Tonight, Tarantino is sitting on his couch and watching Night Call Nurses, a Roger Corman production from the 70s. “It’s a sexy version of Three Coins in the Fountain, ” he explains, going into genre mode. “Corman made about five of these movies and Night Call Nurses is my favorite. The ‘Nurses’ cycle is a subgenre. It’s really a T&A movie. Other T&A movies are cheerleader movies and beach movies. The dark subgenre of T&A movies were Corman’s ‘Women in Prison’ movies.”

Tarantino’s one-bedroom apartment is a pop-culture playground. There is little furniture—a chair, the aforementioned couch, and a coffee table which is covered with videotapes, scripts, and magazines. A 50-inch TV dominates one side of the room. “For a year and a half I did not have broadcast TV,” he says. “I used my TV like a monitor.” On the mantel are dolls—an Ilya Kuryakin doll from The Man from U.N.C.L.E., a John Travolta doll, a Boy George doll—and some awards, including two bronze horses from the Stockholm film festival. “I’m big in Sweden,” says Tarantino.

There are framed vintage movie posters hanging everywhere, a large bookshelf in the dining room (“I would study Pauline Kael’s reviews like class assignments”), and an even larger bookcase in the bedroom which is packed with videotapes. Tarantino collects lunchboxes, preferably from TV shows of the 70s, and he has a closet full of board games based on TV and movies. Neatly stacked are Thunderball and I Spy and Baretta. There’s also a Grease game and a Welcome Back, Kotter game. “I played myself in both games,” recalls John Travolta. “And I won. Both games.” Tarantino is thrilled at the memory. “Playing with John was cool,” he says. “It’s my dream to do a Reservoir Dogs game.”

The light in the apartment is dim, and it has the comfortable feel of a cool, cluttered cave. “Let’s watch the movie,” Tarantino says. “I had a total fantasy about working for Roger Corman,” he says. “I thought, I’d be really good and do everything and then Roger Corman would say, ‘Quentin, you can direct a “Women Behind Bars” film.’ And I’d make the best ‘Women Behind Bars’ film ever. That was my fantasy, but he didn’t have a job available.”

Night Call Nurses is a fine example of the Corman oeuvre—like all his films there’s a mix of sex, nudity, and political consciousness. Tarantino is quite taken with the brunette nurse. “There are always three,” he explains. “A blonde. A brunette. And something ethnic.” He seems to be equally captivated by the screenplay. Tarantino howls when the brunette nurse tells an ardent suitor, “Maybe if we went someplace else, someplace where I felt more comfortable, more at home,” and her would-be boyfriend counters with “Like your home, for example?” “Great line!” Tarantino exclaims. “I can use that!”

“Quentin loves popular culture,” says his friend Roger Avary. “It extends to lunchpails, games, TV shows, and especially movies. He knows everything about popular culture. But his greatest strength is his greatest weakness. He is only interested in pop culture. For instance, he would refuse to see The Bear. Because he hates bears. It’s about nature, and nature has nothing to do with pop culture. The one problem people have with Quentin’s work is that it speaks of other movies, instead of life. The big trick is to live a life and then make movies about that life.”

Tarantino vehemently disagrees. “To me, the danger of making movies about movies is when Hollywood makes the same movie over and over again—a black cop and a white cop, but this time in Tijuana. Or it’s Die Hard on a bus. And I can enjoy those if they’re done well, but they’re not original. There’s always been a ton of movies that make movie references. But I’m making movies I haven’t seen before. Except for rare moments, I’m superconscious not to be analytical when I’m writing or directing. I only want it to apply to the work after the fact.”

Night Call Nurses has rewound, and Tarantino has popped in another tape, a documentary on Roger Corman. But it’s getting late—around two A.M.—and he has to work on *Pulp Fiction’*s sound mix tomorrow, so he can’t watch all the way through. He pushes the stop button on the VCR. “We’ll watch it later,” he says, sounding distracted. He is paying attention to what is now on the TV screen. It’s a Japanese monster movie being shown on Mystery Science Theater 3000. Two girls, one in a bikini, are being chased through the streets. “I know this movie,” he says, as if there was any question. He watches for a moment. It doesn’t matter how absurd this film is, Tarantino is riveted. It’s a movie, after all. What could be better?