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Unfortunately Ordell's occasional lackey Beaumont Livingston (Chris Tucker) has just got himself thrown into jail, necessitating a visit to the bail office of Max Cherry (Robert Forster). The sum required is $10,000 yet Ordell pays in cash. Over at LA airport, agents Ray Nicolet (Michael Keaton) and Mark Dargus (Michael Bowen) are stopping stewardess Jackie Brown (Pam Grier). Curiously they know exactly what they're expecting to find, $50,000 in large denomination bills; the bag of cocaine on top is just a fillip. It looks like Jackie is going to do hard time, unless Ordell rides to her rescue also, a knight in shining armour.
In taking on his first adaptation, hotly debated director Quentin Tarantino has chosen wisely. Elmore Leonard's novel Rum Punch lends itself to Tarantino's interpretative style and common concerns, without straying too close to his preferred trademarks. Yet while Leonard provides the framework, Tarantino stamps his touch on the film, engraving distinctive themes. Hence Jackie Brown glows with blaxploitation, funky musical avenues and LA locations; the things that Tarantino loves. Any similarities to Pulp Fiction and Reservoir Dogs are, however, superficial; this is an altogether more mature and subtle piece of work. Subdued are the smart, hip and knowing word games, replaced by worn and used dialogue, conversation that flies straight and true in context.
Considering more widely, just how many films dare to dance with middle-aged lead roles? Does the movie-going demographic support such a brave decision? Tarantino, in both creating and treating with decency his main characters, seems not to care. As a result he's rewarded with a brace of excellent, honest performances from the carefully picked cast. Central to Jackie Brown, Grier smoulders with two-sided sex appeal; from one angle she's vulnerable and needy, look again and she's self-confident in her femininity. Where the film kicks is in the affection that grows between Grier and Forster, both walking wounded ready to leave the present behind. There's a wonderful symmetry here, a mutual chemistry; these two have moved beyond youthful bullshit. Suffice to say, Forster is superb, exceptional in his delivery and mastery of nuance.
It would be, ah, somewhat criminal to ignore the single-minded force of his own construction that is Jackson though. His remarkable lock on the amoral, supremely pragmatic, self-sufficient killer type of character continues for one simple reason; Jackson has an air of impending and uncompromising violence that perfectly suits this role. De Niro and Fonda are also reasonable, though both are generally acting as if blasted out of their mind, meaning that they don't have to do very much. Still, their drug-enhanced apathy convinces. On the side of the law, Keaton and Bowen wander erratically. Sometimes the pair blend menace with bright desire, but mostly they're flat, rigid. Is this because Tarantino can only write for the realm of crime, breathing life into people on the take? It's a difficult call to make.
The one sure fact is that Jackie Brown could not have been predicted from Pulp Fiction. Here Tarantino impresses as being a filmmaker who loves to make film, rather than someone who directs because they can, yet one shorn of geeky self-knowledge. Taking his sweet time over character exposition, Tarantino lets the plot become strong, blossoming into complexity and uncertainty at just the right moment. Without resorting to pop quotes, the story slips down blind alleys, offering differing perspectives on the same event. Stylish and blackly humorous in scope, Jackie Brown still winds up making perfect sense. Guillermo Navarro's smooth, gliding, on-location photography helps set the tone but it's the script that holds your attention.
Yes, Jackie Brown is perhaps a little too long, though not by much; the cast and story prove more than able to support Tarantino's laxity. After a while you really feel for Jackie's dilemma, the seeming impossibility of escape, and that makes the film. Few would have previously imagined Tarantino capable of thoughtful, implicit action. How wrong the naysayers were.
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