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Postmod Junkies

The Usual Suspects and Pulp Fiction inhabit diametrically opposed musical universes. Each film’s sonic landscape highlights the other and clarifies their respective and brilliant approaches to embodying narrative ethos and aesthetic lineage.


THE USUAL SUSPECTS

John Ottman’s classical orchestral score is not just a throwback but a living ghost of Old Hollywood. It is almost constantly present, like Golden Hollywood’s Herrmann or its heirs, John Williams or Jerry Goldsmith.

Ottman meticulously conjures the solemnity, dread, and operatic scale of noir worlds and Hitchcockian suspense with orchestration, melody, and harmonic lusciousness. It is all chromatic, in the sense of multicolored.

He drapes the film’s labyrinthine plot with equally complex layers of strings, woodwinds, and symphonic tremolos. The score operates as narrative glue, knitting together all the disparate timelines, while it deepens the collective sense of mythic fate, even as the film ultimately dissolves its own reality. While we lose our sense of what is real, the score pounds relentlessly on; it is our anchor. Without it, perhaps the narrative’s deconstruction of itself might not hold our mental attention.

There are virtually no pop song cues—the diegesis is hermetically sealed, timeless. In this way the soundworld reinforces the aura of the closed, fatalistic system within which each of its characters is trapped.


PULP FICTION

Tarantino has confirmed that he doesn’t want to give a composer the aesthetic power of defining the soul of his films. This displays a proper understanding of the function of original music in film. It carries a power that reinterprets the nature of the whole. Just as with Reservoir Dogs, Pulp Fiction embodies this approach: it destroys the notion of the “original score” altogether.

Tarantino, ostensibly acting as “composer with songs,” builds a kaleidoscopic jukebox of surf rock, soul, vintage pop, and cult obscurities. It’s a bricolage of pre-existing music that functions simultaneously as soundtrack, cultural quotation, and structural device.

Every track—the exotic scales of Misirlou; the daring excitement of Girl, You’ll Be a Woman Soon; the liberation and promise of Son of a Preacher Man—acts as character, mood, ironic commentary, and time-stamp. They work to embed the film within a specifically American pop-psyche.

The total absence of a commissioned score is a radical authorial gesture: Pulp Fiction’s musical world is entirely extrinsic, source-driven, making the film feel porous, open, and wittily self-aware. It loosens the sense of a gap between us and the film. What could be more seductively convincing than an artwork that has no boundary between itself and you?


The two films’ musical approaches are not simply different but antithetical:

The Usual Suspects: Orchestral, inward, mythic, classical — music as a vessel for narrative gravitas, interior meaning, and emotional manipulation.

Pulp Fiction: Pop, outward, postmodern, referential — music as cultural collage, commentary, and mood engine, with no authorial “voice” save the curator’s.

Both approaches are totalizing and saturate their film with meaning from start to finish. Where The Usual Suspects conjures the haunted interior of cinema’s past, Pulp Fiction channels the omnipresent external world of American pop, flattening high and low, past and present, into one anarchic Now.