We cut to two men wearing black-and-white suits. There’s Vincent Vega with an earring and shoulder-length hair riding shotgun. The car is driven by Jules Winnfield, who’s sporting a Kurtis Blow Jheri curl that looks like it’s still dripping. Context and appearances tell us they’re criminals, likely on their way to do criminal things. Except they’re talking about … cheeseburgers? The metric system? Foot massages? The details of their job trickle out—they’re on the way to an apartment, where there are as many as three or four guys waiting, and those guys are possibly armed—but the specifics seem incidental. The appeal is everything else: the mundane and philosophical musings, the moral and situational what-ifs, the casual conversation between two guys about to do serious things. When it’s time to actually go to work, Jules turns to his partner and says, fittingly, “Come on, let’s get into character.”
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