October 15, 2018

Let’s talk about that ‘Pulp Fiction’ homage in Drew Goddard’s ‘Bad Times at the El Royale’

WARNING! The following contains spoilers for Bad Times at the El Royale! 

With its nonlinear storytelling, scattered title cards introducing characters, old school soundtrack, and abundance of bloody violence, Drew Goddard’s Bad Times at the El Royale owes a lot to the films of Quentin Tarantino.

If you’re a lover of the movies like me, Pulp Fiction and The Hateful Eight probably sprung to mind as you watched the inhabitants of the once-fashionable El Royale hotel attempt to unravel sinister mysteries, gauge whom among them is trustworthy, or fight for their lives and, in some cases, their very souls. 

In this blog post, I want to talk about the specific homage to Tarantino’s 1994 classic, Pulp Fiction, that pervades a lot of the film, particularly in the context of what each individual character wants. Indeed, the plot is entirely driven by character wants. Let’s break it down with the neatness of bullet points, shall we?

• Dock” O’Kelly/Father Daniel Flynn, a petty thief (Jeff Bridges) wants the bag of money that his brother buried in one of the rooms at the El Royale in 1959. 
• Darlene Sweet, a girl group singer (Cynthia Erivo) wants a stable singing career
• Dwight Broadbeck/Seymour ‘Laramie’ Sullivan, an FBI agent (Jon Hamm) wants evidence on the hotel’s shady misdeeds for Director Hoover
• Miles Miller, the hotel’s concierge (Lewis Pullman) wants retribution for his eternal soul 
• Emily Summerspring (Dakota Johnson) wants to get her sister, Rose, away from the Charlie Manson-esque cult leader Billy Lee (see below)
• Rose, a brainwashed young woman (Cailee Spaeny) to be reunited with Billy Lee
• Billy Lee, a sociopath (Chris Hemsworth) wants to be reunited with Rose and kill anyone that gets in his way

Now, before we get into the nitty gritty of it all, allow me to bring your attention to the fact that the word “Royale” factors heavily in both Goddard’s film and Pulp Fiction. The latter contains a now-iconic conversation between Vincent Vega (John Travolta) and Jules Winnfield (Samuel L. Jackson), the black-suited hitmen in the employ of Marsellus Wallace (Ving Rhames). Vincent, having recently returned from a trip to France, asks Jules if he knows what Europeans call a McDonald’s “Quarter Pounder With Cheese.” The answer? “A Royale With Cheese.” It’s because of the metric system, don’t ya know. 

That’s just a little interesting comparison I was able to make between Pulp Fiction and Bad Times, but the real focus of this piece revolves around a valuable reel of film discovered by the faux Father Flynn in the secret chamber of the hotel that allows Miles to spy on and film the guests and their perfidious predilection. 

We’re never told what the film explicitly shows, only that it features a sexual encounter between a woman and a very famous man. The only reason that Miles did not ship it to his employers in Pennsylvania is that the man was kind to him, one of the few guests that ever was. As the movie progresses we get some more vague hints about the mystery man’s identity: the owners of the hotel wanted a sex film of him very bad, he is now deceased, he has a very pristine reputation, and the film would fetch a very large sum, should it ever fall into the right hands. 

My immediate guess while seeing the film in theaters was JFK, but those on Reddit make a persuasive case for his brother, Bobby, who almost became President of the United States and was gunned down a year before Bad Times is set. The same goes for MLK Jr. 

It doesn’t really matter, because the reel of film is simply a MacGuffin that is meant to drive the story and represent a much larger theme: the broken dreams or wants of all the characters whose fates intertwine of that dark and stormy night in the late ’60s. 

Those Pulp Fiction fans among you probably know where I’m going with all this talk about a vague artifact, whose literal meaning does not actually need to factor into the plot. Yes, I’m talking about the briefcase that Vincent and Jules are dispatched to recover for Marsellus Wallace. All we ever learn about the contents is that: 1) it emits a ghostly golden glow 2) it is very valuable 3) is very beautiful. Some have speculated that it’s just bars of gold, while others (like me) subscribe to the theory that the briefcase contains Wallace’s soul.

However, where Pulp Fiction‘s enigmatic black briefcase is a nifty little storytelling trick that propels the plot forward, the nameless reel of film in Bad Times holds a lot more thematic weight, when you consider the movie’s time period and the presumption that the man caught on celluloid was a very great/influential man such as JFK, Robert Kennedy, or Martin Luther King. Personally, I feel strongly that it was JFK and will explain why. 

Ok, so when you translate the name “El Royale” into English, it literally means “The Royal,” implying a place that is fit enough for a king and that’s what the hotel once was, the hippest joint in all of California and Nevada, as the kitschy gimmick is that it’s equally split between both states, giving guests the choice of staying in either. 

However, when we arrive at the place in 1969, we find that the metaphorical kingdom has been “ransacked,” fallen on hard times, thanks to a rescinded liquor license and the simple changing of the times—the novelty has worn off like any other fad. 

Moreover, the 1950s aura of the establishment has fallen out of favor with a generation that preoccupies itself not with material objects and complacency, but with drugs, sex, and political and social revolution. 

The country is rampant with cultural upheaval. Folks are publicly protesting the Vietnam War, burning their draft cards, or fleeing to Canada to avoid the draft. Not only that, but disenfranchised groups like African Americans, gay people, women, and even Native Americans are all pushing for more recognition and acceptance in mainstream society. 

That sense of hope and progress for the country, promised by President Kennedy in the early ’60s, crumbled to nothing when he was gunned down on that fateful day in Dallas—at least in the eyes of the counterculture thriving at the time. The Kennedy administration famously referred to as “Camelot,” was no more, a once-great kingdom gone to seed, just like the El Royale hotel, whose name basically means castle. 

When our characters learn that this once-great bastion of hospitality is actually “some kind of pervert hotel,” they’re disgusted and a little disappointed, a parallel to the public’s perception of the government after Kennedy’s assassination. Once America became entrenched in the quagmire of Vietnam, its citizens at home began to severely distrust the federal powers that be, no longer convinced that “The Man” had their best interests in mind and decided to take matters into their own hands and rage against the establishment. Or, if the tumultuous nature of the world was too much to handle, people would choose to live on hippie communes, put their faith in false (and sometimes violent) prophets like Charles Manson, or both. 

Each character in Bad Times arrives at the hotel with wants and certain expectations, which all prove to be (for the most part) their respective undoings. Their trust in what should be is subverted when they discover what actually is. Every single person is killed, shot, kidnapped, tied up, or tortured by putting blind trust in the things they want/believe in, be it money, faith, justice, a family reunion, or atheistic anarchy. 

As such, the unnamed man on that film (perhaps JFK, perhaps someone else entirely) is a reflection of these shattered expectations, as well America’s societal mindset in the 1960s. A respected man, remembered fondly in his death, is nothing like he appeared to be in life. He was just as tarnished and broken as the rest of the world, with the same animalistic cravings and vices that make us flawed and human. 

He was not a god and while his pristine reputation and memory continue to inspire others to do good, the information of his seedy personal life could undo every step of progress made in his name. This goes to show just how fragile martyrdom can be, how a memory can go from sweet to sour with just a little bit of context. 

That’s what Goddard is doing thematically with the film MacGuffin and the movie as a whole, he’s introducing one thing and flipping over the cup to reveal that we’ve been guessing wrong the entire time.

A lot of his films like Cloverfield and The Cabin in the Woods undermine our basic expectations of what genres and stories should be. You don’t need all the information about a giant monster in order for it to be effective and a group of teenagers doesn’t have to be terrorized by the same supernatural force for the umpteenth time in a row. 

Bad Times at the El Royale does this so effectively because it has the power of history on its side, the allyship of a decade where everything was flipped on its head. 

So yeah, feel free to check in whenever you like.

Just don’t expect things to turn out the way you wanted.