It's Expertly Crafted, But It's So Depraved

Rating: 9/10 (5 January 2013)

Quentin Tarantino's mastery of the cinematic form is impressive, even inspiring, and his encyclopedic knowledge of film history - specializing in more obscure, less mainstream genres - informs his every frame with a stunningly rich vibrancy. Early in his career he was accused of outright theft of entire scenes from many of his cherished genre films, but as his art has progressed he has more deftly and subtly appropriated his curious sources into his own work. In Django Unchained Quentin is entirely in command of his inspirations as even his most blatant nods to other Western (or Southern) films are now so thoroughly re-imagined and re-crafted into his own vision that he's no longer guilty of any such petty crimes. No, his cinematic action is now all entirely his own. But in spite of the genuine draw dropping creativity on display throughout the entire film, there's still something seriously wrong. I'm referring to the violence in Tarantino's films, which is often exceptionally graphic.
Quentin has claimed that his use of sensational violence as a cinematic element is no more questionable than a Hollywood musical's use of singing or dancing. I wish I could agree with him, that graphic, gory, extreme violence in a film is no more objectionable an element than a high kicking chorus line, but that's a ridiculous idea.
Violence, by the fact of its deeply primal impulse, resonates in the audience in a very distinct, particular way. Whenever something exceptionally brutal occurs in a film I find myself instinctively reminding myself that it's just a movie, that it isn't real, and this of course takes me right out of the moment. I become aware that I'm watching a filmed cinematic expression of violence. This is not a good thing for a medium whose magical power is wholly dependent upon sustaining its delicate illusions. Django Unchained worked as a fantasy only as long as I was willing and able to suspend my disbelief, but its gratuitous, over the top violence repeatedly shook me from the dream.
Quentin has spoken to the fact that the actual violence experienced by real slaves was often much worse, much more shocking than what he has depicted, and this is very true. But the reality of the existence of gruesome violence in our mad, mad world is not justification enough to celebrate its romanticized, sensationalized recreation. If horrendous film violence isn't an inherently exploitative element in its own right, cynically preying upon that part of us that defies reason and decency, then those crappily made graphic exploitation films from which Tarantino draws much of his inspiration would never have made a nickle profit. But they did and still do, so cinematic violence for its own sake is an irrationally intoxicating force that, like graphic pornography, overwhelms any artistic or philosophical concerns. Whatever cleverness or ingenuity or seeming sensitivity his films express, they are somewhat undone by their own shameless antisocial depravity.
As a mature, intelligent, enlightened individual, Tarantino disappoints me with his continued fixation on the emotion of revenge and in extracting it in the most savage methods possible. He has wallowed in this revenge mode for the past 3 or 4 films, and though he's managed to somehow raise the already high bar of his creative and technical cinematic mastery with this film, I feel he's dropping the ball with his continuing adolescent preoccupations. So while artistically and technically this film is a solid nine I must deduct two full points for the indulgent and irresponsible violence. Though he does it with superior style and bravura Tarantino splatters his films with way too much grim, lurid, sensational violence.
I believe that a more violent culture is a symptom of a less healthy society. There's no law against the excessive, psychopathic, unrepentant display of violence in film, but it is a crime that Quentin now allows it to degrade his otherwise masterful art.