Too Much of a Good Thing

I’m trying to determine what the perfect amount of times to watch a movie is. Some movies have to be digested, see, so one or two viewings isn’t enough. But even your favorite movies, after the seventh or eighth or tenth viewing, start coming up short. Don’t they? You start noticing the cracks. And once something annoys you, you can never not see it again.

I got to that point with Pulp Fiction earlier this week. And the thing I noticed is so minor, so unbelievably nitpick-y that I feel like a cork-sniffing pedant for even pointing it out. But, well, here it is.

Vince and Jules are riding in the car discussing… not much of anything. Vince turns around to get their backseat companion Marvin’s opinion on the subject, and accidentally blows his head off. The boys pull into a friend’s house in a nice neighborhood and call in a specialist to help them deal with the situation. During the encounter Vince (whose caused the whole mess) is combative with the specialist whereas Jules is calm and cooperative. In the end, the three men divvy up their two cars: the specialist drives the “tainted” car, and gives his own sweet ride over to Vince.

Wait, what?

This specialist, who has approached everything with a sense of logic and practicality up to this point, hands his car over to the less composed and less helpful of the two gangsters. He should have given the keys to Jules, not Vince! What is wrong with this guy!?

“The Bonnie Situation”, as this act is called, has always been one of my favorite parts of this movie. Now it’s ruined forever. Forever. All because The Wolf gave Vince Vega his car for no reason.

Now I’m terrified to ever watch any of my favorite movies ever again. What am I going to notice next? Batman wearing clown shoes? It’s brutal.

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