How Jules Became the Shepherd: Redemption in Pulp Fiction
“The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the iniquities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he, who in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother’s keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee.”- Jules Winnfield
While writing the script for Pulp Fiction, Quentin Tarantino came across a dilemma regarding Jules (played by Samuel L. Jackson), one of his main characters in the film, and the famous monologue Jules asserts before killing his victims. Tarantino wanted to use a verse from the Bible, Ezekiel 25:17, but it wasn’t cold-blooded enough for someone like Jules to say. Tarantino wanted to induce fear in the scene, as Jules storms into Brett’s apartment and executes him and his friends. These guys were in possession of a briefcase, and Marcellus Wallace, Jules’ boss, sent two of the baddest men in California to get it back by any means necessary. Before emptying a clip of nine-millimeter bullets into Brett’s whimpering body, Jules recites this so-called verse from the Bible: Ezekiel 25:17. However, in obvious contrast to the authentic translation of the scripture, Tarantino’s rendition is a longer, more dramatic version in order to create a chilling atmosphere before viciously ending Brett’s life. Tarantino’s version, lifted from Sonny Chiba’s quest for righteousness in The Bodyguard, builds a sinister cloud around Jules’ final farewell to Brett.
Before Jules and Vincent go into the apartment, it’s important to get a feel for who they are. Before they pop open the trunk full of handguns, we assume that they’re just two normal guys talking about McDonald’s and foot massages. As the trunk opens, we get a low angle shot that makes the Jules and Vincent seem larger than life, as if they were supernatural. When it’s time to enter the apartment, Jules tells Vincent, “Come on, let’s get into character.” That specific line of dialogue shows that whatever’s about to happen in that room isn’t a true reflection of who they are, rather that they just have an unforgiving job.
Jules and Vincent arrive early, as if they’re preparing for a job interview. The men are well rehearsed, well dressed, and very goal oriented. Before they even open the door, Jules asks Vincent for the time to make sure that everything goes as planned. As soon as the henchmen enter Brett’s apartment, it’s clear that Jules is in full command of the situation. They walk in and immediately all eyes turn to Jules, and we can immediately feel the overwhelming despair shared by Brett and his friends. Jules cruises inside, handling his role with a smirk full of confidence. His black suit creates a sense of professionalism, proving that this encounter is strictly business. Even Vincent, Jules’ fellow henchman, takes his place in the kitchen and watches the event unfold, casually smoking a cigarette and observing Jules with a certain level of respect, creating a good cop-bad cop scenario, and it’s pretty damn clear who’s playing which role. Again, Tarantino uses a low camera angle, a frequently used shot in his films to establish a character’s dominance in a situation.
Jules teases Brett, mockingly conversing about hamburgers, calling them the “cornerstone of any nutritious breakfast”, and entertains his desperate pleas with a condescending attentiveness, interrupting his begging to nonchalantly shoot the man on the couch. Clearly, Jules wasn’t there to make small talk. He was there to collect lives. Even Vincent knew what was coming, as we can see in the background that he co*cks his pistol as soon as Jules begins reciting the verse. However, Jules follows no rules but his own. He enters the room and immediately establishes himself as the judge, the jury and the executioner. In this moment, he is the angel of death, arriving when least expected, draped in all black and appearing unannounced in the middle of Brett’s fast food breakfast.
Understanding Jules’ confidence leading up to Brett’s murder is necessary when comparing his dominance to his vulnerability seconds later. Soon after he finishes shooting Brett, a fourth man charges out of the bathroom, and in an act of pistol-wielding bravery, fires six rounds at Jules’ head. To the shooter’s dismay, all of the bullets miss their target by a fraction of an inch, and following a brief moment of collective disbelief from Vincent and Jules, the two henchman return fire until his lifeless corpse collapses onto the ground. When Jules shoots Brett, the camera is looking up, symbolizing Jules’ dominance over Brett. When the man emerges from the bathroom with his “hand cannon”, the camera angle is even with Jules’ line of sight, illustrating his vulnerability in a situation he thought he had full control over. Awestruck by a God-given miracle, he suddenly tells Vincent that his life was saved through an act of divine intervention.
Leaving the apartment, Jules begins reflecting on his life. He adamantly vows that he will leave the life of the hit man behind, now appreciating his existence like never before. “Don’t blaspheme. Don’t f*cking do that”, he screams at Vincent. Vincent’s cynicism makes him an interesting foil to Jules. He dismisses the thought of divine intervention. In the end, this revelation ended up saving Jules’ life, as he got out of the business at the right time. Vincent’s constant skepticism, however, cannot be ignored when we see that he dies soon after, making the element of religion crucial to the comparison between the characters.
During the diner robbery, Jules is faced with a challenge. He has a gun in his face, and Ringo is demanding the briefcase. This scene is important because we can compare it to the previous scene in Brett’s apartment, where it was Jules pointing a gun in someone’s face and demanding the briefcase. It’s almost like God is testing him to see if he’s really changed. After turning the tables on the duo’s robbery to protect the contents of Marcellus’ dull yet clearly valuable briefcase,), he sits Ringo down and starts talking to him. His tone is much different than it was when he was talking to Brett, as he is clearly sincere rather than smug. His change of clothing is representative of his changed ways as well. Before, the hit man’s suit symbolized his place in a world darkness, but in Jimmy’s borrowed Krazy Kat t-shirt and gym shorts, Jules doesn’t have to live up to that expectation. When Brett tried to negotiate peace with the hit men, Jules stood over him and smiled mockingly, motioning him to sit back down, saying “There’s no way your ass is talking your way out of this sh*t.” With Ringo, his demeanor is the complete opposite. His facial expression is serious, and he isn’t getting pleasure out of his control. He tells the couple that he wants to help them, not kill them.
In Psalm 23 of the Bible, the shepherd is used to symbolize someone who takes care of others. The Israelites, practicing a pastoral economy, are merciful and loving, always protecting those those in need as if everyone belonged to a universal flock. This is the ultimate goal of Jules’ conversion: to become the shepherd. His transformation is similar to the biblical story of Saul who, after being blinded by God for persecuting followers of Jesus, vowed to change his ways for good. He took a new name, Paul, and lived the rest of his days as a devout follower of Christ. Sounds a lot like Jules transformation to me. Jules works as a deliverer of death, and only changes his ways after seeing the light that God provided through his close encounter with death itself.
Jules recites Ezekiel 25:17 to Ringo, with a much calmer voice than he had with Brett. He tells him that he’s had it memorized and has been saying it for years, but had never really focused on the meaning. He just “thought it was some cold blooded sh*t to say to a motherf*cker” before he “popped a cap in his ass.” He discusses three possibilities to its meaning, and decides that the best interpretation is that Ringo represents the weak, and that Jules is the “tyranny of evil men”. If Jules and Ringo’s conversation had taken place in the beginning of the movie, it would be fair to assume that Ringo didn’t live much longer after Jules stopped talking, as the impatient hit man probably would have blown his head off. But, Jules tells Ringo he’s trying to become the shepherd, not the tyranny. When Jules says this, it’s clear that this admission pains him to even say aloud. Jules has never been one to forgive, and although he’s trying to change, it doesn’t mean it’s easy to swallow. His encounter with Ringo was a true test of his conviction, proving how strongly he feels about changing his ways.
Jules transformation symbolizes a major theme in the film: mercy. Mercy is hardly shown from the characters, whether it’s Butch blasting Vincent into the shower with a silenced Uzi, or Zedd punishing Marcellus in a prison-esque manner, or even Jules enjoying Brett’s pleas for his life before ending it soon after. When we take an outer perspective of the film, we can see that those who don’t show mercy, don’t receive it either. Marcellus had been having people killed for years, so some may say he deserved what he got. Vincent denied God even after his life was spared, so in a way his death was justified as well. Needless to say, Zedd’s lack of mercy came back to haunt him, too. Jules’ adoption of a merciful philosophy ultimately saves his life, giving him the wisdom to leave that life behind before it’s too late. In the end, Ringo receives the same advice from Jules; a warning that this isn’t the kind of life he wants to live. For years, Ezekiel 25:17 had been Jules’ deadly mantra, yet only after coming face to face with death himself did he realize that the verse’s true meaning is rooted in the virtue of mercy.
Works Cited
“The Bodyguard (JAPAN 1973).” The Bodyguard (JAPAN 1973). N.p., n.d. Web. 22 Feb. 2016.
Tarantino, Quentin. Quentin Tarantino: Interviews. Ed. Gerald Peary. Jackson: U of Mississippi, 1998. Print.
