Django Unchained

Over the past two decades Quentin Tarantino’s work has garnered a loyal and enthusiastic following most filmmakers would kill for, but for every new film to be saddled with so much expectation is hardly ever a good thing. After all, for every Pulp Fiction and Kill Bill Vol. 1, there’s a Death Proof and Kill Bill Vol. 2, two films which may be stylish and intriguing in their own right, but feel like crushing disappointments when compared to the ones that preceded them.

By the same token, Django Unchained faces inevitable comparisons with Inglorious Basterds, Tarantino’s alternative take on the WW2 flick which happened to be a big hit with critics, audiences and award shows alike. But ideally every film should be judged on its own merits, and while Basterds does at times cast a giant swastika-shaped shadow on this 21^st century western, it is safe to say Django more than earns its spurs.

In fact, despite all the Stetsons, horses and gun-slinging on show, there’s an appealing fairytale quality to Django Unchained. As pointed out early on by one character, the plot can be viewed as a loose retelling of the Teutonic myth of Siegfried, which sees a legendary warrior battle a monstrous dragon in order to save a damsel in distress. Change the setting to pre-Civil War America, switch Siegfried with a freed black slave and the dragon with a monstrous plantation owner and you’ve pretty much got your movie. Adding further to the straightforward appeal is the fact that Django also happens to be QT’s most linear film to date, with none of the chronological reshuffling we’ve been accustomed to in his previous work.

Much has been made already about the amount of violence and N-bombs dropped throughout the film, but given the historical setting, neither ever feels gratuitous. If anything, Tarantino is shedding light on a sad chapter of history that is seldom portrayed onscreen, especially when compared to the amount of holocaust films that are out there; he’s simply just doing it with his trademark, unapologetic vehemence. If audiences cheered at the sight of Jewish soldiers clubbing Nazis to death with baseball bats, it is only natural African American viewers will feel thrilled and empowered at the sight of Jamie Foxx beating a slave trader with his own whip. It is faux historical gratification, and an entertaining one at that.  

As is the case with Tarantino, it’s the characters that make the movie. Top of the bunch is no doubt the aforementioned plantation owner Calvin Candie, played with repugnant charm by Leonardo DiCaprio. A puerile emperor who takes great pleasure in forcing his slaves into battles like doomed gladiators, Candie is the wicked heart and soul of the film and just goes to show DiCaprio can play show-stealing villains just as well as he plays flawed leading men. What’s more, he proves to be Samuel L. Jackson’s best verbal sparring partner since John Travolta in Pulp Fiction – the scenes between Candie and Jackson’s cranky house slave Stephen truly are the stuff of comedy. Christoph Waltz is enjoyable as Django’s mentor Dr. King Schultz, but his presence is more due to his friendship with Tarantino than the likelihood of crossing a German bounty hunter in Mississippi in 1858.

And what about the titular slave and his damsel in distress? Well, they’re the weak links in the chain. All Kerry Washington gets is a brilliant name and hardly any dialogue as Broomhilda Von Shaft. It's a sore missed opportunity, considering Tarantino usually excels at writing cool female roles - and "Hildie" is no Bride, Shosanna or Mia Wallace. As for Django himself, it’s not that Jamie Foxx is necessarily bad as the stoic protagonist, he just isn’t quite as memorable as his co-stars – which makes you wonder how casting runner-ups Will Smith and The Wire’s Michael K. Williams would have fared in the role. Having said that, Foxx does manage to convey the required amount of virility to portray a convincing western hero; and there’s no denying he’ll get your blood pumping the moment he whips out his pistols and takes on a room full of goons to the triumphant sound of a Tupac/James Brown remix. Now that is quintessential Tarantino for you, right there.

4/5