Jackie Brown 

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Admittedly, there's no way Tarantino could have lived up to the hype for this movie; after the epic brilliance of "Pulp Fiction," Quentin would probably have to have given us the Messiah on a pie plate to keep the legions of naysayers at bay. Suffice to say "Jackie Brown" ain't the Messiah.

Based closely on the novel "Rum Punch" by Elmore Leonard, it follows five or six desperate characters as they each vie for the spoils of a half million dollars. Pam Grier is our heroine here, a flight attendant with a checkered criminal record, running money out of Mexico for Samuel L. Jackson. For protection and peace of mind, she finds herself growing more and more attached to Robert Forster, a bail bondsman whose mundane existence is made transcendent by the magical Ms. Grier.

Samuel L. Jackson plays a close cousin to his "Pulp Fiction" character—he's got the same delivery and the same dangerous braggadocio. The film's revelation is the fiercely sexy Ms. Grier, who manages to make Jackie Brown one of the most desired women in film, despite the fact that she's in her forties and spends half the movie in a bulky stewardess uniform.

There's something about Tarantino's work, however, that seems more like a second-hand experience than a visceral one. His movie is about other movies, rather than about itself—he sacrifices Emotion at the altar of Clever. Every once in a while, he makes a directorial decision so arbitrary that it will turn even the most passive viewer into a USC Film Grad, if even for a second. While this outing is more "mature" than his previously delicious massacres, one gets the feeling that he should stick with campiness until he's old enough to direct something honest. He's a smart dude, I have no doubt that he eventually will.

With Robert De Niro, Bridget Fonda and Michael Keaton.

—Ian Williams

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