Bullets, bullwhips and beatings produce slo-mo geysers of blood. Pistoleros launch into soliloquies on slavery and the German Siegfried myth.
Django Unchained is set in Quentin Tarantinos pre-Civil War South. Another indulgent movie from the cinemas reigning junk-genre junkie, Django mashes together 1960s Italian Spaghetti Westerns and 70s American Blacksploitation pictures.
Hey, he got away with a fantastical World War II Holocaust revenge picture (Inglourious Basterds). Why not a revenge for slavery romp?
Django the D is silent is a slave turned bounty hunter, a black man who gets to kill white folks, and they pay you for it. The film features a couple of Oscar winners Jamie Foxx in the title role, and Christoph Walz, who won his statuette for Inglourious. And were treated to the usual selection of Tarantino retreads character actors he admired in his video store clerk youth with comebacks from Dennis Christopher (Breaking Away) to James Remar (The Warriors.)
The players are in fine form. But the movie hes embroiled them all in is a hit-and-miss affair, at times an amusing reimagining of history, more often a blood-spattered bore.
It ambles between the over-the-top shootouts. But the renowned witty Tarantino monologues are weak.
In Django he over-indulges and panders to his audience. Hey, it worked last time. But by the time Tarantino himself shows up as an Aussie slave-driver (!?) in the third act, you may wish youd had a bit more Kool-Aid before sitting down for this one.