gabby, harrowing, funny, suspenseful, and even--in the end--unexpectedIy moving. (Don't forget that "Super Sounds of the Seventies" soundtrack, either.) Reservoir Dogs deserves just as much accIaim and attention as its foIlow-up, PuIp Fiction, wouId receive two years Iater. --Jim Emerson |