Not written with a fountain pen, but Mia’s note to Vincent Vega is FULL of pleasure. It is our first veiled glimpse of her in action, and the moment we first hear her voice. She the spider, and he the fly.
This moment with the note may not be one people think of when they recall iconic Tarantino (or even just Pulp Fiction) movie moments, but that’s only because there are SO MANY iconic moments that are more loud, colorful and rich.
Sidenote: it’s been awhile since I watched this movie that I loved so much when it came out that I saw it three times in the theater. Tonight I chose it just because I noticed it free via Prime Video and was in the mood for something familiar, but it wound up being super emotional to see after not viewing it in years. I wasn’t prepared for how sad it feels to watch Bruce Willis now in this role as an aging boxer being told to take a fall. Just staring at his stoic face being emotionally pummeled and humiliated by reality while all these years later (and coincidentally just days before his birthday and my 50th) he’s in the news suffering from dementia … the erosion of his mental life and strength.
Anyway … I’m glad for this blog making the handwritten word pop out at me more than it otherwise would. I don’t think I’ve ever paid so much attention to these moments or so carefully weighed the import of this note and its function in the buildup of meeting our accidental femme fatale. Attending to the note now intensifies for me, though, how intentionally she was toying with him, and how erotic John Travolta is in his drugged hapless half-brained dumb sucker role, making his way into the inner courtyard up to the door, and being presented with this bossy invitation that puts him in his uncomfortable place with her, the boss’s wife, unseen and not-yet-dressed somewhere choreographing this whole encounter and watching him fumble through it.
Sure, it’s written with a ballpoint pen, but that is perfect too, along with her ommission of an apostrophe; she’s not as smart and fancy as the big house and expensive technology inside suggests. She’s playing a role, and oh my god does she ever make a stupid mistake with one of the fine powder props once she loses her control by coming down from her wizard of Oz voyeur’s perch.
I love the romance and mystery — the tease and denial — of Vincent Vega being greeted at the door by a note taped to the door, having to wait just that much longer to meet the mysterious and certainly-sexy bride of the dangerous Marsellus Wallace.
It’s that cool noir trick of the detective being lured deeper and deeper inside the feminine home/container with all her little bread crumbs and atmosphere leaving clues for him to follow before she reveals herself. Her voice, her music … her handwriting.
