30 years of "Pulp Fiction" – what is the hidden meaning behind the dance of John Travolta and Uma Thurman?

Tarantino is a postmodernist. The guy worked in a video rental store and began making films after immersing himself in American, European, and Asian cinema. He borrowed techniques from outstanding directors. For instance, the six stories unfold in a non-chronological order—much like the French classics of Jean-Luc Godard and François Truffaut. The range of genres that Tarantino employs is extremely broad: from westerns to torture porn. It seemed that such a mixed bag would lead to the film falling apart. But what holds it all together?

Tarantino's Features

• First, the virtuoso dialogues that seem to be "about nothing": about food, drinks, pop culture. These dialogues, unlike the narrative lives of the characters, feel authentic. Quentin himself loves to analyze the subjects of these conversations. When he places these thoughts in the mouths of gangsters or boxers, the words take on special significance, losing their "common" origins. A "little truth" lends weight to the "big": a conversation among criminals about different interpretations of hamburger names in the U.S. and Paris becomes significant when it occurs just before a life-threatening situation or under the threat of a gun. This approach draws the audience closer to the criminal heroes on screen—after all, in such mundane matters, everyone intersects. Other directors later adopted this technique in their films, such as Guy Ritchie in "Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels" (1998) or Martin McDonagh in "In Bruges" (2008).
• Secondly, Tarantino skillfully creates intrigue: events rapidly follow one another. For example, in his first film "Reservoir Dogs," the criminals couldn't figure out who among them was the police agent—the suspicion shifted from one person to another every minute.
• Thirdly, there is an abundance of weapons in Quentin Tarantino's films—he has a close relationship with death: it constantly adds tension and sharpness even in unexpected moments, like Vincent's accidental shot to his partner's head in the car. Tarantino's Chekhov's gun is not just taken off the wall; it is fired continuously.
• Fourthly, and perhaps most importantly, having woven a complex web of plot lines, Tarantino, even with his scattered film quotes, creates convincing metamorphoses with the characters on screen—this leaves a strong impression.
• And fifthly, surprisingly, Tarantino's authorial plot ensures that each character gets what they deserve, as if by the hand of fate.

At the beginning of the film, a pair of petty thieves, Ringo (Tim Roth) and Yolanda (Amanda Plummer), decide to "shake up" the café patrons over a cup of coffee at a roadside diner. Resolute, they pull out their guns: this is where the opening credits begin—the intrigue has started. Next, two gangsters, Vincent Vega (John Travolta) and Jules Winnfield (Samuel L. Jackson), appear. But let's not recount the plot—everyone knows it. Let's move directly to the dance to answer why this is a key episode of the film.

The Twist

The novella about Vincent Vega and the mob boss's wife, Mia (Uma Thurman), begins with Vincent picking up his boss's wife. She is an unsuccessful actress (having appeared in a pilot for a show that was ultimately rejected), who, out of desperation, married a mobster, which she reveals at the restaurant. Vincent is an extremely inept hitman. We understand this by analyzing his actions: he is aggressive, impulsive, dim-witted, and makes a ton of mistakes: he accidentally kills his partner in the car; he disrespects boxer Butch, provoking a future conflict between the boxer and the mob; he foolishly meets his end in the bathroom while reading a comic book because he left his gun in a safe house on the stove. Even the heroin he bought wasn’t in "capsules," which led Mia to overdose, thinking it was cocaine. On the positive side, he did save Mia by injecting adrenaline into her heart. However, it’s clear that if the boss's wife had died, Vincent wouldn't have fared well either.

During the twist contest at the restaurant, while dancing (by the way, "twist" in cinematic language means an unexpected turn)—Vincent and Mia suddenly find themselves. Why?

Mia dances professionally, even if she never became a film star. And Vega, as it turns out, is an excellent dancer. Of course, this is true for John Travolta himself—the star of the musicals "Saturday Night Fever" (1977) and "Grease" (1978). He even walks gracefully while engaging in the action.

They finally engage in what they excel at, receiving well-deserved applause from the audience, and bring home a trophy for their performance. But, as the hit song by Chuck Berry, under which they danced, goes, You Never Can Tell: Mia soon almost dies from an overdose, and Vincent Vega will meet his demise. However, Vincent could have survived if he had paid attention to the signs of fate.

Lessons of Fate

The thieves Yolanda and Ringo have become brazen but have run into serious criminals and barely escaped from the confrontation alive. This shake-up will give them a chance to assess the risks of such a lifestyle. Are they suited for this?

The gangster Jules, perceiving the near-miss of bullets as a divine miracle, leaves the criminal world after this sign of fate—for a much brighter future than he had.

Jules asked the guys who took the briefcase of money from his boss: "Marcellus Wallace is a bitch? Did you want to get him? No, he owns everyone here." But the pervert Zed raped the mafia boss, the one who "owned everyone." However, fate, in the form of Butch, gives the mobster a chance to execute the rapist.

Boxer Butch (Bruce Willis), having accomplished his feats and proven that he is a true fighter, speeds away on a motorcycle from the slain pervert Zed with a prize, a beautiful woman, and his father's watch on his wrist. The mafia boss promised to forget him. Butch is the biggest winner in the film.

Vincent Vega, who is deaf and blind to the signs of fate (though he provided a brilliant definition of a divine miracle in the café: "When the impossible becomes possible") meets a foolish end because he engages in a task for which he is ill-suited.

Quentin leaves Mia's fate in question: the choice is hers. But the trophy at home for their dance might remind her that it’s time to return to her acting career.

You might laugh, but who will say after this that Tarantino isn't a moralist director? The formula of "Pulp Fiction": active heroes—tested by fate, which sends signs—each according to their merits.