It’s not an easy thing to discuss the story of Pulp Fiction because the story is not conventional in any way, shape or form. There is some semblance of a structure, but it sure as hell isn’t in three acts. Though the movie does build to a very effective climax, the path to it is not at all linear. Even when the movie’s pieces are put together in order, there doesn’t seem to be a beginning or an end to the overall narrative and we don’t get a protagonist to follow from one straight through to the other.

This movie does not have much in the way of coherent structure, yet the story itself is very coherent. Why? The characters. This film is full of characters who only get one scene or a kind of mini-arc within one of the movie’s “chapters,” but every single one makes a distinct and immediate impression because of two reasons.

The first is Quentin Tarantino. This guy can do dialogue like precious others in the business. It’s not an exaggeration to say that every spoken line in this movie is memorable, quotable or both. Every time the characters talk — or even when they’re not talking! — there’s usually some level of subtext that makes the exchange that much richer. When Vincent and Jules ramble about foot massages, they’re simultaneously discussing their views on sex. When Mia finally breaks down and tells her old, lame joke, it’s a sign of gratitude and trust toward Vincent. When Yolanda and Ringo are talking about robberies at the start of the film, it’s like their long histories of crime and dumb, thrill-seeking attitudes are being opened to us.

There’s also Tarantino’s signature use of pop culture references. For example, there’s a very prominent scene in a theme restaurant that looks like it was stitched together from various nostalgic memories of the ’50s, which makes the setting instantly and universally understandable. We also get several scenes in which the characters absorb and discuss popular culture, just as we all do every day, which does a lot to make them relatable.

Even better is when Tarantino uses dialogue to create tension. The scene where Vincent and Jules confront a few dumb college-age kids is a masterful example of this. Jules and Vincent start out making small talk, gradually growing more threatening. The scene beautifully crescendos in tension and Sam Jackson craziness until the inevitable happens and the victim gets ventilated. The film’s climax is a direct contrast to this, as the scene isn’t about what we know will happen, but about a totally uncertain outcome. Will Jules get killed? Will Ringo die? Both? Neither? The outcome is completely unknown, drawn out and potentially affected by every word spoken. Then there’s the scene in which Vincent and Lance are freaking out because Mia’s dying of an OD on their watch and they’re both panicking too much to do anything about it. These two constantly yell at each other as precious seconds tick by, yet the scene works. All of these scenarios work because the characters are instantly sympathetic, which leads the audience to sit through all the dialogue to see what happens.

Of course, Tarantino shouldn’t take all the credit. He has a staggering ability to gather top-notch casts in his movies, and this was certainly no exception. First off, there’s John Travolta. What happened to this guy? Once upon a time, the man could act. He could sing, he could dance, he could tell a joke. It saddens and astounds me that in just six years, Travolta could go from his sublime performance in Pulp Fiction to the hammy abomination of Battlefield Earth. He was last seen chewing scenery in a critical and box office flop called From Paris with Love and I don’t see any upcoming projects on his IMDB or Wikipedia pages. More than anything else, watching his performance as Vincent Vega reminded me of what a great talent we’ve lost.

Then we have Sam Jackson, playing Jules Winnfield. At one point, Jules describes himself as a “mushroom-cloud-layin’ motherfucker” in regards to how angry he is during a particular scene. I’d go so far as to say he’s like that through the whole damn movie. Jules is one legitimately insane guy and in a truly unpredictable way. It’s hard to tell if his craziness is brought on by religious faith, homicidal rage or some combination of the two. It’s even harder to tell just when and how he’s going to blow, which makes the climax that much more tense.

These two characters work for Marsellus Wallace, played by Ving Rhames. Marsellus is mostly an offscreen presence — we don’t even see his face until well after the halfway point — constantly establishing him as one tough and scary guy. This makes his eventual fate at the hands of two rednecks all the more shocking.

Bruce Willis plays a guy who makes some dumb choices (stopping to make Pop Tarts? Seriously?), but is nonetheless sympathetic. It helps that Butch has a solid performance from Willis, a great love interest with tons of chemistry between them and Christopher Walken to establish his motivation. Walken himself only gets one scene to set up some deceptively important backstory, but damned if he doesn’t knock it out of the park.

Uma Thurman is enigmatic, fun, beautiful and very endearing. Harvey Keitel does a polite-yet-threatening wiseass like nobody else. Tarantino himself gives a very good comedic performance in a supporting role. Eric Stoltz made me completely forget that I was watching Daniel Graystone dealing heroin and his timing with Travolta in the aforementioned OD scene was amazing. I could go on and on.

However, as I thought about this movie’s strengths, I was suddenly reminded of another movie. One that also had an amazing grasp of dialogue as a means to build tension and develop wonderful characters. A movie with a uniformly wonderful cast and expertly-used pop culture references. Best of all, it had a much more coherent storyline with something that approximated linear storytelling with a three-act structure.

I am referring, of course, to Inglourious Basterds.

Movie references and our connection as a species to pop culture were both much better-utilized in Basterds, serving not only as conversational ice-breakers but as integral parts of the plot. Jules was pretty good at talking down a couple of would-be robbers at gunpoint, but Hans Landa was an uncanny master at verbal manipulation while armed with only his rapier wit. Perhaps most importantly, dialogue was superbly used to raise tension during the opening “Jew-hunting” scene as well as the bar scene, either one of which could be on par with or superior to the previously mentioned scenes in Pulp Fiction.

I’ve no doubt in my mind that if Pulp Fiction is where Tarantino defined his style, then Inglourious Basterds is where he perfected it. The latter movie is the better one in every possible way, but that doesn’t mean that the former isn’t worth a look.

If you have any interest at all in screenwriting, direction or film-making, then Pulp Fiction should be considered mandatory viewing. If you like intellectual movies or outstanding dialogue brought to life by superlative acting, this movie is for you. Ditto for those ignorant or on the fence about Tarantino. But if his films aren’t exactly your cup of tea, this won’t be the movie to change your mind.