For a film about hate there’s plenty to love about Django Unchained but not necessarily a whole lot to like. Burdened by gimmicky revisionism and insincere storytelling, Tarantino exploits yet another black period of modern history then renders it tasteless with heavy-handed white cheese supremacy. It may be disguised as an outstanding tribute to spaghetti westerns but this is Inglourious Basterds all over again only this time it’s American slavery playing the role of the Nazis.
Set two years before the Civil War, Tarantino sets out to create the greatest African-American hero in the ol’ sou’west by unshackling the sorry depiction of negroes in classic westerns. He achieves this masterfully, producing a film with astonishing technical and textual prowess but where Tarantino opens the dialogue on the shamefulness of slavery his use of parody and hyperbole could just as (mortifyingly) easily be interpreted as justification as to why dem n-word savages needed to be locked up in da first place.
Christoph Waltz plays Dr King Schultz, a German-born bounty hunter who whips up a living by killing wanted men and cha-chinging the reward. He tracks down chain-gang-banger Django (Jamie Foxx) and sets him free in exchange for his help identifying three brothers with a hefty price on their heads. As Schultz’s accidental apprentice, Django gets a taste for shooting honkies and convinces da bossman to help rescue his enslaved wife, Broomhilda. Intelligent film-making turns screwball when Django turns vigilante and almost loses his nuts.
Tarantino’s attempt at social commentary is like throwing a gun at two prisoners and telling them that whomever kills the other with the single bullet walks free. An intriguing game of amorality gets played out but in the end nobody really wins. As you’d expect from a Tarantino film, the violence is as savage as the screenplay but the value of both are let loose amid 165 minutes of incoherent meandering. Django Unchained isn’t as slick or taut as his earlier films and even though the lengthy running time is tolerable, it does wander over some laborious ground.
Perhaps the weakest element of the film is the mute characterisation of Django’s German-speaking wife, Broomhilda (named ironically after the mythological German princess Brȕnnhilde). Uncharacteristically for Tarantino, whose past work has boasted some fierce femme fatales, Broomhilda is a vacant, expressionless zombie void of emotion and spark. She never appears worth rescuing or, for that matter, particularly willing. On the other hand, the ludicrous characterisation of plantation owner Calvin Candie (Leonardo DiCaprio) as the effete Francophile who doesn’t speak French, and Stephen (Samuel L Jackson) as his dog-loyal race-traitoring servant are both exceptional.
Tarantino himself probably best summed up his directing of Django Unchained during his recent infamous rant on Channel Four. Within minutes of claiming responsibility for launching a dialogue on the issue of slavery in Django Unchained he just as vehemently denied any responsibility for the implications of the violence. In other words, he brings plenty of meat to the table then just pushes it around with his fork. By the time he makes his likeable cameo as a simpleton with an unexplained Australian accent (a side commentary on the treatment of Australian Aboriginals, perhaps?) you begin to wonder what exactly it is that Tarantino is trying to say.
The excellence of Django Unchained as a satirical spaghetti western is easy to appreciate. Value for money is in the size of the serving which certainly looks appetising, but it is overcooked in parts and not all that easy to swallow. Worst of all, beneath all the sauce Django Unchained is sorely untethered.
Starring: Christoph Waltz, Jamie Foxx, Leonardo DiCaprio, Samuel L Jackson, Kerry Washington, Don Johnson, John Jarratt, Jonah Hill
