Performance Profile: Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction (1994)

It's always an exciting task to watch each of the nominated performances in a given year, because in addition to the actual performance(s), their is the actual film they happen to in, that could be just as much a treat, Sometimes the nominated performance can be so much better than the film deserves. Other times the performance falls below the overall greatness of a film (and can bring it down with them). But there are other times when performance and film can be totally and utterly in sync with each other in celluloid heaven, and with a radiant afterglow. This first nominee fits that last category to a T, and though I had (sloppily) profiled her awhile back, I realized she deserved better. And with that I give you my full, fresh thoughts on the unpredictable delights of...

...Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction (1994)

Uma Thurman plays Mia Wallace, the prized, protected wife of a big-time L.A gangster who has left her to be looked out for by one of his top hit men Vincent (John Travolta in a nuanced, perfect performance) while he is out of town on business.

 

Mia's name/character haunts the film long before she finally makes her appearance, and the build up, from the outset, provides her with a mixed air of mystery and intensity, that slightly shakes an unprepared Vincent.

Mia brings them to have dinner at Jack Rabbit Slim's, an eye-popping, expansive, nostalgic burger joint, that also offers steaks and Five Dollar Shakes. Though their arrangement isn't technically "a date", Thurman's Mia begins to casually establish the encounter -- for herself at least -- as something more than an arrangement made for her by her husband. And Thurman's performance establishes this savvy from the get-go.

Their extended conversation quickly begins to cover their present lives, pasts, careers, and subtle philosophies on the world they inhabit. And with each topic Thurman's Mia takes advantage of the chance to scope out Vincent and see what kind of connection the two could possibly share, beyond the banalities of the everyday (criminal) life they both revolve around. Thurman imbues a kind of playfulness to the sequence, and let's us see that Mia enjoys the pleasure of being always one step ahead of the curious, but oblivious Vincent, despite the fact that she genuinely enjoys his company.

 
As the conversation gets more and more into intimate territory, Thurman's Mia becomes more lucid and lively than ever before -- and though even with the aid of Tarantino's crackling dialogue -- Thurman is able to still keep Mia enigmatic. Thurman was simply born to speak QT's words (watch the joy of the Kill Bill's for an extension of mastery on both the part of the actress and director), and here she handles the wordplay with a vivid immediacy, that lead to some excellent line readings.

With all that, the role seems simple enough for Thurman. The actress' gifts of a distinctive screen presence and uncommon charisma -- both of which keep Mia in a sharp, magnetic focus -- are perfectly suited for this strange role, but Uma goes farther past that.

Her accomplishment in the role comes from her understanding that, while QT's words have a juicy surface, the complexity of them exists underneath and in-between them. That the entertaining and brisk banter holds more weight than what we might hear. With this, Thurman is able to subtly illuminate the compelling shades of Mia's interior life -- her sense of humor, curiosity, loneliness, kindness, etc. -- while also ably conveying the fact while Mia is a woman inclined to making bad choices, she has an edge of intelligence and knows what she wants.

And in addition, she currently wants to win the restaurant's Twist Contest trophy. And with that the two get up and shake their groove things in hope of winning.

Back at home, with Vincent of two minds in the bathroom, an ecstatic Mia dances about the house in bliss, until she settles down on the couch and discovers a bag of Vincent's recently purchased heroin (which she believes to be coke).

Helping herself to a long line, Mia quickly begins to suffer the effect of an overdoze, and in a flash her eyes, once bright and gleaming, now only see death.

Once discovering Mia's condition, Travolta's Vincent in a state of incredibly high anxiety, zooms over the home of his drug dealer Lance (Eric Stoltz) with Mia in quick need of help to revive her.

Which he does. With a long needle being plunged into her heart, which instantly awakens Mia who flings around, panicked and disoriented.

This exhilarating sequence is topped off with an offhand, "Something.." (when Mia is asked to say something if she's alright), and Rosanna Arquette's -- "That was fuckin' trippy!" -- perhaps the best tension reliever.

This leads to Mia's final scene (we only briefly see her again) as she returns home shaken and uneasy after one helluva night. She and Vincent solidify their kind of special "bond" through two final beats. Both agree to keep this messy incident a secret from Marsellus, and shake on it. And Mia finally lets Vincent in on what her corny, unfunny joke was, as if softly giving him something in return.

Thurman delicately handles this scene with a haunting, tender sadness; her complexity revealing itself in a whole new way. For her, the past couple of hours have been new to her experience of  self, as she has seen and felt things unlike anything before.



Uma Thurman's work in Pulp Fiction is even greater than what an already juicy, memorable part imagined. In a role that many other actress' might have overplayed into a neurotic mess of contradictions, Thurman's performance grounds in a simple, charismatic humanity. For an actress and film I love, I'll say this -- Uma Thurman's performance is a perfect addition to a perfect film.

The Next Profiling Year Will Be..

1994

The nominees were...

* Rosemary Harris in Tom and Viv *

* Helen Mirren in The Madness of King George *

* Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction *

* Jennifer Tilly in Bullets Over Broadway *

* Dianne Wiest in Bullets Over Broadway *

 

An intersting year that I haven't covered much at all, so it'll be interesting to see how everything turns out with these ladies. What do you think of this year? If I am able to get a few people to send me their "zingers" than I can turn it into a "Smackdown" and get the whole experience; but if not then I will just do each profile and rank them at the end.

 

So if your interested let me know ASAP! And tell others!

 

Coming Soon...

Performance Review of...

Joan Allen in Pleasantville (1998)

 

Performance Review: Claire Trevor in Key Largo (1948)

As a kind of comeback, I have decided to start up with a review I was previously working on but had never gotten around to finishing....oh yeah, and how's everyone been?! It's been a looong time!...A few years back I had first seen this performance/film and knowing the solid popularity it held for film peoples I had known I wanted to discuss it with you. So as a framiliar, interesting way to get back into the game, I give you Oscar's choice for Best Supporting Actress of 1948...

....Claire Trevor in Key Largo (1948)

Claire Trevor plays Gaye Dawn, the loyal mistress/moll to big-time gangster Johnny Rocco (Edward G. Robinson), who gets carried along for the ride as her man and his men tend to some dirty business in the desolate Key Largo.

We're introduced to Gaye as she sits at the bar, drunk, listening intently to the radio to see if a bet she placed on a horse will pull through. Here she meets Frank McCloud (usual Bogart), the "good fella" who happens to be coming in at just the wrong time. Gaye takes a casual interest in Frank and strikes up a conversation about the chances of betting.

Though not before she gets wired up and hollers at the results, thanks to a mix of scotch and fury. Trevor's Gaye seems to appreciate the mild company, kindness, and attention she recieves from a man who treats her as more than a rag doll to be tossed around, someone who sees her as more of an equal (and vice-versa).

In this intro scene, Trevor very subtly hints at a wit and intelligence hidden beneath Gaye's floozy surface -- that she's someone worth something even though she herself may not even see it. Someone who's appealing charm and sophistication finds its way out of the visual drunkeness.

But the conversational camaraderie is cut short when Gaye is ordered to her man and makes a hassle, and is literally shoved and locked into a room by a henchman.

Trevor's Gaye disspears from the narrative for bit as the (lame) conflict of the plot folds out into action (or lack thereof), and is brought back when all of the players are brought together in a room before Johnny himself. What they all have begun to realize is that they are trapped at Key Largo due to a severe storm brewing outside, and are unable to escape Rocco's clutches. Everyone except Gaye, who at first hides beneath denial about the sticky situation as she makes her re-entry into the scene.

Throughout the scene Trevor's Gaye is mostly at the edges of the action, as she's more of a presence than a driving force -- and she is mostly given a few quick reaction shots; which Trevor holds well and amplify's the scene's tension.

   

(Click on pic to enlarge)

Though one individual character beat is established in this scene; that Gaye simply needs a drink to tie her over for a little while, and that Johnny holds the simplest of powers over her cravings and needs. This simple and main beat for the character's arc is textured by how Trevor plays Gaye's need for a drink as almost elemental desperation -- that she needs this drink to go on and without it she wouldn't know how to.

The dimensions of this haunting truth are revealed in the next sequence, wherein Gaye is ever so close to getting her scotch and but is quickly stopped. Though we already know that Gaye is Rocco's punching bag, her further explains Gaye's tragic backstory to the others, something that withers her away even more -- that she was once a beautiful and talented nightclub singer who captivated people with her killer voice and looks, but eventually spirled down into a has-been lush.



Humiliated and crushed, Gaye's crumbling confidence is given one final jab by Rocco; if she gives the group an excellent sampling of one of her classic songs than he will allow her a drink. Now awkwardly standing at the literal and figurative center of the action, Gaye is in a state of panic like she's never known.

For this big scene (that likely won her the Oscar), Trevor conveys with clarity, the depths of Gaye's despair and loneliness as she begins singing "Moanin' Low"; that she may be in the "spotlight" but finally realizing her isolation now more than ever.

Trevor's face and sad eyes display flashes of regret and sadness, her physicality becomes slumped and contracted. The timbre in her voice cracks, yet is controlled and pleasant somehow, allowing us to see Gaye's vocal talent that has only become tainted over the years of being with Johnny.

(Author Phillip Furia's take on the scene refelcts mine well: "Moanin' Low" – "[it's] about a woman who's trapped in a relationship with a very cruel man. And ... you see [Trevor as Gaye] realize that that's exactly her real life situation. [Trevor's performance] slowly break[s] down, and her voice falters and she sings off key." Robinson is dismissive but "Bogart pours her a stiff drink, walks it over ... under gunpoint ... and gives it to her and says 'You deserve this'—it's just a great dramatic scene, [and] it's a wonderful use of a song in a non-musical picture. Trevor won the Academy Award based purely, I think, on that performance").

Alas, and most likely predictably, Johnny refuses her the drink again before Frank kindly hands one over to the crying and visibly shaken Gaye.

What Trevor does within the role is amazing for a character who's place in Key Largo feels shoe-horned solely for the purpose of dramatic intensity. The film doesn't much have any use for her -- except for her showcase scene and to help out the hero at the end; as far as the film is concerned, the movie is Frank's journey, not Gaye's.

But as it turns out, Claire Trevor's performance remains the one bright and interesting spot in this consistently boring and dull movie, as she gives off the only genuine feelings of emotion in the whole production. The cast around her are as stiff as planks of wood (in an even more direct contrast, the other main female character is Lauren Bacall's Nora, who gives the film nothing besides blank stares for the rest of the cast to (figuratively) smack flat against). And yet Trevor accomplishes the task of making Gaye not only interesting, but resonant -- she's the only character who gives off any interority and who has a rich emotional history/life well past the confines of both the role and the film. Giving the movie the closest thing resembling a human heart.

By simply texturing the flat, cliche stock role of a gangster's moll, Claire Trevor's performance as Gaye Dawn ends up feeling like the single person who isn't just another type, but someone who subtly anchor's and transcends a film that would of sunk had she not been around to be the real hero.