Welcome to Auteur, a newsletter that dives deep into the world of film and asks: What can we, as brand builders, learn from this?

Film is one of the richest mediums we have for understanding how narrative, aesthetics, and language can come together to not only make an audience feel something—joy, rage, melancholy—but also make them do something. 

Our goal as brand builders—marketeers, designers, strategists—is the same. We’re here to create worlds that are recognisable and compelling. We’re here to tell stories that feel both personal and universal. And we’re here to create campaigns that resonate so deeply, that our customers and clients become lifelong customers and clients.

Thank you for joining us! Auteur is written and curated by Thursday—a team of strategists, designers and developers based in the historical city of Winchester. We work globally with the ethos that being different isn’t enough—what truly matters is being interesting. 

Written by Shope—our in-house strategist. 

This is a film that needs no introduction. For our third edition, we explore the genre-bending, non-linear world of Pulp Fiction by Quentin Tarantino. Bursting with drugs, violence, profanities and stereotypes that (thankfully!) wouldn’t see the light of day today, the film is held dear by critics and creatives alike. In part, because it totally re-imagined what mainstream film could look and feel like.

Celebrated as being disruptive, challenging, and category-defining, it’s the perfect film for ambitious brands to learn from. Let’s explore how and why Pulp Fiction earned it’s stripes.

As always, a minor spoiler alert—a few quotes and scene descriptions lie within, but nothing that reveals the plot.

Every great film, much like every great brand, has a defining concept or conversation that it owns.

Pulp Fiction is a rule-breaker. Structurally, it throws caution to the wind, ignoring the typical three-act structure in favour of twisting timelines and interlocking stories. However, the chaos isn’t cheap and fizzy. It has depth and breadth thanks to the well of references Tarantino skillfully weaves in, and critics and art students continue to unpick to this day. He pays homage to historical events, pulp novels, pop culture, and French New Wave cinema, all of which work to ground the madness in moments of insight.

Still—except for the aforementioned film buffs—there’s so much about the film that simply doesn’t make sense. Some scenes (seem to) completely lack coherence. In the world of brand-building this would be blasphemy. A significant part of our jobs as creatives, strategists and marketeers is ensuring our audiences know exactly what’s on offer, and why.

Pulp Fiction acts as a reminder that not everything needs to be spelled out. Tarantino takes his audience for a ride that’s so unexpected—relying on other devices such as sound, colour, tone, and style for cohesion— that we jump aboard first, and ask questions later.

It feels to me that Buckle Up is the trickster, freewheeling made-you-look idea that underpins the film, and drives us, as watchers, to stick with it.

“That's when you know you've found somebody really special. When you can just shut the f* up for a minute and comfortably share silence.” — Mia Wallace.

Building on the blasphemous (brilliant?) idea of having a brand that lacks clarity, there is also a little brilliance in storytelling that is more indirect. As is the case with Pulp Fiction, it heightens intrigue. Think of it as walking and talking side-by-side with your audience rather than sitting opposite them, one-on-one, face-to-face.

Tarantino’s camera tends to be everywhere except directly in front of his subjects, and even when it is, it’s almost too close for comfort, tightly cropped from the shoulders up. Otherwise, it’s buried inside a trunk, or suspended from the ceiling, or nestled between a whisky glass and cigarette packet. You constantly feel like you’re eavesdropping on private conversations, and there’s a constant sense of being in the thick of it.

Add in the breezy, often meandering dialogue—Vincent and Jules discussing the politics of foot massages, or Mia and Vincent deciding how to break an awkward silence—there’s a strong sense that the plot isn’t performing for you, but rather inviting you to participate in it. 

Brands are so often in broadcast mode: Look at our new product, We’re so proud to announce, Discover the new features, Speak to our experts. Context matters, but could you start to walk with your audience, rather than talk at them?

“Zed’s dead, baby. Zed’s dead.” – Butch

One of the dangers of AI is brands will become perfectly optimised, and as a result converge in style and tone. Every phrase will be perfectly directed to a customers pain point, every layout perfectly optimised according to the latest UX principles, and visual design will steadily become contextless. Not rooted in reference or spontaneous inspiration, but a polished algorithimic amalgamation of brands that came before it. 

Take one of the most absurd and unforgettable scenes in Pulp Fiction: Jules, a sharp-tongued, arrogant hitman, recites a bible verse—Ezekiel 25:17—before pulling the trigger. 

Except it’s not a real verse. Tarantino rewrote it and spliced in his own lines, and it’s since become one of the most quoted and discussed scenes from the film.

That’s what great brands do: they remix, and reframe to create something new, and in doing so, they break through the noise. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I break your concentration?” – Jules

Pulp Fiction thrives on extremes. Moments of tenderness and humanity slowly and sensitively unfold, just to be snatched away by absurdity, comedy or death. There is a relentless push and pull to the narrative, without a middle ground.

The big swings have the effect of waking you up. On rewatch, I kept catching my eyebrows lifted two inches higher than usual, or surprising myself with an unexpected cackle. 

In branding, these moments of disruption can be just as powerful. What follows it—the email newsletter, the product page, the onboarding document—can and should go back to a more ‘plausible’ baseline, but those early flashes of surprise can be compelling.

This isn’t about encouraging clickbait. Rather it’s about disrupting expectations as a way to get your audience to take note of the credible parts of your business or brand.

Thank you for reading, and I’d love to hear if and how this made you consider your brand-building efforts a little differently.

Until next time,

Shope