A sprawling, discursive fresco: three stories bookended by a prologue and epilogue. In the first story, a mobster (travolta) is charged with searching after the irresponsible wife (thurman) of his vengeful boss. Inside the second, a washed-up boxer (willis) tries to trick the mob by way of failing to throw a combat. And inside the third, hitmen (travolta and jackson) perform a job, most effective to name on the services of a 'purifier' (keitel) while it receives messier than deliberate.
It is the way tarantino adorns and, finally, interlinks those vintage chestnuts that makes the movie alternately exhilarating and frustrating. There is plenty of sharp, sassy, profane communicate, and there are masses of acute, humorous references to popular culture, even though the communicate on occasion delays the movement, and the references occasionally appear self-consciously arch. And there are, too, the sudden lurches between humour and violence - shocking, however without moral depth. What author/director tarantino lacks, as yet, is the adulthood to make investments his paintings with something that would initiate a heartfelt emotional reaction to his characters. Very unique, none the less.