Just see it

Rating: 9/10 (31 March 2013)

It was always inevitable that exceptional writer/director (and actor) Quentin Tarantino would do a Western. The gleefully grisly tone; the loveably amoral characters who stay true to an alternative sense of morality. Plot lines that elongate, intertwine, divert and snap short at their leisure. All in a heightened idiosyncratic universe of escapism where charming deal out gruesome deaths to foes, friends and passers-by as casually as swatting flies, and where the bold yet astute filmmaker runs rife with risqué creativity. It's comfortably close to his beloved gangster genre, but with more of the outdoors and a frivolous willingness to embrace its masculine excess. In rekindling a genre that's lain dormant for quite a few years, Tarantino has always embraced the nostalgic time period of the classic Spaghetti Western, adding the old grainy Columbia logo, old-fashioned cartoon custom-made credits and titles and a recurring strumming guitar theme song celebrating the titular hero.
It's through the protagonist and his personal plight that Django Unchained, like last year's The Artist, brings a defiant, retrospective modern theme to a stylistically old school picture. Yes, the brusquely exuberant filmmaker, who as a man is unexpectedly as mild-mannered and talkative as a geeky YouTube blogger, has controversially delved deep into the issues of black slavery and apartheid, in a film that's no less entertaining for it. This murderous gunslinger hasn't been driven to thoughts of vengeance simply over an old flame. Years of suffering in a world controlled by ignorant, corrupt Caucasians – revealed through rustically shot flashbacks that actually use nostalgia to add realism – has gradually seeded a bursting hatred of the privileged race that's finally unlocked, along with his dreaded shackles, by an unlikely humanitarian vigilante also interested in him as a business partner.
The business is, of course, that old staple of Westerns, bounty hunting, and the eccentric, smooth talking, tenacious German Dr King Shultz (the brilliant Christoph Waltz) has special need of Djan-go (Jamie Foxx adds layer upon layer to his characterisation with every scene) in his next pursuit, as his next juicy targets have gone undercover, and our hero, having had a bloodthirsty encounter with them before they were outlawed, is the only one who can identify them. The tricky doctor is one of those most priceless hedonistic characters whose conscience is muckier than a drainpipe, but whose heart, the audience can see, is in the right place when it matters. His causal killings abhor us no more than James Bond's, and, like Jack Sparrow, there seems to be no situation this invincible rogue can't talk, scheme or shoot his way out of.
He contrasts very sharply with our two other main despicable figures, who really do care for no one but themselves, however much they may pretend otherwise, and regard all people Django's race totally as brain- dead pawns, even though one of them is black himself. The vast middle section of the film is occupied by Fritz's and Django's nail-biting battle of wits with an arrogant, insulated wealthy businessman (Leonardo DiCaprio) and his jarringly sycophantic (an unrecognisably elderly Samuel L. Jackson) Negro right-hand man constantly echoing his master's callous commands to the other black servants, and laughing at his vile jokes made at their expense. It was quite a curious decision to cast these two naturally likable actors as two such realistically repulsive characters, particularly as when we first see the charming DiCaprio as Mr Calvin Candie, we have to immediately remind ourselves not to root for this character like we did with Jack Dawson and Arnie Grape, but he soon proves perfectly able – and quite exceptional in his more menacing scenes – but I had no idea I'd been watching Jackson on screen until I read the credits, and that is the mark of a truly great performance. From that very first, alarmingly potent shot of him looking at the lucky Django riding proudly into town on a horse, like a white fella, with Stephen's face full of chilling, resentful rage, it is a truly stunning portrayal of perhaps the most horrible character of the lot. Although, of course, the pleasing gallery of the heroic duo's small-minded prejudiced victims, moulded from the archetypal Western townspeople, is also effectively detestable.
Like all of the greatest and most popular depictions of serious social issues, Django is both heartily funny and brutally dark in equal measure, and often simultaneously. In casual conversations about Tarantino, he's often associated with extreme, vicious violence, and indeed, a few healthy blood splatters are vital to any Tarantino picture, but none of them are ever about the blood and the gore. As actual films, rather than conversation topics, they always feature good characterisations sharp dialogue and clever writing much more than they do gunshots. Just like in the celebrity head's scene of Inglorious Basterds (2009) or the fateful toilet trips of Vincent Vega in Pulp Fiction (1994), the inevitable big, glorious shootout in his latest film is the big crescendo to the mesmerising character interplay, and always has consequences explored in the following scenes. Yes, they are fun, both for us and for him, but they do not define him as a filmmaker any more than Grace Kelly, Janet Leigh and so many other blond actresses should define Alfred Hitchcock. These morsels are just the entrées to the meatier main course.
Unfortunately, though, those gory climaxes make it more difficult for underage viewers to get a ticket, but that certainly doesn't stop adults from getting in on the healthy fun on offer here.