Marv, although not a character who has questionable morals, is very much a pulp character. His driving force seems to be his respect for women, but he’s not a nice guy by any means. He’s an alcoholic and he’s extremely violent. He wouldn’t lay a finger on a woman, but that doesn’t mean he won’t brutally cut off someone’s arms and legs and feed them to a dog while the victim watches. At one point, he’s driving a car holding a man’s face against the road.
Also, his voice-overs are extremely dramatic, their very film noir. He speaks directly to us, the audience. He justifies every move and action in his voice over’s. All the other characters aren’t as well developed, but still bring a lot of pulp to the story. Half the characters we meet are amazingly beautiful (and often scantily clad) women who are either whores are work in a bar. It doesn’t get much sleazier than that.
The other thing to note about the script is all the locations; they lend themselves well to the story. In one scene, there’s a large windmill, in another, it’s a run-down motel, in another its bar, in another it’s Marv’s room, which is still decorated for a child. None of the locations seem to belong in the story, but it’s how Miller exploits them that they lend themselves to pulp.
The last interesting part of the script is the world that Miller creates. It’s a mix of the post-apocalyptic future and the western. The police force seems like something out of the future, they are an army for whoever runs the city; in this case it’s Cardinal Roark, who although a man of the cloth, is the most evil man in the script.
What’s also interesting is that the bars play to cowboys. Cowboys run the streets looking for bars or for whores, there’s even a scene in the bar with a girl in chaps and a lasso. And what’s more is that all these characters in this world all own revolvers of some kind. None of the weapons in the story are state of the art. It’s either a .357 or a hacksaw or a machine gun. It’s an amazingly different mix of eras, but it somehow works under the grittiness that Miller cloaks everything in.
In closing, it’s Miller’s ability to keep the viewer constantly guessing, constantly surprised by the world he creates. It’s a world that the viewer isn’t too familiar with, and we don’t know where the boundaries are, and the film just keeps pushing them and pushing them, from a man’s face being chiseled off by the street, a boy named Kevin watching with a smile as a dog eats his limbs, or when a man of the cloth proclaims that eating people brought him closer to God. It plays off our fears and exploits everything it can think of, so that there is no question that it setting is