The best and worst "Pulp Fiction" knockoffs

Screenwriter Scott Rosenberg’s ‘90s movies share a lot in common with Tarantino’s early work: They’re laden with quirky characters who spout off pop cultural references with gleeful abandon. “Things to Do in Denver When You’re Dead," which is named after a Warren Zevon song, is a meta caper film with a twist: The protagonist (Andy Garcia) and his cohorts (William Forsythe, Christopher Lloyd, Bill Nunn and Treat Williams) botch the job early on and spend the rest of the movie waiting to get offed by Mr. Shhh (Steve Buscemi). The A story with Garcia is weak, but the supporting cast has fun — particularly Williams as the unhinged Critical Bill.

The feature directing debut of David Dobkin is quirky in ways that recall both Tarantino and the Coens, but the town’s disturbing similarity to small-town life as seen on TV (noted by an alarmed Janeane Garofalo) tilts it in the meta direction of “Pulp Fiction” and “Reservoir Dogs." There’s nothing terribly novel about the screenplay, yet it attracted the talented likes of Joaquin Phoenix, Vince Vaughn and Garofalo. It’s a neo-noir try-hard that never gets out of the shadow of the films it’s emulating.

Oscar-winning screenwriter Tom Schulman (“Dead Poets Society”) made his directorial debut in 1997 with this direly unfunny dark comedy about a mobster (Joe Pesci) tasked with transporting eight severed heads to a Los Angeles crime lord. (The noggins are required as proof of death.) Pesci’s luggage gets switched via an airline mix-up, which forces the wiseguy to go on a desperate hunt for his grisly cargo. That the film hasn’t acquired a cult following over the last two decades should tell you everything you need to know.

John Herzfeld’s ensemble crime film brings together a bizarre group of murderers and showbiz types after a contract killer’s ostensibly well-orchestrated hit goes awry. Herzfeld seems to be going for an Altman-esque spin on the Tarantino formula, and he’s certainly surrendered the right cast to pull it off (e.g. James Spader, Paul Mazursky, Charlize Theron, Jeff Daniels, Marsha Mason and Glenne Headly). But the twists lack sizzle, and the characters are carbon copies of eccentrics from other, better movies. But, hey, that Teri Hatcher-Charlize Theron fistfight is pretty nifty!

Kevin Spacey made his directorial debut with this verbose crime drama about a trio of thieves (Matt Dillon, Gary Sinise and William Fichtner) who hole up in a New Orleans bar after a robbery gone wrong. Given that it’s 4 a.m., there’s only the owner (M. Emmet Walsh), the bartender (Faye Dunaway) and a few customers (Viggo Mortensen, Skeet Ulrich and John Spencer) to contend with, though we quickly get the sense that everyone is not who they appear to be. The banter strains for the tough guy poetry of Tarantino or one of his gods, Elmore Leonard, but even this capable cast can’t get it to sing.

Oliver Stone goes full-on pulp with this deliriously dark yarn about a deep-in-debt loser (Sean Penn) who finds himself stranded in a sketchy Arizona town. A husband (Nick Nolte) and wife ( Jennifer Lopez) approach him separately to off the other; naturally, he finds himself attracted to the latter, so he takes her offer. It all goes sideways in a graphically violent manner, and, unlike in “Natural Born Killers” (written by Tarantino), Stone doesn’t make it more than a commentary on basic human greed. It’s a brutal movie, but the script (co-written by John Ridley and based on his book) is often savagely funny.

Christopher McQuarrie would probably bristle at his directorial debut being lumped in with “Pulp Fiction” wannabes, but even though he’d won an Oscar for the witty “The Usual Suspects," the perception at the time was that he was of the Tarantino school. He didn’t exactly break free of this notion with “The Way of the Gun," but he at least established that he had a distinctive voice and a way with violence that wasn’t glib in the QT manner. The dialogue is razor sharp, Benicio del Toro and Ryan Phillippe make for a delightfully amoral duo and the final shootout is gangbusters.

England has a rich tradition of gangster movies, but when you first saw Guy Ritchie’s “Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels," chances are you saw it as an across-the-pond companion piece of “Reservoir Dogs” or “Pulp Fiction” rather than a riff on, say, “The Long Good Friday." Ritchie’s dialogue is good and quippy, and his cast (including Nick Moran, Jason Flemyng, Jason Statham, Vinnie Jones and Sting) has a splendid time knocking it around.  

Tarantino reportedly signed on to appear in this Vegas-set crime comedy two days before “Pulp Fiction” won the Palme d’Or at the 1994 Cannes Film Festival, and, well, he honored his commitment. QT’s presence as the mysterious Johnny Destiny only hurt the film (audience’s couldn’t help but compare it to the filmmaker’s work), but given the low quality of the script, it’s hard to see what might’ve helped this drastically unfunny lark. It’s also tough to see what Tarantino saw in the project, aside from the opportunity to feed his acting jones.

This is another ‘90s crime film that drew unfair comparisons to “Pulp Fiction." It’s a low-key charmer about three losers (Adam Trese, Vincent Gallo and William Forsythe) trying to make a big score so they can get out of their New Jersey town. It’s an inventive little comedy that plays as more of a hang-out movie in the mold of “Diner” or a caper flick like “Big Deal on Madonna Street” than anything Tarantino had made up until this point.

The title is a tipoff that this is a film desperate to be cool, and director Peter O’Fallon wastes no time in confirming our worst fears. The plot revolves around the kidnapping of a former mob boss (Christopher Walken) by a group of young friends (Henry Thomas, Sean Patrick Flanery, Jeremy Sisto, Jay Mohr and Johnny Galecki) who need his money to pay off the ransom for one of their sisters. It’s a convoluted scenario, and it plays out with little in the way of invention. Denis Leary is particularly annoying as a hit man who does Leary-esque shtick.

Any movie that hinges on an overdue VHS copy of “King Kong Lives” can’t be all that bad, and “The Big Hit” is an unapologetically silly trifle that deserves more love than it gets. Directed by Hong Kong maestro Kirk Wong, the film makes great use of its appealing cast (Mark Wahlberg, Bokeem Woodbine, Lou Diamond Phillips, Christina Applegate and Elliott Gould) and almost veers into genre spoof on several occasions. The constant pop culture references get a little strained at times, but you admire the effort. 

It’s difficult to imagine a film about a Gen X hit man (John Cusack) returning for his high school reunion getting greenlit without the success of “Pulp Fiction," and this is a case where Tarantino’s influence is more than welcome. While the original script predates the production of “Pulp Fiction," the film’s mix of pop cultural references and graphic violence would’ve been considered a commercial gamble pre-1994. In 1997, however, it felt right on time. Cusack’s high school hallway brawl with Benny “The Jet” Urquidez is fantastic, but the film’s best moment involves Cusack, an infant and David Bowie/Queen’s “Under Pressure."

Drew Goddard chose to work in a vintage Tarantino key with his follow-up to “Cabin in the Woods," and he mostly pulls it off. The neo-noir/whodunnit script gives a first-rate ensemble cast (including Jeff Bridges, Jon Hamm, Dakota Fanning, Chris Hemsworth and Cynthia Erivo) plenty of juicy dialogue to sink their teeth into and, as in every QT film, everyone seems to be having the time of their lives. Though the length is a little egregious, it’s a consistently inventive genre-blend gem from one of our most underrated writer-directors.

Franchise Pictures’ Elie Samaha produced and co-wrote this dud of a Tarantino knockoff featuring performances ranging from hammy to somnambulant from Eric Roberts, Joe Pantoliano, Tia Carrere, Tony Curtis, William Forsythe (who always seems to find his way into these things) and a pre-“Bring the Pain” comeback Chris Rock. The film’s gimmick has Roberts pairing up criminals with their intellectual/personality opposites, but the script does nothing interesting with the scenario.

If moviegoers could howl with laughter at the accidental murder of Marvin in “Pulp Fiction," there’s no limit to the amount of cruelty they’ll find amusing, right? This seemed to be Peter Berg’s idea heading into this relentlessly mean-spirited comedy, which starts with the inadvertent killing of a prostitute at a bachelor party and gets progressively meaner as it goes along. The film is so confidently written and directed that you might be tempted to go along with the toxic shenanigans; if not, you’ll probably want to tap out in the first 20. 

This is the kind of quirk-heavy nightmare that gets a kick out of its main character, Jjaks (Keanu Reeves), being stuck with a misspelled name due to a birth certificate snafu. It’s a road comedy with some unmistakable “True Romance”/”Badlands” flourishes, but despite an A-plus cast of Keanu Reeves, Cameron Diaz, Vincent D’Onofrio, Delroy Lindo, Tuesday Weld and Dan Ayrkoyd, it feels completely inorganic.

This surprisingly lively triptych of tales puts screenwriter John August on the map and gave director Doug Liman a much-needed boost after being shrugged off as inessential to the success of “Swingers." Coming in at a tight 102 minutes, the three interlinked stories are sort of a miniature “Pulp Fiction” with just the right level of stakes. The clever dialogue and the infectious energy brought to the material from Liman and his talented ensemble hook you from jump. It’s an exciting, propulsive experience and the kind of ride you want to go on again and again.

The Wachowskis breakthrough feature is a classically structured neo-noir that owes more to Billy Wilder than Tarantino, but the film’s proximity to “Pulp Fiction” got it lumped in with the various pretenders flooding the indie film market. The twisty narrative is built around two very different women (Gina Gershon and Jennifer Tilly) who fall in love and work up a scheme to bust free of their constrictive circumstances. Joe Pantoliano is a ball of fury as the mob boss whose money they’re plotting to steal.

Tarantino’s influence is all over the development of this Elmore Leonard adaptation: He resurrected John Travolta’s career (and reportedly convinced the actor to take the role of Chili Palmer after he initially turned it down), ignited a mainstream craze for pulp stories and passed on this project to adapt Leonard’s “Rum Punch” as “Jackie Brown." It worked out great for everyone. Barry Sonnenfeld’s playful visual style was a much better match for this spiky Hollywood yarn, and Travolta got to prove his comeback wasn’t a fluke in a non-Tarantino directed picture. The sequel, “Be Cool," was released in 2005 and is one of the worst films ever made.

A triptych of stories based around a diner? What an idea! This indie from writer-director Michael Covert managed to round up some decent talent (John Savage, Jennifer Tilly, Carol Kane, Eric Roberts and Brion James), but it errs in trying to simultaneously goof on and emulate the Tarantino aesthetic. It’s humor falls flat, and the direction lacks the requisite flair to work as a loopy genre exercise.

Swing and a miss! Jason Smilovic’s screenplay read well enough to attract the likes of Bruce Willis, Stanley Tucci, Morgan Freeman, Ben Kingsley and Lucy Liu, but there’s nothing here. Smilovic is too impressed with his own ingenuity; he spins a sprawling tale that keeps the audience on its toes, but it lacks the sly hook and colorful characters of a good pulp story. It’s an effort to stick with it, and there’s no reward at the end.

Kiefer Sutherland took a crack at directing with this Brad Mirman-scripted crime flick, and he rounded up an impressive ensemble cast that includes Rod Steiger, Vincent Gallo, Martin Sheen, Mykelti Williamson, Kevin Pollak and Kim Dickens. These folks must’ve been really excited to work together, because the screenplay is derivative of Tarantino’s work to the point of being actionable. This was a waste of everyone’s time.

The final feature of John Frankenheimer’s brilliant career is a third-rate Tarantino/Leonard riff from steadily employed studio hack Ehren Kruger (though Leonard apparently enjoyed this film, so maybe this is a game-recognizes-game scenario). Kruger isn’t as witty or as skillful in his plotting as Tarantino (one of the film’s big twists revolves around Charlize Theron never seeing a photo of the man she’s in love with), and Frankenheimer’s typically muscular action direction feels muted.

The story of the making of “The Boondock Saints” is a far better tale than the actual bro-friendly movie in which a pair of justice-obsessed, Boston-bred brothers decide to kill off the city’s mobsters. It’s a psychotic wish-fulfillment fantasy that’s long on moronic speeches (that’s the Tarantino influence) and short on sense. Willem Dafoe and Billy Connolly undeservedly class up the joint.