![]() It’s not a comedy, and it’s not a drama, and it’s not any other genre you can pin down. It’s a film with no villains no central conflict and no over-arching narrative tension. Eric Roth’s screenplay ignores all the formulas of film-making, and the movie unfolds more like a modern novel than a motion picture. But Gump is every bit as unconventional as Pulp Fiction. Pulp Fiction, which Gump beat for best picture at the 1995 Oscars (along with The Shawshank Redemption, Quiz Show and Four Weddings and a Funeral) gets all the credit for daring cinematic experimentation, with its zigzagging chronology and script full of pop culture shout-outs. Which, in my opinion, is the definition of a really good film. No matter which point in the plot I enter from – Forrest as a child teaching Elvis how to swivel his hips, Forrest as a Vietnam vet showing the scar on his “butt-ox” to LBJ in the White House – I inevitably find myself curled up on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn in my lap. But every time Gump pops up on TV I get sucked in. And I’m certainly not going to win any cool points defending a film that inspired a shrimp restaurant chain. After two-and-a-half hours of Alan Silvestri’s piano-tinkling score, I too feel like banging my head against the nearest wall. Granted, there is a lot about the movie that’s annoying. Its sugary sentimentality and cornball catchphrases (“Mama always said…”) make their teeth hurt. ![]() But Forrest Gump seems to give a lot of smart people, especially critics, a stomach ache. Movies are like a box of chocolates – everybody has their favourites. Ben Svetkey is a senior editor at The Hollywood Reporter
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