Upon it’s initial release in 1997, Jackie Brown failed to meet many expectations including mine. It wasn’t Pulp Fiction Part 2, it wasn’t True Romance, and it wasn’t even shot in the 2:35 aspect ratio. It was a film consisting of close ups of wrinkles on Forster’s exhausted face, a face that’s seen it all before and can’t bear to see it anymore. There were no hit men in a beat up car talking about cheeseburgers. Instead, it’s a collection of desperate people trying to survive by any means necessary. One year and crummy videotape later, it started to make sense for me. A film does not have to be filled with boisterous dialogue or gunplay to be engage, it’s those uncomfortable moments of silence that can make a film really great. Those moments where the acting begins to shine through. It may take a special kind of actor to handle Tarantino’s expletive laced dialogue, but it takes an even better actor to make gray hair and crow’s feet even more engaging.