After establishing his deft handling of non-linear storytelling with his first film, Tarantino upped the ante and blew us all out of the water with this multi-narrative tour de force -- arguably the single finest film on this list.

The thing about Pulp Fiction is that it subverts every rule of screenwriting, turns it on its head and yet creates a potent cocktail of immense headiness. The rush is magnificent as we traipse rollercoasteredly through the warped, campy theme-park of Tarantino's wild imagination.

When first consumed, it is a film that leaves you gasping and out of breath, one that awes and inspires, confounds and overwhelms, shocks and makes you giggle. Often, all at once.

Pulp Fiction is made up of three different stories, with three leading men: there's John Travolta, resurrecting his career as relatively unflappable yet decidedly slow hitman Vincent Vega; there's Samuel L Jackson, playing his god-fearing and articulate partner in crime, Jules Winnfield, a man who likes his wallet distinctively profane; and then there's Bruce Willis, winning new respect for his acting chops as Butch Coolidge the boxer, killing more people than both hitmen while always buttering his quips the wiser side of the crack.

And in the middle of men and massacres and accidental murders stands, sexier than conceivable, the high priestess of cool: Uma Thurman as Mrs Mia Wallace, a never-was television actress now married to a gigantic mobster who tosses people out of their balconies for, well, touching her feet. It's enough to make you square, daddy-o.

The loquacious duo of hitmen head to a job gossipping about that very balcony throw. As always, there is a difference of opinion.

So as we get out of the elevator and follow them around the twisty hallways -- Jules arguing that it's an overreaction, Vincent emphasising the intimacy of the foot massage, Jules declaring himself the foot master, Vincent playfully asking for a massage -- it's easy to overlook the fact that Quentin's thrown in a understatedly spectacular tracking shot which hasn't cut, despite the men in black walking past their intended door to take a breather, because they're a few minutes early.

Finally, as they head in to the job, Jules reminds that it's time to wear the dark masks: "C'mon," he growls, "let's get into character."

And it's characters like these that populate the gloriously bizarre Pulp Fiction universe, characters who quote the Bible verbatim, look like dorks in the director's civvies, can deal with a samurai sword at the slightest provocation, steal a trophy from a groovy restaurant's dance competition, and can truly appreciate a piping hot cup of gourmet coffee.

They are enough to make the film priceless, but QT spices things up by slicing the story into chapters and teasing us constantly with his edits. Entirely Scorsese's heir when it comes to the use of music -- he goes with pre-recorded songs he loves because he feels composers could potentially do a screwy job -- this fantastic film is cut to the sauciest of soundtracks.

This five-minute sequence says a lot. A low-rent Seinfeld-alike fires at Jules and Vincent, missing them completely and getting casually gunned down from our boys. On the drive back, Jules is convinced of divine intervention, of the idea that they have been saved because God came down from heaven and decided to intervene, via miracle.

As a result, Jules wants to quit. Vincent, inevitably blaspheming with each phrase, tells him he's being crazy, and asks young Marvin sitting in the back for his opinion.

At the time, Vincent's flippantly got his gun in his hand. Without warning, Jules rides over a speedbump and Vincent accidentally shoots Marvin in the face. It's a surreal moment of sheer lunacy, and it's disturbing just how hilarious Tarantino makes this. The shocking shot itself, and its meticulously banal follow-up, only emphasises how incredibly well the director plays extreme violence -- for laughs.

And, of course, it's typical of Tarantino's loopy whimsy that after giving us that discourse on tipping in Reservoir Dogs, Buscemi cameos in this film as, um, a waiter. Heh.

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