Quentin Tarantino and Philosophy (10 page)

That Beatrix’s quest is portrayed as morally justified is very clear. As Beatrix herself points out:

And as Budd points out:

And the
Kill Bill
saga ends with a blessing on the Bride’s actions: “The lioness has been reunited with her cub, and all is right in the jungle.” It seems clear: in
Kill Bill
vengeance is portrayed as morally justified.

The truth is, you’re the weak. And I am the tyranny of evil men.
But I’m tryin’, Ringo . . . I’m tryin’ real hard to be the shepherd.

—Jules Winnfield,
Pulp Fiction

 

Examples of mercy abound in Tarantino’s films, almost as much as examples of vengeance do. In
Kill Bill Volume 1,
Bill shows Beatrix mercy when he—as she lays in her hospital bed—recalls the “goodbye forever” poison syringe assassination order. And in
Kill Bill Volume 2
, when she shows up to kill him, Bill shows Beatrix mercy by allowing her time with her daughter before also giving her a fair opportunity to kill him. In
Pulp Fiction
, Butch hunts down Marsellus and would even blow off Marsellus’ head, were he not stopped by Maynard the “pawn shop shop-keep.” And yet, when the tables turn, and—while Marsellus is being anally raped by Zed—Butch is able to escape, Butch does not leave Marsellus to this awful fate, but instead rescues him, in a obvious act of mercy. In return, Marsellus shows mercy to Butch by forgiving the wrong Butch inflicted on him by refusing to throw the prize fight.

But the most notable example of mercy is Jules Winnfield’s. Jules and Vincent narrowly escape death—by the “miracle” of Vincent and he being missed by multiple bullets fired at them from point blank range. Jules “feels the touch of God” and thus concludes that Ezekiel 25:17 instructs him to give up being “the tyranny of evil men” (by being a cold blooded hit man) and instead to become “The Shepherd.” As he enters the “transitional period” between his two lives, the restaurant where he and Vincent are eating is robbed. But instead of killing the thieves
(which he actually envisions doing in the original version of the
Pulp Fiction
script), he begins his new “Caine-from-Kung-Fustyle” life with an extreme act of mercy: he buys their lives, letting them escape with a large amount of stolen money—$1,500 of it his own.

I don’t think much of an argument is needed to show that these films glorify these acts of mercy. After all, Bill admits that he owes Beatrix better than to “sneak into her room in the night, like a filthy rat, and kill her in her sleep.” Such a thing would “lower” him (
Volume 1
). And Ezekiel 25:17 is the moral lesson of
Pulp Fiction
; God gives both Jules and Vincent a chance to be shepherds (Vince’s rejection of that chance leads to his death). It is clear: according to Tarantino’s films, mercy should be common practice.

It’s mercy, compassion, and forgiveness I lack, not rationality.

—Beatrix Kiddo,
Kill Bill Volume 1

 

It certainly seems that these two claims—that
mercy should be common practice
and that
revenge is justified
—are inconsistent. How can one be justified in enacting revenge if one should be merciful?

Acts of revenge in Tarantino’s films are just what one would expect them to be: acts driven by the victim’s emotional desire for satisfaction after personally suffering a wrong at the hands of the offender. But, in Tarantino’s films, mercy is never exercised in lieu of such vengeance.

Consider the acts of mercy we have discussed so far. In
Kill Bill Volume 2
, Bill recognizes the wrong that he did to Beatrix—he was a “real bad daddy”—and likewise recognizes that he has no claim of vengeance upon her. In fact, he seems to recognize her claim of vengeance on him and—even though he reserves the right to defend himself—he feels obligated to give her a fair shot at killing him. In
Pulp Fiction
, Butch shows Marsellus mercy, but he has no right of revenge on Marsellus. (In fact it is the other way around; Butch wrongs Marsellus by refusing to throw the prize fight after he has promised to do so and accepted Marsellus’ money for doing so.) Thus, the mercy that Butch shows Marsellus is not in lieu of a right of vengeance.
Marsellus has a right of vengeance on Butch, but doesn’t waive that right until Butch saves his life. Marsellus views Butch’s action as an action that lifts his right of revenge and thus Marsellus isn’t merciful in lieu of revenge either.

Lastly, consider Jules’s act of mercy in the final scene of
Pulp Fiction
.

Jules isn’t ignoring a right of vengeance; neither Ringo nor Yolanda have personally wronged him. He is stopping them from doing something that would require him to kill them: taking his case, killing anyone in the diner, continuing their life of
thievery, or leaving with his
bad motherfucker
. And notice that this is consistent with the commands of Ezekiel 25:17, which doesn’t demand forgiveness but simply calls Jules to “shepherd the weak through the valley of darkness.”

Thus, it seems that Tarantino’s view is this: Mercy is a praiseworthy—and even desirable—thing. Perhaps it is even obligatory in certain circumstances if we take Ezekiel 25:17 seriously. But it does not trump the right of revenge; when an offender wrongs a victim, the victim’s obligation to show mercy is lifted and revenge is morally justified. (Actually, Tarantino doesn’t think
all
acts of revenge are morally justified. I’ll say more about this.)

Perhaps we can most clearly articulate Tarantino’s view by delineating mercy.
Considerate mercy
—sparing others pain when possible (even if inconvenient)—is desirable and perhaps even obligatory.
Forgiving mercy
, however, where one forgives those who have wronged him or her, is not morally obligatory. Granted, someone who exercises forgiving mercy is nicer (more virtuous) than one who doesn’t; but one who does not forgive is not doing anything morally wrong. So it seems that Tarantino’s view is that compassionate mercy ought to be shown, but not in lieu of vengeance; forgiving mercy can be dispensed with.

Like Beatrix, it seems that Tarantino’s view lacks mercy, compassion, and forgiveness, but not rationality; the view is perfectly consistent. Consistency, however, although required for truth, does not guarantee truth. So, one must still ask, is Tarantino’s view correct about mercy and revenge? It certainly seems that the general point about mercy—that it is a good thing—seems right. But isn’t vengeance something that most philosophers frown upon?

That bitch ain’t gittin’ no Bushido points for killin’ a white trash piece of shit like me with a samurai sword.

—Budd,
Kill Bill
[original script]

Some might try to find justification for Tarantino’s view in Asian philosophy. After all, Bushido—the warrior code of ethics derived from Asian philosophies like Buddhism, Zen, Confucianism, and Shintoism that emphasizes “loyalty, self sacrifice, justice, sense of shame, refined manners, purity, modesty, frugality, martial spirit, honor, and affection”
³⁴
—does suggest that acts of vengeance are justified in many circumstances. However, although some acts of vengeance that occur in Tarantino’s films, like O-ren’s killing of Boss Matsumoto, might be justified under the Bushido moral code, most of them would not be.

The great and lasting essence of Bushido centers not upon combat, the techniques of war, the killing of men or the concerns of self, but rather upon the total negation of all passion and desire. For the warrior truly to be a warrior, she must enter into a calm, empty place; she must give herself up and die. Only in this way can she achieve her end and vanquish her enemy. Bushido, in its essence, exists in a master-servant dynamic.

Samurai in feudal Japan were first and foremost retainers, warriors attached to a daimyo or regional lord. It was their duty to live and die for their lords. Samurai who failed in their capacities were either cast aside to become ronin (“wave men”) or ordered to commit seppuku (ritual suicide). Failure in feudal Japan was considered a dishonor. Loss of any kind, particularly in battle was equally dishonorable. A samurai’s failure reflected negatively upon not only himself but equally upon his lord distributing shame on a grander scale.
³⁵

The clearest evidence that Bushido cannot be used to justify “Tarantinian” acts of vengeance can be found in
Kill Bill
. Beatrix—given her training—is supposed to operate under the Bushido moral code. However, there is no room in Bushido for Beatrix’s claim of revenge on Bill or any of the D.iV.A.S. She breaks from Bushido the moment she breaks from Bill. Bill is her lord; she is his samurai. He gives her training, protection, payment, and affection, all components required from a daimyo to his retainers. She in return is to give him loyalty, fidelity, and her life. And not only is Beatrix’s quest for revenge unjustified, but because of her abandonment, Bill, as far as Bushido is concerned, is justified in trying to end her life. Truth be told, when
Beatrix wakes up from her coma, if she were to follow the Bushido code, instead of vowing revenge on all who wronged her, she would commit ritual suicide for failing to protect her friends and fiancé in the El Paso wedding chapel. All in all, Bushido would view Beatrix’s actions as immoral. Her motives are self-centered and she is filled with passion, rage, and a great homicidal thirst; these are all abominations in Bushido. This is also why Bill’s actions are not justified according to Bushido: he is only justified in killing Beatrix, not everyone in the wedding chapel!

Interestingly enough, the only “Bushido exemplar” is Hattori Hanzo who has vowed, since his student Bill rejected the Bushido code, never again to create an object which kills people, but abandons that vow when he learns that Beatrix intends to assassinate Bill. His student has gone evil and Hanzo has a moral responsibility to fix the problem. When the answer comes in the form of the yellow-haired warrior, Hattori Hanzo is justified, according to Bushido, in breaking his vow to ensure that this wrong is righted. But this is the only example of “Tarantinian” revenge that is justified by Bushido. So it’s fairly clear that Bushido could not be used to defend Tarantino’s view.

Of course, one could try to go outside Bushido in the Eastern traditions—to Buddhism and Hinduism—to find justification for Tarantino’s view. But I don’t think one would have much luck. Both religions subscribe to Karma and the notion that everyone will ultimately get what they deserve. Revenge is thus unnecessary, and enacting revenge may make you deserving of something you don’t want. So Asian philosophy can’t be used to defend Tarantino’s view.

JULES:
Oh man, I will never forgive your ass for this shit; this is some fucked up repugnant shit.

VINCENT:
Jules, did you ever hear the philosophy that once a man admits that he is wrong, that he’s immediately forgiven for all wrong-doings; have you ever heard that?

JULES:
Get the fuck out my face with that shit! The motherfucker said that shit never had to pick up itty-bitty pieces of skull on account of your dumb ass.

—Vincent Vega and Jules Winnfield,
Pulp Fiction

The most notable Western moral code that speaks against revenge is the Christian one. Jesus told us to love our enemies, pray for those who mistreat us, and turn the other cheek.
³⁶
The Apostle Paul even specifically tells us not to seek revenge.
³⁷
Thus it seems fairly clear that one can’t be a Christian and seek vengeance. But Christianity doesn’t corner the morality market—and I even doubt that all Christians would agree with my interpretation of the above passages—so certainly much more needs to be said.

In modern philosophy, it’s commonly assumed that revenge is not morally justified. So, one might expect to find, in the classical philosophers, a commonly accepted knock-down argument against the moral permissibility of revenge. This, however, is not the case. Many classic philosophers consider whether “retribution” or “rehabilitation” should be the goal of government punishment, but most of them say nothing about the moral permissibility of
personal
revenge. They do agree that a government allowing citizens to seek personal revenge is ill-advised because it would lead to social unrest (perhaps even chaos), but this doesn’t tell us about revenge’s morality; the fact that something should be illegal doesn’t entail that it is immoral. A few have said a little about the moral permissibility of personal revenge—and at first glance it seems that they oppose it—but when one takes a closer look, it becomes clear that they actually leave the question of revenge’s moral justification open.