Django Unchained

I saw it last night, prepared not to like it after I was turned off by the violence porn of the projection booth scene in Inglorious Basterds. That scene was sex via pistol, and I could just see Quentin Tarantino getting off on it. This was different. From the opening credits, I knew Quentin had lightened up. Django was more in the spirit of the final scene of Basterds, a giddy bloodbath in which the evildoers were splattered in cartoonish violence. The music helped, too, setting the spaghetti western tone from the start. 

Jamie Foxx was great, but Chrisoph Walz was better. I even liked Leonardo Decaprio, who has never resonated for me. Leo was fantastic in a total asshole role, playing against pretty nice guy type in a way that didn’t work in the Howard Hughes movie. And Samuel L. Jackson was also brilliant playing a self-loathing black man with nuance and total hilarity. It all just jelled. The violence was jokey, clearly an homage to Peckinpah, down to the almost fluorescent stage blood that exploded with each gunshot. All in all, a great pleasure.

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