By Eric M. Blake @hardboiledfilms
“Is White Guilt supposed to make me forget that I’m running a business…?”
If you’ve read our review of Inglorious Basterds, you’ve already heard my general defense of Quentin Tarantino (perhaps the greatest filmmaker working today). Now, we turn to Jackie Brown, the film where he first tackled race relations head-on. And what better way to do so than to throw back to a certain film “movement” that, by 1997, was all but shunned except in parody—ironically because of the very self-righteous do-gooders who make things all about race?
But I’m getting a little ahead of myself. More on that later.
Spoiler alert for those who want to be surprised at just how the caper goes down.
WHY IT’S A CONSERVATIVE FILM:
For starters, we’ve got to take a hard look at what exactly Quentin Tarantino’s stances are on “race issues”—particularly in how black Americans relate to various aspects of society. At first, Jackie Brown may seem to fit the typical Hollywood narrative as the titular black heroine juggles tensions with a black criminal arms dealer and the pressure being put on her by a couple of white cops.
White Cops—As Good Guys:
Technically, Michael Keaton’s Ray Nicolette is with the ATF Bureau, but I’m pretty sure that still counts as a “cop”—or at least, a representative of The Man. And as Quentin noted, a dramatic consequence of changing the race of Jackie (who was white in the original Elmore Leonard novel) to black means there’s a sudden racial charge to the situation—the kind of thing the whole Black Lives Matter movement presumes to point to as “typical” of “institutional racism.” Certainly, the tension isn’t lost on Jackie, who refuses to say a word to Nicolette until she can assess her options.
But once she does, something changes. She enlists Nicolette in her scheme to come out on top—to clear herself with the law and, at the same time, ensure a comfortable living for the rest of her life. And while, to be sure, she cons nearly all the major characters, including Nicolette, still, she’s developed a good dynamic with him—camaraderie, in fact. And in the end, she helps him get exactly what he’s looking for: Justice brought down on a major criminal.
Because the white cops, as it turns out, are not the bad guys in this film. The villains here include white and black folks alike. And Jackie doesn’t lose sight of that.
Neither does Quentin.
Ordell Robbie, Race Hustler:
Despite Ordell—black-market runner and main antagonist of the film—being black, it’s established in Leonard’s novel that he is friends with a Klansman since they share support for segregation of the races. Of course, Ordell isn’t consistent, as evidenced by his token white girlfriend, Melanie. At any rate, though the Klan scenario isn’t used in the movie, Ordell still clearly thinks about life in terms of race. In addition to his cavalier use of the N-word, he makes statements to his underlings, Louis and Beaumont, about how he can judge blacks, whites, and Asians as blacks, whites, and Asians.
He softly taunts bail bondsman Max about the latter’s black employee Winston, even calling Winston a “Mandingo”—referring to the cinematic trope of pre-Civil War Southern slave owners holding gladiatorial wrestling matches.
Further, Ordell repeatedly invokes race in his excuse-making. When explaining to Max why he doesn’t post bail for “employees” himself, he says,
“Come on, man, you know how they do. Black man show up with ten-thousand cash, first thing they wanna know is where I got it.”
Of course, Max doesn’t buy the race-hustling for a minute, subtly—and sometimes not so subtly—calling him out on it. Ordell initially suggests Beaumont’s high bail might be due to “prejudice against brothers from down South,” but after a call, Max pointedly announces that it’s due to a prior arrest and probation. Later, when Ordell tries to guilt him about Jackie and premiums, Max isn’t moved—leading right to the quote above.
Meanwhile, Ordell invokes the talking point about black incarceration rates to reassure Beaumont (followed up by invoking Johnny Cochrane’s defense of OJ Simpson). Of course, that’s just a con to get Beaumont isolated.
Finally, he tries to play the race card (and “evil-white-cop” card) to “pacify” Jackie. Her response? (Warning: Language—it is a Tarantino film)
Race hustlers are dirty liars and thugs—in the real world and in Tarantino’s.
A Thing About Guns:
A brief line early in the film might seem to be a shot against gun manufacturers, as Ordell says to Louis:
“They advertise this TEC-9 as ‘The most popular gun in American crime’—can you believe that s—t? It actually says that in the little booklet that comes with it: ‘The most popular gun in American crime’—like they’re proud of that s—t!”
However, there are a few things to keep in mind.
First, Melanie later notes that Ordell’s “facts” are just meaningless repetition of “s—t he overheard”—false confidence, presumably an important part of his pitches to customers. Second, he goes on to talk about how the gun brands used in movies affect which brands are popular among his clientele, and Quentin famously denounces the notion that violence on film influences violence in real life. Considering Ordell’s race-hustling throughout the film, it’s just more evidence that he’s rather full of it.
Meanwhile, Jackie makes it a point to “borrow” Max’s gun in anticipation of Ordell coming over to settle things. When Max asks the next morning if she had to use it, Jackie shrugs, “I felt a lot safer having it.” Max even offers to let her keep it for a while. But she’s got one, now—lifted off of Ordell.
The Value Of Individual Initiative:
Jackie Brown is caught between a rock and a hard place. On the one hand, if she cooperates with the cops, Ordell will come after her, and even if she’s protected, there’s no guarantee she’ll get off scot-free. She’s done that kind of thing before and still got enough of a black mark to damage her career, such that she’s just making ends meet as it is.
On the other hand, if she doesn’t talk, it means jail time and, again, damage to her career.
All she has to get herself out of this is her wits. And she’d better use them.
Well, use them she does—cleverly managing to work with both Ordell and Nicolette. Necessity is the mother of invention, and she’s about to invent the heist of a lifetime—half a million dollars (split with Max, the one person she can trust with the whole story) and exoneration from the law. If this works, she’ll be set for life.
All that’s left is to make sure it works.
For Bonus Points:
As I noted, Max’s sidekick is a black man named Winston—and for the few times we see him, they’re shown to have a great camaraderie. Winston may be an employee, but theirs is a relationship of equals.
As for Max, in the final scene, he notes, “I’m 56 years old. I can’t blame anybody for anything I do.”
WHY IT’S A GREAT FILM:
Jackie Brown may or may not be Quentin Tarantino’s greatest film. Certainly, Pulp Fiction will always be the film he’s most remembered for—and it’s definitely my favorite. But Roger Ebert held the greatest film ever made to be Citizen Kane (shocker), while his favorite film was Casablanca. Maybe that’s the situation here. I don’t know.
All I know is Jackie Brown is certainly Tarantino’s richest film. Pulp Fiction’s a giant cheeseburger meal—perhaps, say, a Royale With Cheese. You could eat one relatively often and be satisfied every time. Assuming, of course, you like burgers.
Jackie Brown, meanwhile, is a fine steak dinner—the meal you save for special occasions, so you can always savor it as something special. You don’t want to over-watch it, lest it lose that “specialness.”
It’s also Tarantino’s most mature film. When I say “mature,” I don’t mean in the “rating” sense of the term. It’s actually arguably his tamest—no wild and crazy blood splatters, and so forth. While we’re at it, there are no deliberately cartoonish effects either—no real winking at the camera. Even the classic Tarantino “non-linear” elements are kept to a minimum. It’s his most traditionally structured film, albeit done “his way.”
What makes it so rich? Well, while in all his films, “It’s about the character first,” nowhere is that more true than in Jackie Brown. This is very much a “hangout movie” in the vein of Rio Bravo, especially for Jackie and Max, who take time to reflect on their lives and what they have to show for them.
Amid all the pathos, of course, there is the right touch of comedy—especially when Jackie, Nicolette, and another cop correct each other on the colors of a shopping mall bag.
It wouldn’t be a Quentin movie otherwise.
Experiments With Suspense:
Around this point in Tarantino’s career, a critic noted that the man was far too concerned with the detail of the moment to do suspense particularly well. Quentin accepted the critique as fair enough.
Whether it was fair or not (there are actually moments of great tension in Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction—albeit just moments), we see in this film instances that appear to be attempts to improve his relationship with suspense. Two sequences in particular:
First, the film has already established Ordell’s willingness to knock off employees who might have compromised his operations. And now, he’s heading over to Jackie’s place and putting on his gloves (as he had before dealing with Beaumont). As they talk, Jackie keeps turning on the lights (clearly anticipating what’s to come), and Ordell keeps working his way to those lights and turning them off as he asks her some very pointed questions. And then, lights off, he gets close to her—and there’s a Brian-De-Palma-esque split-screen, showing Max driving to his office amid Ordell’s interrogation of Jackie.
And then, we see Max open his glove box and discover that the gun we’ve seen there is gone.
A click and the Jackie/Ordell half of the screen takes over.
Second, as the movie nears its end, and Ordell makes his move for revenge, the picture intercuts between him forcing Max at gunpoint to bring him to Jackie and Jackie in Max’s office, looking quite alone, bracing herself, and preparing her aim.
It’s not quite on the level of the opening of Inglourious, but it certainly does the job.
Pam Grier As Jackie Brown:
Quentin has a major knack for giving former stars a shot at a renaissance. Most famously, he “brought back” John Travolta with Pulp Fiction. And here he did the same for two stars of old.
Pam Grier was one of the major superstars of the 1970s and the main heroine of the Blaxploitation era. As Quentin often notes, for the first time, we saw a female action star—a “strong female character,” as he said—who didn’t sacrifice her femininity in order to get there. She embraced her womanhood, using it as a strength, and thus, when we saw her fighting the bad guys and saving the day, we accepted it as “for real” and cheered her on. Pam, essentially, was the Angelina Jolie of her day.
And then, after the untimely demise of Blaxploitation, she was pretty much forgotten about. Until Jackie Brown.
Here, Quentin gave her a meaty role to acknowledge that she may not be young enough to convincingly play an action heroine, but she’s as powerful a presence as ever—lovely, confident, and strong. And Jackie’s a survivor—staying afloat by keeping her wits about her, facing the day with a cool head, a quiet dignity, and a wry sense of humor. Not that it keeps her from fear, as we see when she tenses up upon first encountering Max, wondering if he’s been sent to kill her.
Pam also beautifully explodes with authoritative rage as Jackie turns the tables on Ordell the first time, then masterfully regaining her cool as she gets him sitting down.
With Max, we see her opening up—vulnerable, admitting her fears of having to start over, especially at this late hour. And from that vulnerability comes her motivation to do whatever it takes.
Robert Forster As Max Cherry:
The other star whose career Quentin revived with this film is Robert Forster. Here, he plays bail bondsman Max Cherry as the sort of fellow who, in another life, could’ve been an old-time hard-boiled private eye. But he’s older now—like Jackie—and that brings a seen-it-all disenchantment to this old-school tough guy. He’s go-along to get-along. For example, while he pretty quickly deduces Ordell’s criminality to the man’s face, he verbally shrugs it off with a “more power to you.” He doesn’t have a place for idealism, anyway. Not in his line of work.
That changes when this private eye finds his own “dangerous dame”—Jackie. Not quite love at first sight (unless that’s how you interpret the “Natural High” sequence), but something about her moves him to form an emotional connection. And that motivates him to maybe go for something more than his cynical sort of job and help out Jackie in her plan.
In the lines of Forster’s face and the set of his eyes, we see Max Cherry’s world-weariness, the detached dark amusement at the world around him, but also the hidden sweet side, the heart that goes out to Jackie.
Samuel L. Jackson As Ordell Robbie:
It’s quite interesting how, after the Jackie-centric opening credits, the heroine disappears for much of the film’s first act, not coming back until after a 25-minute stretch focusing on Ordell and his criminal operation. Indeed, until Jackie’s re-introduced, one could almost swear that Ordell is the main character.
No matter. Ordell commands the screen, to the surprise of no one. After all, look who’s playing him!
At any rate, we see a full arc for the man. He starts out a “cool,” “chill” sorta brother—stylish, swaggering, and likable. And yet, we soon come to see he’s a truly dangerous man—willing to do whatever it takes to get ahead and “go all the way.” And so, throughout the film, we’re both charmed by Ordell and scared of him, wondering whether he’ll catch on to Jackie and kill her.
Once Jackie’s heist succeeds, Ordell’s rage kicks in, the charm degrades, and the scariness comes out in full force. Symbolically, his long hair—tied back in a ponytail for most of the film—is out and about, making him resemble a savage beast on the prowl, ready for the kill.
As a side note, Roger Ebert noted that one of his favorite moments in the film was when Ordell realized he’d been had. He has Louis pull the truck over, and he thinks, mulling over what just happened in silence. Most films don’t allow a character that kind of pause in that kind of moment. This one does, and it underlines how intelligent Ordell really is despite having been played for a sap.
The Rest Of The Cast:
Robert De Niro has a seemingly “small” role for an actor like him—Louis, a washed-out ex-con who’s pretty lethargic. He doesn’t have much of a presence. So why was De Niro cast for this part?
Well, as any Method actor of De Niro’s caliber knows well, it’s the little things. The moments of Loui, once a successful criminal and partner to Ordell, lumbering around drained of his former motivation and refusing to see it. And when he finally gets his energy back—ironically over his frustrations with Melanie—it’s a joy to behold for De Niro fans. His ranting and arguing with Ordell remind one of his Scorsese roles.
Speaking of Melanie, Bridget Fonda is also excellent as the hopelessly petty and shallow “beach bunny,” who, on the one hand, just wants to lounge around and act out but, on the other, will do whatever she can to control her little world and anyone who stumbles into it.
Michael Keaton brings his classic “possibly shady, possibly charming” demeanor as Ray Nicolette. It’s a charm that fits a slick con artist or a playful yet awkward Bruce Wayne. And that’s just the point—is he Jackie’s friend or enemy? We see him through Jackie’s eyes and realize, along with her, that he’s on the straight and narrow after all.
Finally, Chris Tucker takes a hilarious turn as Beaumont. Though it’s technically a glorified cameo, he milks the heck out of it, keeping up with Jackson as only Chris Tucker can. His ranting about why he will not climb into that dirty-(bleep) trunk is absolutely classic—and precious, in a good way. The Chris Tucker way.
It’s enough to make one forget his worse-than-unnecessary appearance in The Fifth Element.
Almost.
The Opening:
As the Miramax logo scrolls across the screen, Bobby Womack’s “Across 100th Street” kicks in, pulling us into the mood. Amid the opening credits—and our first visual introduction to Pam Grier’s Jackie Brown—we hear Womack sing:
I was the third brother of five,
Doing whatever I had to do to survive.
I’m not saying what I did was all right.
Trying to break out of the ghetto is a day-to-day fight.
His singing perfectly underlines Jackie’s struggles, like a Greek Chorus commenting on the action.
As for Jackie, she’s introduced with an initial aura of greatness—confident, cool, walking down the airport in her flight attendant’s uniform with a small smile, as if she rules her world. And why not? She is, after all, the magnificent Pam Grier.
But then, suddenly, we see her get a little tense, a bit fidgety, and then she breaks into a jog and finally a mad dash as she rushes to her spot, ushering passengers onto the flight.
And so, before a single word is spoken, we already feel as though we know Jackie—her potential, her sense of dignity and poise, and the hint of tragedy, as this Great woman is reduced to rushing to a “small” job that should be, by all accounts, beneath her.
A golden example of what great cinema can do.
The Soundtrack:
Aside from his legendary dialogue and use of non-linear plotting, one of the things Quentin is most known for is his use of pre-established songs and music. Most memorably, there’s that scene in Reservoir Dogs with Steelers Wheel’s “Stuck In The Middle With You.” My personal favorite is the montage in Pulp Fiction set to The Centurions’ “Bullwinkle Part II” (the sequence that inspired me to get into filmmaking).
Here, following “Across 110th Street” (reprised in the final scene to underline Jackie’s triumph), there’s The Delfonics’ “Didn’t I (Blow Your Mind This Time),” serving as the motif for Max’s relationship with Jackie, and Randy Crawford’s “Street Life,” filling our ears as Jackie and Max drive up to the mall, the climax at last underway. If a film’s soundtrack truly is the direct descendant of the Greek Chorus, Tarantino knows it full well and channels it to full effect.
There’s also The Meters’ “Cissy Strut,” powering the Ordell-centric first act (with a softer piece for the second act and a funky and energetic track for the third); Brothers Johnson’s “Strawberry Letter 23” playing on Ordell’s car speakers as he prepares to “let go” of Beaumont; the Coffy theme as Jackie carries out her part of the heist, and so on.
Incidentally, Quentin has noted that a duel interpretation has long arisen over the scene where Jackie walks out of prison, and Max first sees her amid the soundtrack playing the soft and mellow soul hit, Bloodstone’s “Natural High.” Is it “love at first sight” for Max? Or an underlining of audience sympathy for the magnificent Pam Grier, nearly broken as she walks out of prison, her life seemingly in shambles? As Quentin put it, whichever one it is pretty much depends on you. White audiences tend to go with the former; black audiences with the latter.
A Three-Way Caper:
As most cinephiles know, Tarantino’s a bit notorious when it comes to non-linear plots. Here, it’s milder than usual—mainly limited to quick little “explanation” flashbacks that don’t really stick out. We’re used to that kind of thing in “traditional” movies.
The big heist in the climax has it in full force, however—though, to be fair, it was like that in the original novel, too. Still, we run through the heist three times—each time from a different perspective (Jackie’s, then Louis’s and Melanie’s, then Max’s), each time revealing a little more until finally all is revealed.
Why did Jackie leave the bag with the money in the dressing room?
Well, you didn’t really think Max was just around for emotional support, did you?
I Gave My Heart And Soul:
To all those who can’t accept that Quentin Tarantino is capable of putting “heart/soul” in his movies, I point to that wonderful sequence between Jackie and Max as they connect over how they ain’t getting any younger.
“Ain’t nothing wrong with that.”
As time goes on, they connect more and more, with Max admitting he’s decided to retire and his reasons why. And it just might develop into something called love. (Meaningfully, during the heist, he refers to his “wife,” while talking to the store clerk).
Meanwhile, we see Louis, while trying to “get back in the game” after being released from prison, also trying to form some kind of emotional connections of his own—whether he wants to admit it or not. He clearly thinks he’s forming one with Melanie and doesn’t realize until too late that she’s just as shallow as she lets on. In the meantime, his refusal to acknowledge that he’s not as quick as he used to be leads to an ultimate clash with Ordell, who bemoans how Louis “used to be beautiful!”
Max and Jackie, on the other hand, are honest about themselves, and this leads to a truly meaningful dynamic between the two. Alas, Max has had enough adventure for now, so after one last kiss, they go their separate ways in the end.
For now, at least.
By The Way…
During the opening credits, a portly man briefly follows Jackie after she passes through the metal detectors. He may or may not be Danny DeVito, who served as one of the producers of the film. Why he’s never had a significant on-camera role in a Tarantino film, I couldn’t tell you.
The man being interviewed on television when Ordell heads to Beaumont’s place is acting legend Tony Curtis. Couldn’t tell you exactly where the clip’s from, though. Well, nobody’s perfect.
One of the movies we see Melanie watching is Dirty Mary Crazy Larry, starring Bridget Fonda’s father, Peter Fonda of Easy Rider fame—son of Henry and brother of Jane. Yeah, it’s a big family, isn’t it?
Nicolette’s wisecracks about “those people in Customs” sound quite “hilarious in hindsight,” if you remember that Obama-era stuff about the TSA getting quite, um, notorious.
Speaking of Nicolette, Michael Keaton reprised his role as the agent in Steven Soderbergh’s Out Of Sight, which is also based on an Elmore Leonard novel. It was Quentin who convinced Miramax to “share” the rights to the character and Keaton playing him.
Sid Haig, who cameos as a judge, co-starred with Pam Grier enough that, in the first take, Pam burst out laughing in recognition! Also, Denise Crosby—Tasha Yar to Star Trek: The Next Generation fans—plays Jackie’s lawyer.
Quentin Tarantino’s cameo in this film is the voice of Jackie’s answering machine.
Take a look at the Casting Director’s name in the opening credits for a quick chuckle. Pure coincidence.
Buy the movie here. And stay Cultured, my friends.
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