****/**** Image A Sound A Extras C+
starring Jamie Foxx, Christoph Waltz, Leonardo DiCaprio, Samuel L. Jackson
written and directed by Quentin Tarantino
by Walter Chaw If Inglourious Basterds was an ambiguous, brilliant indictment of “Jewish vengeance” wrapped in this impossibly canny exploration of violence through screenwriting, performance, and love of film, think of Quentin Tarantino’s follow-up, Django Unchained, as a glorious continuation of what has become a singular artist’s evolving theme. It demonstrates an absolute command of the medium, of what film can do when tasked to do more than usual, and it does it by being some of the finest film criticism of the year. If the Coens are our best literary critics, then Tarantino is our best film critic cum sociologist, and his topics, again, are how we understand history through specific prisms and how violence can be both catharsis and atrocity–often in the same breath and almost always in the same ways. Consider that this difficult film’s most difficult moment comes, as it does in Inglourious Basterds, at the very end, in an unbearably ugly act of violence perpetrated against not the expected slave-owner antagonist, Candie (Leonardo DiCaprio), but his manservant Stephen/Stepin (Samuel L. Jackson). Consider, too, the idea that vengeance–particularly in our post-9/11 environment–is the proverbial tiger we’ve caught by the tail: our cultural legacy that we try to justify through any means, given that our ends are so very righteous.
A spaghetti western on the surface, Django Unchained owes as much a debt to Leone as it does to the Sergio Corbucci-inaugurated series of films that gave it its name, with the recasting of the malleable Django (Jamie Foxx) as a black guy carrying with it the same kind of fissionable charge as the casting of Heathcliff as an African in Andrea Arnold’s Wuthering Heights. The revenge plot takes on a larger scope instantly: This Django is out to avenge not simply the abduction of his wife, Hildy (Kerry Washington), but all the evils of slavery, the thought being that all is forgivable given the extent of the outrage. But just like the torture debate that erupted around Kathryn Bigelow’s Zero Dark Thirty, the question posed by Django Unchained (not unlike the one Inglourious Basterds asks) is at what point do the moral compromises the avenger uses in achieving his ends actually diminish the moral ground of the aggrieved? For all its bombast and flourish, the movie’s lingering power comes from its introspection–from the reality, by the time the credits roll, that the only good whitey is a dead one (literally in one instance), as Django goes from purified by his victimization to stained by his rage. It’s Tarantino at his most subversive–pulling laughter from the holy slaughter of the helpless and dressing a key transitional moment with Jim Croce’s ’70s stoner affirmation “I Got a Name.” In a slavery epic’s terms, it’s perhaps not a big leap to go from “I have a voice” to “I have a dream.” Django’s dream is burning massah’s house to the foundation–though not until he’s butchered everyone in it–and celebrating by having his horse do a series of parade tricks in what has been for me the film’s most enduring, and haunted, image.
It opens with Django marching across a wintry Texas wasteland in a chain gang from which he’s freed by bounty hunter Dr. King Schultz (Waltz), who gives him the opportunity to earn a living “killing white folks.” Django’s ultimate aim is to reclaim his lost love, and it becomes clear in a brilliantly-scripted film’s best dialogue sequence that his wife is named “Broomhilda” and that Schultz sees his quest at least in some part as the fulfillment of Wagnerian destiny. Fair to say that however Tarantino butchers the Nibelungenlied, he divines a relationship between the sweeping concerns of Leone’s work (and the Kurosawa samurai flicks that inspired them) and Django’s quest across this unquiet historical landscape to wallow by the end in dismemberment and barbarism. It is in this way as sharp an adaptation as the Coens’ O Brother Where Art Thou?, capturing the sweep and intent of its myriad sources even as it strays, repeatedly and appropriately, into culturally specific byroads and tributaries. This is also Tarantino at his most playful as he allows slapstick in Django’s choice of clothing when given the chance, for the first time in his life, to dress himself; in a cameo by the original Django, Franco Nero, who assures our Django that he knows the “d” is silent; and in an extended sequence where Stephen objects to housing Django in the main house like an ordinary guest. That playfulness is there, too, in Stephen’s relationship with master Candie, which eventually takes shape as something other than genre homage. Tarantino is less a fanboy than Dr. Frankenstein by way of T.S. Eliot: In his assembly of something other from all these spare parts, he’s either a genius or a savant, I don’t know, but wholly without equal.
The tricky conflict Tarantino establishes in the film is between Django and Stephen (the one playing at “black slaver,” the other playing at subservient “Tom”) and, conversely, between Schultz and Candy (both reliant on and respectful of their black “partners” while working under the yoke of the master/slave dynamic). Django is a “free man” bound by the need for vengeance; Stephen is a slave, though it’s apparent that his standing in Candie’s household is one of “trusted confidante.” Stephen “betrays” his race; Django, in allowing great harm to come to a pair of “mandingo fighters,” essentially does the same. Stephen is interested in protecting his master and his standing, such as it is; Django is interested only in carrying his wife away into the unknowable future. The ills of slavery are ancillary (as they are in Lincoln, let’s face it), just as the ills of the Holocaust are ancillary in Inglourious Basterds; the question of the film is as simple as, What is permissible in the defense of honour and dignity? A picture very much about language, Django Unchained challenges the idea that words mean anything; a picture very much about actions, it challenges the notion that actions are by themselves meaningful. It’s unsettled and unsettling, and as it goes to black at the end, there’s the reminder that its heroes are as branded as the Nazi Landa. In this kind of bloody conflagration, no one gets out unmarked.
Should Tarantino keep his promise and Django Unchained be one of the last films he makes before retiring, what will remain is a body of work as vital and wise about cinema as any volume of critical history. Through this lens, the Civil War of The Good, the Bad and the Ugly comes into focus. Django Unchained also lends clarity to how Italian cinema, riding the cusp of American genre film from the late-’60s into the ’70s, gains definition as that country’s own “new wave.” The picture is in many ways the first and last word on an entire period–and there aren’t many movies in the medium’s history that can make that claim. The marvel of it isn’t that it’s smart–any number of films, every year, are as smart and self-aware–but that it manages its introspection without sacrificing its exuberance and, to a large extent, a certain unapologetic prurience. There were better films than Django Unchained in 2012, but none that I enjoyed more, none that caused me more often to question my prejudices and expectations, definitely none that used John Legend and Johnny Cash in the same sentence so well and to such tremendous, poignant effect. I hear there’s a five-hour cut somewhere out there, that it was originally conceived as a two-parter like Kill Bill. If these things are true, I don’t know that I could bear that much happiness. Originally published: December 24, 2012.
THE BLU-RAY DISC
![Django Unchained [Blu-ray]](https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/51NC2S1XhDL._SL500_.jpg)
by Bill Chambers Distributed by eOne in Canada and Anchor Bay stateside, the Blu-ray release of Django Unchained presents the film in a 2.40:1, 1080p transfer best described as high-fidelity. Shot in 35mm Panavision (nice to see Quentin Tarantino and DP Robert Richardson working in true ‘scope again following their overdue return to the format with Inglourious Basterds), the picture has softish detail that revels in lens aberrations and focal distortions. Dynamic range is impeccable, and though colours come close to crushing in the more luxurious hues of the Candyland palette, magnifying the image reveals a wealth of texture within these intense shades that probably resolves better on monitors larger than my 46-incher. Note that the second, “southern” part of the film was graded to evoke the brilliant saturation of the Technicolor IB process, while the “western” section has a slight purple-cinnamon finish that looks very natural or photochemical on the small screen. Grain is token except during flashbacks, which were shot on reversal stock and pushed to exaggerate grain and blow out contrast. Presented in 5.1 DTS-HD MA, the mix too is faithfully reproduced on this disc. Most of the songs were notoriously sourced from Tarantino’s own vinyl collection, but I’ll be damned if I detected any hiss or pops (Douglas E. Winter observed the supernatural care with which Tarantino must treat his records in a recent VIDEO WATCHDOG column), and the great title song from the 1966 Django, whose sonic limitations were exposed in a 250-seat auditorium, sounds marginally less brittle at home. As in the Kill Bill volumes, bass is sharp and visceral.
Disappointingly, there are no deleted scenes on the platter, and after being ubiquitous in the press when the movie came out, Tarantino all but sits out a batch of extras that begins with “Remembering J. Michael Riva: The Production Design of Django Unchained” (13 mins., HD). Riva died unexpectedly during shooting of the film last year (the only one of many production setbacks discussed in these supplements, alas), but not before completing work on the sets or recording the talking-head excerpted liberally here. Colleagues describe Django Unchained as something of a dream project for Riva, and the piece ends on a storefront façade bearing his name. “Reimagining the Spaghetti Western: The Horses and Stunts of Django Unchained” (14 mins., HD) is mostly about the horses, fourteen of which fell on cue in the wagon explosion thanks to genius, nth generation stunt coordinator Jeff “Dash” Dashnaw. Tarantino pops up briefly to explain that he placed the American Humane Association’s seal of approval at the top of the closing credits to put nervous viewers at ease, and then we meet quick-draw artist Thell Reed, who some enterprising individual should make a documentary about. Lastly, “The Costume Designs of Sharen Davis” (12 mins., HD) finds Davis breaking down her wardrobe concepts, receiving occasional reinforcement from actor soundbites. She made me realize the film wasn’t nominated for a Costume Design Oscar and wonder why. A Django Unchained soundtrack spot and a preview for the “Tarantino XX” Blu-ray collection round out the eOne BD; trailers for Red 2 and Now You See Me cue up on startup. Both editions include DVD and Digital copies of Django Unchained.
165 minutes; R; 2.40:1 (1080p/MPEG-4); English 5.1 DTS-HD MA, French DD 5.1; English SDH, French SDH, Spanish subtitles; BD-50; Region A; Anchor Bay/eOne
Caught it today, avoided all reviews beforehand, and am pleased, but not the least bit surprised, that you bring up what I also felt was the crux of the film.
Yes, Stepin Jacskon did awful things, took full advantage of his elevated “house nigger”/confidante status, for sure. Ending the film as QT did [spoilers] with black on black violence raised all sorts of sticky icky questions, and as you alluded to, was hardly the only pointed critique QT threw into this stew of the black experience not only in the film’s time period, but the ramifications from then until this very day.
Kudos for Samuel for taking that role and playing it full hilt, as a lot if his roles are excalty what Foxx’s Django ended up at the end of the film. The film, for all it’s surface rabble rousing moments, raises a cuntgaggle of conundrums with regard to capitalism, the psychological/sociological scars of what slavery has wrought and continues to reverberate from it’s inception to today.
Everyone, per usual with QT, brings exactly what they need to their performances, with Waltz’s winning hamminess, DiCaprio’s pomp and flair, Foxx’s brilliant, low key quiet rage boiling eventually over the surface, Goggins cracker ass cracker funny scary skeeviness, two roles for always welcome James Remar, Don Johnson’s genial racism…the list goes on to include everyone, and Jonah Hill continues his winning streak to boot).
I can’t recall a rabble rousing film successfully incorporating so many instances of queasy thought provocations and questioning of the actual implications of what the film is showing us.
I heard about the longer cut as well, and while I would jump into the fire for a chance of seeing that, I did feel that one could go the opposite way and edit it down to make it tighter, to excise some bits to emphasize the thorny questions raised throughout. Not being an editor, it’s hard for me to guess what Menke would’ve brought to the film, as the editing was generally pretty sharp, but I dunno, I think the finished film would’ve been a bit better in that deparent with her hand. Also noticed that Lawrence Bender wasn’t listed as producer – is this the first QT film where he wasn’t involved?
If this and Inglourious Basterds is QT settling into his elder statesmen dotage, I hope he never gives up the ghostly images of cinema.
Great stuff as usual Walter, and thanks to you and Bill for getting two reviews out in one week (along with Angelo’s damn nigh unassaible breakdown of ZDT. Please, keep them coming, as this week’s crop of reviews proves y’all are still amongst the best in the business.
Ugh Chaw you are such a bipolar douche. You give the hobbit a half star and this anti-white PC claptrap four stars? You do realize there options between 1/2* and ****? Worse still, this review isn’t the least bit entertaining. Couple that with more run-on sentences more masturbatory madlib abuse of adjectives and you just have to love to hate the schizotypal reviews of Mr. Chaw.
First: long time FFC/Chaw fan. Don’t worry about the loudmouthed haters. Your enthusiasts are legion.
**** SPOILERS AHEAD ****
So about this movie. I saw it yesterday. It’s really entertaining, thought provoking, beautiful and exciting to look at. But I have a major qualm about the Waltz character’s climatic decision to plug the Leo character rather than just shake his hand. Besides as a plot necessity, to set the final-act Grand Guignol in motion, I and the friend I saw the movie with couldn’t between us make that climactic decision make sense. It’s senseless in the moment, and runs against the grain of the Waltz character’s whole motivation throughout, an eminently pragmatic self-preservation instinct, along with a strong respect for Django and even Django’s welfare; yeah, the dog attack changed him, but to the extent that he’s willing to throw ALL his scruples out for one little cathartic murder? I don’t buy it. Can anyone give me a reason to think otherwise? I’d like to.
Also — nitpicky — but man, the Tarantino cameo was awful. Just a grinding halt. His posture, his face, his costume, his Aussie (!!!) accent–he was like some schlub they pulled out of Customer Service to stand in. It was pleasing to see him get blowed up, but overall, eesh. Bad decision there.
Still a good movie, but I still think Basterds is better.
@ B – check out this interview that QT conducted with Mike Ryan of the Huffington Post regarding your question of the motivation and reasons of Waltz’s character in that scene.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mobileweb/2012/12/20/quentin-tarantino-django-unchained_n_2340987.html
@ B careful not to choke on his cock
Having now seen the film, with a full audience reacting…differently than Walter did…I feel like Walter’s review points to intentions Tarantino might have had, but did not pull off with the audience. The toughest moment is hardly when Django kneecaps Stephen, and part of it tied back to the way Jackson plays a slave in 1858 like Ordell Robbie. (Candie is his Melanie…Stephen trusts Candie to be Candie). I “get” that Tarantino’s making a commentary that blacks did and still do turn their abuse and subjugation into a petty fight over who gets more scraps from the white power structure. But the contrast in the Foxx/Jackson performance is so much more embedded in movie archetypes that the actual point — and thus the supposed horror of the kneecapping — is lost on audience. It’s easy to say, when they’re howling at Jackson’s squeals, that they’re too dim/cinematically immature to “get it,” but this is no art film; it’s a populist, big Christmas release. There’s some onus on Tarantino to not get lost trying win Jackson an Oscar (he won’t even get nominated; Leo will) and get the depiction right.
And Tarantino can say whatever he pleases about the mechanics of Waltz’s character — his unwillingness to “lose” to Candie — but, again, it’s not on the screen. Schultz has to shake the man’s hand, and everything we’ve been led to believe to that second in the film suggests his priority is to get out of there with Hildie. And he was out of there. Tarantino’s description reminds me of a great football coach who was just sure he had the right playcall until something went wrong, and still wanted to prove he was right.
Tarantino had the same problem in Kill Bill; we never do see any evidence that Bill’s a great swordsman, and the scene that would have proved it is left on the cutting room floor. You spend four hours with those characters in that movie, and Tarantino cheats on the final sword fight, giving some garbage rationale for it.
I like the guy. I like his work. But his ambition and ability to spin pretty about the flaws in his films outruns the actual final product. And it has since Jackie Brown.
You guys are arguing about the difference between “characterization” and “Character”. The characterization he is given is of a self-preserving egoist. But the choice’s the character makes, that drive the plot, runs counter to this, there’s something in the character of either him or django that make Stephen become a more virtuous man. This is really intentional, not sloppy, and it definitely part of how the movie is attempting to work. If he was as self serving as he appeared, would he have helped Django to start with? They established how dangerous Mississippi would be– why help him? He also makes a comment about being bored — and we saw this is a rouse to fool Candie, but maybe there was a little truth to it and Stephen was tiring of his successful life as a bounty hunter– he wanted to stand for something eventually.
I meant to say Shultz and not stephen