We’ve all got movie blind-spots, even those of us that consider ourselves pretty culturally aware.  Follow Evan’s continuing mission to explore cinema past and present, filling in the glaring omissions as he goes.

If Quentin Tarantino has a major flaw as a storyteller, it would be that he writes characters.  (Yeah, I know, that sounds like a ridiculous criticism, but hear me out.)  All of his major characters are obvious fictional constructs: the scripture-spouting hit man who discusses hamburgers and the charm of pigs, the yellow jump-suited ninja assassin back from the dead and looking for revenge, or the brilliant, cold-blooded eccentric Nazi detective – they’re all as bloodless and devoid of any semblance of reality as they are immensely entertaining to watch.  Tarantino always gives them beautiful stylized dialogue, and structures and designs their world in new and innovative ways, but all of that can serve to distance the audience from the characters, putting up a barrier and constantly reminding us that we are watching a Quentin Tarantino movie, freeing us from becoming too attached to these characters and this world.  All of this is exactly why Jackie Brown was such a revelation for me.  It is definitely his least well-known film; it almost belongs on this list, and if I hadn’t been so “late to the party”, it would be.  Tarantino wrote and directed, but Jackie Brown is based on a novel by Elmore Leonard, and that is where its true strength lies.

The title character, played in a famous Tarantino career-revival by the gorgeous Pam Grier, is a down-on-her-luck flight attendant, caught by the FBI smuggling money for a Los Angeles arms dealer (Samuel L. Jackson, great as always).  She’s on her own, with Jackson hoping to kill her before she talks, and the FBI refusing to budge an inch until she rats out Jackson.  She only has the casual acquaintance of another world-weary interloper into the world of crime: a bail bondsman played by Robert Forster.  Leonard is magnificent at drawing a world of criminals and police that feels lived in and real, inhabited by authentic characters.  (For more examples, see: Out of Sight, and the great FX show Justified.)  These are people who simply work in this profession, just as some people work in insurance or construction.  This grounding of the characters, along with superbly nuanced performances by Grier and Forster, serve to temper Tarantino’s flashier indulgences with dialogue and story structure, allowing his stylish quirks to shine instead of getting lost in a sea of pop-culture references and shuffled time-lines.  Tarantino is a great writer, but his strengths are given room to shine when he works as a collaborator.

The film also boasts an impressive cast, which Tarantino uses perfectly.  Robert De Niro (or is it Danny DeVito?) is perfect in a small role as an ex-con, as are Bridget Fonda and Michael Keaton as a pot-head beach bunny and cynical FBI agent, respectively.  (Imagine how cool it would be if those roles had been reversed!)  Jackson has plenty of scenery to chew, but as mentioned above, Grier and Forster steal the show.  Both play sexy without betraying their ages.  Their time on this earth, and the scars they’ve incurred, have made them stronger, and are what attract them to each other.  At its heart, Jackie Brown is a story of two people that the world has taken everything from, people who have shut themselves off and are going through the motions, but upon meeting, wake up from their slumber and take a gander at what they may have been missing.  All that stuff about smuggling cash and double crosses are background noise.