Love him or hate him, Quentin Tarantino is a master of unique, tense story openings.

Let’s go over some examples then try to write our own “Tarantino opening” together!

During the last stream, a subscribers requested that we write our own “Tarantino” opening.

Watch a short version of the stream here or scroll down for what we wrote.

Let’s Write a “Tarantino” Opening

• Movie writer/director Quentin Tarantino has a unique style when it comes to creating engaging opening scenes of films
• But what makes them so special, and can we translate that to a scene in a written story?
• Let’s start by summarizing a few famous examples:

Reservoir Dogs

Starts with a group of suit-dressed gangsters in a breakfast diner, arguing over the meaning of Madonna’s “Like a Virgin,” then turns into a debate on the ethics of tipping. 

Each of their responses is symbolic of their character arcs: the one who doesn’t want to tip is only looking out for himself is the only one to survive, the one who rats on him for not tipping is the police plant, the one who argues for the waitress has a heart and sticks up for the plant, etc.

Kill Bill

The main opening scene is a woman driving up to a nice suburban home, ringing the doorbell, then immediately having a martial arts knife fight with the woman who answers. They fight back and forth, breaking things and each other, until the woman’s four-year-old daughter comes home from school on the bus, and the two women pretend like they’re friends and everything is fine. 

The girl leaves, the women have coffee in the kitchen and chat, then one of them uses a hidden gun on the other, misses, and gets a knife in her head. The little girl comes into the kitchen, sees her dead mom, and the other woman tells her that if she wants, she can find her and try to get revenge someday.

Inglorious Basterds

Starts with a scene in rural Nazi-occupied France, when some German officers/soldiers come to the house of a dairy farmer and his family. The Nazi officer is very kind, all smiles, and goes on a monologue about milk quality, then slowly transitions into asking if there are any hidden Jews that the farmer knows about. 

The farmer denies, but the audience is shown the Jewish family beneath the kitchen floorboards. It looks like everything is going to be fine, but then the officer brings the soldiers inside and has them shoot into the floorboards, killing the Jewish family except for one girl who escapes.

Some things these scenes have in common:

• They subvert our expectations of people: gangsters talking about normal life things, suburban women killing each other, a kind and smiling Nazi officer who likes milk
• They have tension: we don’t know how the gangsters’ argument will escalate, the break in the fight makes us nervous for what will happen next, a Nazi interrogation is always tense
• They’re based around character interactions/dialogue: the diner scene, the fight, and the interrogation

After that, chat voted on this pormpt for us to write our own Tarantino opening: On their first date, 2 people talk about their own fatality, which leads to the realization that this is also their last date because one of them is on death row and about to be executed.

Here’s what we came up with:

Jenny sat down at the table inside Le Pomme de Terre, waiting for her date to show. She wasn’t used to meeting first dates in such a fancy location, usually ending up at some grungy Starbucks or Red Lobster where they tried to impress her by letting her have whatever she wanted on the menu. 

New flash, when the most expensive thing on the menu is a seventeen dollar cheese-stuffed crab, you’re not impressing anyone.

But this fancy French restaurant was classy. Jenny had to reach deep back in her closet for a dress that was neither Starbucks slutty nor Red Lobster raunchy, of which she did not have many. Thankfully the little black number she had on with some tasteful rhinestone sparkle worked just fine.

She glanced around anxiously, wondering if this might’ve actually been too good to be true, when Saphy practically glided into her view. The woman was stunning, holding herself tall and confident in a way that made her dark dress suit soak up all the light in the room, like the black hole at the center of a galaxy.

“Jenny, I presume?” she said, her voice smooth and tinged with a hint of aggression. Just the way Jenny liked it. Her face cooked hot and her mouth dried shut. She could barely nod, much less form words.

“Yes,” she somehow managed to squeak out.

Saphy smiled and sat down across from her at their small, private table. Lit cables sat between them, illuminating their small shared space in the dim light. All around, other guests chatted and clanged their silverware, but for Jenny it was just her and Saphy in all the world.

Jenny couldn’t think of what to say. Usually she was the forward one, leading the conversation. But something was different about Saphy: her face. Unlike other women who made-up their facades to hide their insecurities, Saphy was unafraid to show her edges. Her skin had a roughness to it, and her eyes were sharp.

Jenny always preferred the au naturele look. She’d take worms and rot over makeup any day. But she needed to say something, before Saphy lost interest.

“You said in your profile that you, uh, like dogs,” she said, doing her best not to fidget with her hands. “I have a dog. His name is Sniffles. He love sniffing around, helping me find things. Do you want to see some pictures?”

Jenny reached into her purse for her phone, then glanced over at her date. Saphy was staring straight at her, as if she hadn’t heard a word she’d said and was analyzing Jenny with her eyes.

“You know what I hate?” she asked, a small smile curling on her lips. “Small talk. Especially first date small talk.”

Jenny didn’t know what to do. She held onto her phone, pictures ready to show, but the conversation was in Saphy’s hands now.

“Does that mean you don’t want to see Sniffles?” she asked. 

Saphy leaned in even closer. “It’s not a question of whether I want to see your little dog or not. It’s a matter of us being two humans together, capable of talking about anything, real or imaginary, in this entire universe, and what do we usually talk about? Pets. Movies. Celebrities. Maybe for once we could have a real conversation.”

It was as if she were speaking right to Jenny’s heart. She’d always been so awkward around most people, not knowing what to say or do, fumbling her way through petty conversations. Give her a wax statue or a taxidermied cat and she could talk for hours, but a real breathing human? She might as well be trying to talk with a sock in her throat.

Jenny put her phone back in her purse.

“How long do you think love persists for?” she asked, the words flowing from her mouth easier than they ever had before. Saphy raised her eyebrows and leaned back, barely blinking as she kept her eyes on Jenny.

“Now that’s a conversation worth having,” she said. “If you follow the Cher school of philosophy, then you believe in love after life.”

“Isn’t it life after love?” Jenny asked.

Saphy clicked her tongue and shook her head. “You’re asking the wrong question. It’s whether there is life after love, and I say no. Your life, or at least the life of that version of yourself, ends when that love ends.”

For one of the first times in her life, Jenny sprang with an answer. “I don’t think your life ends when a love ends. If anything, I think that a life ending is a chance for a new love.”

Saphy seemed impressed by Jenny’s response. She reached into her own purse and pulled out a cigarette.

“Do you mind if I smoke?” she asked. 

“I don’t,” Jenny said. “But I have a feeling the restaurant will. Isn’t it illegal?”

Saphy bit the cigarette and lit it between her fingers. “Like I give a damn about that.”

She sucked in the heat and blew it out as thick, white smoke, its tendrils connecting them briefly. Jenny usually choked on the smell of cigarette smoke, but there was something tantalizing about drinking in Saphy’s steam. It smelled of campfires and death.

“So how many lives have you lived?” she asked. Saphy laughed, then took another drag.

“Just the one,” she said. “And it’s going to be ending soon.”

“What do you mean?” Jenny asked.

Saphy pointed around the restaurant with the red lit end of her stick. “See these other chumps all around here? Some of them are your normal fancy pants diners, but the rest of them, they’re all here for me.”

Jenny glanced around the bright tables, little islands in the darkness. As soon as she looked over, several of the people in suits at other tables turned away, as if pretending not to notice her. In the corner, a woman brushed her hair behind her ear and murmured something to herself.

“They’re all my handlers,” Saphy said. “I get this one night out, as a treat, then it’s back in the hole tomorrow, where I wait for Dr. Frankenstein to strap me down and stick me.”

“You’re in jail?” Jenny asked. Saphy rocked her head.

“Better. Death row. Couple years back, I was an up and coming manager at some firm whose name you probably don’t even know. Doesn’t matter, they’re all the same. Rich boys on top, smacking the asses of the hardworking girls on the bottom. 

“Well this girl had enough one day, decided to do some smacking of her own. That soft daddy’s boy could stick his own hard thing in other peoples’ asses all day long, but he couldn’t handle a bit of lead blasted into his own.”

She took another drag on the cigarette, with Jenny staring at her.

“So you’re going to die, tomorrow?” she asked.

“That’s the plan,” Saphy said. “After I was a bad girl, I played good girl for ten years, and this is my reward. My last meal. Not something to eat, but an experience to savor.”

“But why me?” Jenny asked. “You could spend this time with anyone. Family. Friends.”

Saphy smiled. “You were the first to say yes. I put my dating ad out there, got your message, and took it as a sign. I’ve tried my whole life to live by my own decisions, and this is where it got me. So I figured I should try ending it by letting the universe decide for me.”

Pride surged through Jenny. She wasn’t going to disappoint Saphy.

“Where are you going to be buried?” she asked.

Saphy laughed out loud, the most beautiful laugh Jenny had ever heard. So rich and hearty, warmed by the smoke, all natural. She reached over to the empty wine glass and put out her cigarette inside with a sizzle and a hiss.

“Now that’s a good question for a conversation,” she said. “Topfield Garden. Already arranged with the family and ready to go. Like planning a barbeque.”

“I’ll come visit you,” Jenny said. “I’ll even bring some flowers. And a pack of cigarettes.”

To Jenny’s surprise, Saphy grabbed her purse, as if preparing to leave. 

“You know, there’s another reason I chose you, Jenny. For my last love, and my last life, I wanted to know how it was to be ordinary. And you, when I got your message, you were so, incredibly, extraordinarily, ordinary. I’ve spent my life chasing after success, and, by all means, achieved it. I’ve been famous, and infamous, and even my end will be extraordinary. 

“But for a moment, with you, I could experience a bit of the life of a normal person. So thank you.”

Saphy stood up, and so did most of the rest of the room. 

“Goodbye, my last love.”

Jenny watched as she strolled out of the restaurant into the darkness of night, half of the restaurant following behind her. Suddenly left alone, Jenny sat still, contemplating what had happened.

Saphy was beautiful. And she’d left thinking that Jenny was completely ordinary. She couldn’t help but grin. That was exactly the outcome she’d hoped for.

Quickly, she swiped on her phone, scrolling past the messages she’d sent to Saphy, the news reports she had open all about the murder, the court proceedings about her sentencing to the Lakeview Women’s Prison she’d spent the last decade at. All the things that had let her pounce the moment Saphy’s dating ad had gone up.

She made a note of Topfield Garden, and would keep an eye out for the next few days. Once the funeral was over. Once prying eyes weren’t around. Once she could slip some cash to the groundskeeper to come in and out at her leisure.

Jenny always liked getting to know her significant others before they took their relationship to the next level. Which was always difficult, being a necrophiliac.

Life ending was just a chance for a new love.

QUENTIN TARANTINO PRESENTS

THE GRAVEROBBER

Be sure to check out the video for a dramatic reading, and some hilarious chat contributions!

If you want to join us and help write a story by trolling in chat, or share your own writing for feedback, then we’d love to have you join us on Twitch.

And you missed the stream, you can still watch them on the YouTube channel or watch the full stream reruns.

Hope to see you next time, friend!

Featured image: unspalsh