By now we've come to expect Quentin Tarantino to attack every film in as loud and audacious a manner as possible. He splatters history with a splash of thick red fake blood, and does it with devilish grin. He knows his movies are going to push a few buttons. He knows there's going to be some people who complain about the language, the violence, or some assumed slight against someone's culture. We heard all of this nonsense after Inglourious Basterds, but Django Unchained is a much much tricker tightrope to walk because it deals with the issue of slavery, and Tarantino doesn't so much walk it as tap dance along it effortlessly.
There's no doubt that Tarantino's use of a certain racial epithet is going to be tough for some to endure, but to those people it's important to ask"Where the heck have you been all of Tarantino's career?" This is nothing new for him, and while some have dreamed up their own reasons as to why he's so free to let the N-word fly so freely, the real reason is the genre Tarantino chooses to emulate more than any other. His films pull liberally from 1970s blaxploitation where such harsh dialogue is common place. For me, it's laughable to see so many get angry at Tarantino for adopting the vernacular of the genre and the time period, when these same people have kept their collective mouths shut when others have done it.
Django Unchained is not, as some like Spike Lee have claimed, an assault on the African-American heritage or our ancestors. It should be noted that Spike, who I respect immensely, has not seen the film. Nor have many others who have been quick to voice their disagreements with it. Does that mean the film is beyond reproach? Of course not, but there are some out there who need to take a deep breath, relax, and not take everything so damn seriously.
The best way to take Django Unchained is as it was intended, as another blood-soaked slice of cinematic wish fulfillment, where those who have been proven evil throughout history get their just desserts in remarkably nasty fashion. Tarantino's not doing anything all that groundbreaking by exposing the ignorance of racism by taking it to the extreme, hence the overuse of the N-word and the brutality of slave treatment in the film. It's in the way he blends the moral rigidity and the vengeful aspects of American Westerns where he creates something unique and distinctly Tarantino-esque.
There's essentially three different stories being told here, each with varying degrees of success. All violent and filled with memorable characters who speak that machine gun Tarantino vernacular. It's 1859, and in a cold snowy night a group of slave traders are set upon by a Dr. King Schultz(Christoph Waltz). It's hard to take him seriously, what with his ridiculous carriage(it's too funny to spoil) and accent, and certainly the traders don't. He needs one of their slaves, a man named Django(Jamie Foxx), to help him find the infamous Brittle Bros. The traders refuse to give him up, some choice words are spoken, blood gets spilled in spectacular fashion, and the rest is history. You're going to know after this first scene if Django Unchained is a movie for you or not.
Having been the only one who can identify his targets, Schultz enters into an agreement with Django. Help him find the Brittle Bros., and he'll secure the slave's freedom. Schultz is perhaps the most interesting and morally ambiguous character of the entire film, the rest are stark black and white. Although he's clearly "good" by comparison to everyone else, he's also willing to hold Django's freedom at bay to secure what he needs. Since the Brittles are the same guys who hurt and abducted his wife, Broomhilda von Shaft(Kerry Washington), Django readily agrees with hopes of freeing her, and a mutually beneficial partnership is formed.
This is a movie about the ugliness of racism, and racism is all about power. Tarantino cleverly plays with our perceptions of power, from the equally ridiculous and terrifying slave owners who control their subjects through physical and spiritual dominance. But also we see the hierarchy within blacks, as well, in the reactions of the field and house slaves to the sight of a the freed Django riding a horse. Django's physicality and confidence is an unknown thing to the slaves, but also a source of bewilderment to the whites who struggle hilariously to figure out how to treat him.
While this middle chapter is often clever and frequently entertaining thanks to Waltz's dandified performance, Django isn't established as a very interesting character, and so it's difficult to invest in his quest. Tarantino seems to recognize this as well, which is why the story is frequently diverted so he can expose the stupidity of the American south unfettered. A riotous bit involving the Ku Klux Klan, already funny in their own way for their stupid outfits, doesn't really jibe with the overall whole and it's edited in a sloppy fashion. Similar to Tarantino's excellent revenge mash-up Kill Bill, some chapters rock on all cylinders while some reek of filler. A great deal was left on the cutting room floor, and it's probably safe to assume that much of it was chopped here.
It's when we get to the final act that business starts to pick up, as the dynamic duo close in on their targets and we're introduced to Leonardo DiCaprio's evil plantation owner, Calvin Candie. It's not often we see DiCaprio play the heel, but it's even more rare to see him get the chance to devour the scenery quite like this. His Candie is a complete ham, a supposed Francophile who apparently knows nothing of France. His favorite past time is Mandingo fighting, which involves two powerful slaves battling to the death. DiCaprio's enthusiasm is both amazing to watch and a little unsettling because our natural instinct is to root for him, but there's no grey area about Candie. He's pure evil, and delights in being so. The only character who might be more disgusting is Candie's house slave, Stephen, played with a suspicious eye by Samuel L. Jackson. Similar to Jews who readily turned in other Jews during the Holocaust, Stephen has readily turned aside his people and accepted his owner's vicious inhumanity for just the slightest hint of power, the power to at least be better than other slaves.
In typical Tarantino fashion, it isn't long before geysers of blood are spraying everywhere, literally at the camera in some cases. A little anticlimactic, perhaps because there's no clear cut target for Django's wrathful vengeance, the conclusion is nonetheless satisfying enough to have you wondering which era will be the target of Tarantino's unparalleled vision. One could say he's already put together a perfect cousin to Park Chan-Wook's revered "Vengeance Trilogy", but you know he's far from finished. There are plenty more villains throughout our history who never quite got the punishment they deserved. Whether this was Tarantino's point all along, he seems to be targeting those for which the punishment they received doesn't come close to measuring up to the crimes they committed. And if that's the case, Tarantino can dish out as much justice as he sees fit. Can you imagine what some of those same people who are complaining now would have said if Tarantino had held back? Even a little? They'd be complaining from the opposite end of the argument.
There's no doubt Django Unchained will be divisive. Its abrasiveness and racial ugliness clash violently with Tarantino's stylistic tendencies. But it's also thrilling, funny, and written with Tarantino's incredible ear for dialogue. He can make movies like this forever and they will never get old.
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