With that in mind, I figure
I might as well rank the movies I’ve seen.
It seems like a tradition to do that for end-of-year posts, and I’ll go
ahead and do the same. So, from bottom
to top, here’s how the movies I’ve seen stack up, with a one-sentence “gist” of
what I thought of each (and of course, in-depth looks under the Movie Magick
tab). Make of my thoughts what you
will…just don’t fire up your Hatred Engines.
This is a happy place. Usually.
#7: Cloud Atlas
Three hours of
philosophizing is a true-true way to test your patience.
#6: Prometheus
An awe-inspiring
adventure into an alien world…that is, until the plot happens.
#5: The Hunger Games
It’s far from hazardous
to your health (barring Katniss poisoning.)
#4: The Dark Knight Rises
You did well enough,
Nolan -- now, about that spinoff for Commissioner Gordon…
#3: Looper
Commendable merely for
not creating a time paradox with its existence alone.
#2: The Avengers
Do I really need to say
anything besides “Puny god”?
#1: Django Unchained
This one’s gonna
require some explaining…so let’s get right to it, yeah?
(WARNING: SPOILERS, as is my usual
standard. Also, this is going to take
more than one sentence, so you might want to kick up your boots and take hold
of a tall bottle of sarsaparilla.
Similarly, have your trusted six-shooter in your holster, because
there’s no telling when some varmint might hassle you, and you’re thrown into a
real hootenanny of a hoedown.
Being a pre-Civil War tough guy. Am I doing it right?)
I want to start this by saying I had no idea what to expect of Django Unchained. All I knew was that arrangements were made with a friend to see it on Christmas day -- a friend who I assume is a devoted fan of Quentin Tarantino -- and to refuse was to pop him, my brother, and the director on the chin. It was kind of a weird feeling, deciding not to look into the movie any more than spotting its rating on Rotten Tomatoes (87% at the time). I didn’t know what it was about besides “gunfights” and “general badassery”. I didn’t know who was in it. I hadn’t even seen the poster, or any commercials…though in the latter’s case, it seems like I only happen upon the very end of commercials to movies I end up seeing. In any case, I pretty much went in blind -- not a preferable feeling, considering that I’m the kind of guy who won’t pick up a game unless he has an intimate knowledge of every facet of its life gained via particularly-illegal acquisition of documents and dossiers.
Sometimes going in
blind is precisely as dangerous as you’d expect. Had I read up on movies like Legion or 2009’s Friday the 13th or 2011’s The Thing, maybe I would have spared myself some heartache (and a
headache). But sometimes -- once in a
while -- you not only end up pleasantly surprised, but outright thankful. Not just because the movie exists and you see
some real talent and passion on display, but because you’re experiencing it for
the first time.
Django Unchained is a good movie.
A good, great, fantastic movie.
In fact, you could close this page right now, because you not only owe
it to yourself to get out there and watch it, but I’d argue that you should do
so with an open mind unsullied by the praise I’m about to heap on it. Buuuuuuuut if you know you won’t get there in
time -- as you’re still in your bunker assuming that the Mayans’ forecast of
the apocalypse was just a few days off -- or if you just want a little
analyzing, then you can go ahead and read on.
So let me switch gears
and say this: unlike my buddy, I have a general lack of movie knowledge. There are not only a lot of “classic films”
that are lost on me (there was a girl about ready to DDT me because I hadn’t
seen Titanic), but the styles,
strategies, and nuances of an army of directors are lost on me. Well among them is Quentin Tarantino --
someone who I respect and can easily admire for his work, but not someone whose
works I know intimately. I’ve seen Kill Bill, but that was years ago; I
can’t remember anything in-depth about it, and it doesn’t help that I haven’t
seen the sequel. And I saw Inglourious Basterds, but I fell asleep
during it (it’s not something I’m proud to admit, but I was tired, and a nice
carpet is surprisingly conducive to sleep).
So if you asked me, “All right, what’s Tarantino all about?” I could
respond in one of two ways: “Durrrrrrrrrrrrr” or “He likes Samuel L.
Jackson”.
Now, in my defense,
there is something I heard about Tarantino’s style and M.O. a while back. I can’t say how true this is or how well I’ve
remembered it, but apparently Tarantino doesn’t like violence. When I told my brother that, he was
rightfully skeptical -- just as I was.
Even in my limited knowledge of his work, I know Tarantino has put out a
movie where dozens of people are cut down by a blood-speckled woman in a biker
jumpsuit. It’s like saying “I don’t like
chocolate” while simultaneously taking baths in it.
But if there is one
trend I’ve noticed/had pointed out to me, it’s that Tarantino is a fan of
conversations. Long conversations
between characters whose relevance to the matter at hand varies…greatly. I’ve
gotten a taste of it in the other movies I’ve seen, but nowhere is the “power
of the conversation” more evident than it is in Django Unchained.
And it’s not only the
movie’s greatest strength -- it’s likely the reason I enjoyed it as much as I
did.
The gist of the movie
is this: Django is a slave en route to his next destination, chained up to
fellow slaves and herded across the landscape by rough-necked traders. However, the timely intervention of the
“dentist” Dr. Schultz leaves the traders dead and Django unchained by the
doctor’s hand. His reasoning? Dr. Schultz is a bounty hunter, and he needs
Django’s help. He wants to catch a trio
of no-goodniks, and to do that he’ll need the info Django gives him -- what
they look like, chief among them. In
exchange, the doctor will give Django a cut of the money and freedom...and
thus, a partnership is formed. And so
begins their wild adventure across the south -- though I couldn’t help but
laugh at the fact that a subtitle had to pop in under the year 1858 to explain
that it was before the Civil War. Yeah
movie, I get it. I went to elementary
school.
Now, at that point I
thought to myself “Wait a second.
Hunting after specific targets?
This smacks a bit of Kill Bill.” But what’s important to note is that the hunt
for the band of bandit brothers isn’t what makes up the whole movie. In fact, that plot is over well before the
first hour’s even up. It’s not a movie
about hunting after some bad guys and serving justice; it’s actually more or less a rescue mission,
in which Django aims to find and rescue his wife, with the help of Dr. Schultz. This makes for a much more meaningful movie,
I’d argue; remember, Django is more or less a slave -- one given plenty of
liberties by Dr. Schultz, and eventually earning his freedom (or something like
it), but still a lesser man in the eyes of the white-dominated society. As cool as it would be to see Django and Schultz
gun their way to a happy ending, in the grand scheme of things their options
are limited. Societal pressures would
snuff out both their lives long before they got within even a mile of Django’s
wife Broomhilda. They may be the fastest
guns in the west, but all it takes is one shot from an angry grunt of an
incensed southern gentleman to give the movie an unhappy ending.
But this is the
clincher of their strategy, and the whole movie by extension: Django and Schultz’s
greatest weapons aren’t their ability to win gunfights with skill and
style. It’s their ability to talk -- to
converse, to calm, to con, to coerce, whatever they need to do. In fact, I’d even go so far as to say that
the gunplay isn’t the main draw of the movie at all. The real battles, and the real tension, are
held whenever two people sit down and have a discussion.
I’ve made comments in
the past about how video games could stand to offer more than just violence and
combat systems; likewise, I’ve wondered about the place (and excess) ofviolence in the medium. Both of those
points still stand. I recognize that
violence and combat are things that have their use, especially when it comes to
video games. But just as games like Catherine, 999, Katawa Shoujo, Mass Effect (to
some extent), and the Ace Attorney series all provide
alternatives to combat and violence to GREAT effect, so too does Django Unchained. It’s proof that you can succeed without an
over-reliance on wall-to-wall action -- and if games are going to take
inspiration from movies and become more movie-like, this is the example that
they need to follow.
Let me explain through the lens of Dr. Schultz,
who’s not only one of my favorite characters in the movie, but now one of my
favorites in movies period. There’s no denying that there’s something
callous and sinister about him underneath his pleasantries (ignoring the fact
that he’s a bounty hunter by choice, he had no problem killing a man in front
of his son). Even so, there’s something
genuine about his character. He’s
good-humored. He’s good-natured. He’s an all-around good guy who cares about
people, Django most of all. He’s no
saint, that’s for sure, but Dr. Schultz is still a good, good guy. If there was no Dr. Schultz, there would be
no Django; he gave the slave a chance to realize his full potential, and I got
a real sense of the bond growing between them.
I admit that for a little while, I was worried that he’d betray Django
and become the movie’s main villain, but thankfully my forecast was misplaced. He’s more than just an owner to Django; he’s
a partner, a mentor, and a dear friend.
Their bond alone makes the movie worthwhile.
But getting back on
topic, it’s the doctor’s linguistic ability that wins him the day. Ignoring the fact that it helps characterize
him, it helps him find peaceful solutions to deadly situations. While I wouldn’t say that violence is a last
resort for him -- barring a certain conflict near the end -- Schultz would
rather diffuse tension with a conversation than a bullet through the
head…probably. He’ll go to town on
bounties, but there’s no one else he’d shoot under normal circumstances; it’s
more than a little shocking to have him blast someone, only to reveal that the
person he shot was a wanted criminal -- with proof, no less, and after keeping
his word that he’d surrender peacefully.
In plenty of other movies (and games), if the hero was pinned inside a
saloon with a hundred guns pointed at every entrance, he’d just shoot his way
out with style and a liberal application of slow-motion. But Schultz’s preference to practical,
peaceable solutions works in both his and the movie’s favor.
Gunning their way to the
slave holder’s paradise Candy Land and rescuing the princess from her castle
Broomhilda would only spoil their chances at success. They need to use tact and cunning in such a
regimented society -- and by way of using that cunning, they create more
satisfying victories and situations than a well-placed bullet to the
trousers. Granted their plan doesn’t
actually work in the end, but
considering how freakishly close they came to pulling off a steal it’s a
noteworthy feat. Think about it: Django
and Schultz are two of the baddest dudes in antebellum America. Barring some incidents near the end, every
gunfight they get into is completely under their control, by virtue of their
incredible skill, craftiness, and preparation.
If this movie was just one awesome gunfight to the next, then yeah, it’d
have lots of cool moments, but it’d be a lot shallower as a result. A lot of tension would be lost, and
engineered through hit-or-miss elements.
Escalation would have to be employed frequently, making each baddie and
each set piece more bombastic than the last.
The idea would be the virgin sacrifice needed to free the action-heavy
lava beast from its volcanic prison…and then the volcano would fire rockets and
one-liners in every direction.
I’m exaggerating, of
course (only a little bit), but you get my point: victory in Django Unchained’s case doesn’t come
from gunplay alone. It helps, but that’s not the point of the
movie. The ability to communicate is far
more vital, and far more dangerous; even the mere opportunity to communicate,
and speak with someone standing higher up than you, is at once a privilege and
an idea that the movie notes. In fact,
the one time when Schultz resorts to using his gun instead of his words, he
ends up blasted. (It’s also worth noting
that his last words were “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” And also, his name is Dr. King Schultz. Dr. King Schultz. I see what you did there…)
While everything I’ve
mentioned up to this point has been to praise the movie, I’ll gladly admit that
it’s not without its flaws. The biggest
one that I can note is that its ideas very nearly kneecap the whole concept; in
spite of being the title character, for a huge portion of the movie Django
feels completely marginalized. If you
think of this movie as a series of dialogues -- a display of manners and
graces, and the clashing of wills through “verbal battles” -- then you’d expect
that in order to follow through on that idea the characters would have to talk
quite a bit. Schultz does. Django doesn’t.
That’s not to say that he never talks,
because he does; we get plenty of characterization, backstory, and development
from him. But for so long I felt like Schultz
was the one driving everything, and Django was just along for the ride (to the
point where I assumed that Django would realize Schultz -- as the villain --
was just stringing him along as part of a scheme). Schultz is the white one, so he gets to talk
freely to other white men. Schultz does
a lot of the organizing and setup, while Django is quite often there for
support. But I really started to take
notice when the duo visited Candy Land, and a huge percentage of dialogue was
between Schultz and Candie, a key antagonist…and all the while, Django just
sits there quietly. The most he
contributed was something for the camera to cut back to, showing off Jamie
Foxx’s remarkable ability to give steely glances.
But of course, that was
likely intentional -- a “functional flaw”, as I’d call it. There’s the societal issue that’s deciding
their moves long before they ever come up with them, of course. But you know that this is Django’s movie well
before the credits start to roll. Those
steely glances actually meant something. Django wasn’t just doing it to look tough or
cool; he was watching the conversations that transpired. Watching, and listening, and learning. You could make a strong argument that the
lack of knowledge amongst slaves (and other oppressed peoples, by extension) is
a means to oppress them even more; more knowledge opens up more possibilities,
and a life outside of slavery, after all.
So from the get-go,
Django is actually arming himself with knowledge from the moment Schultz took
him as a partner -- doubly so if we assume Schultz taught him things like how
to read off-camera. He’s a natural in
more ways than one; sure, he’s a fantastic marksman, but it’s very likely that
he’s a fast learner, and capable of picking up facts, concepts, and mannerisms
that’ll help him out in the long run.
And they DO help him out in the long run; when he’s on his way to a new life of servitude after a disastrous
shootout at Candy Land, it’s Django’s ability to speak (and con) that wins him
his freedom and lets him resume his rescue mission. In fact, it’s even more obvious that guns
will get him so far when said shootout at Candy Land ended with him giving up in spite of his fantastic
skills.
I’m not wholly
convinced that Tarantino doesn’t like violence -- there are guys in this movie
that get absolutely wrecked -- but he
is defensible in two ways. First, and
most obviously, he’s eager to suggest via this movie that violence isn’t always
the answer. It helps, of course, just
like a hammer or a screwdriver helps. In
the end, though, it’s just a tool -- something that can be used effectively to
get results, but only at the opportune moments.
Second, I’d assume that if nothing else, Tarantino knows how to use violence. It would have been easy for him to make Django Unchained a wall-to-wall sequence
of gunfights, or if not that then trimming the more sedate moments to make room
for them. But he doesn’t. He makes you wait for the action. He makes you earn it. He makes you want it. He makes you anticipate it, expect it, and
hope for it. It’s not a right to be
graced with a cinematic massacre, but a privilege -- and because of that, you
appreciate each grisly showdown more than you ever thought possible. It’s a very effective strategy, one that
emphasizes both elements of the movie without subtracting from either.
But with all that said,
and all my dissecting in mind, there’s more to Django Unchained than just dialogue. A fair number of things, really; Tarantino
and his crew have put together a fantastic movie with plenty to latch onto,
whether that’s in terms of ideas, presentation, or just some all-around
interesting characters. So without
further ado, here are at least four reasons
WHY DJANGO UNCHAINED IS A GREAT
MOVIE AND YOU SHOULD GO SEE IT
IN SPITE OF OBLIGATIONS TO FAMILY
AND FRIENDS THIS HOLIDAY SEASON
1) An impressive array of villains
You know me -- a guy
who likes his heroes. But as I’ve said
here and elsewhere, a hero (and the story, by extension) is only as good as his
villains. And as expected, Django Unchained delivers with
aplomb. Granted it takes a bit of time
for them to appear, but when they do they make their presence known.
I have to admit I was
tempted to call them “antagonists” instead of “villains”; in fact, I should
probably start using the former phrase more often because it carries less of an
“evil” stigma, and not every character that goes up against a hero is
inherently evil. But in the end,
“villain” is the best way to describe Calvin Candie, as played by Dom Cobb
Leonardo DiCaprio. Much like Schultz, he
carries himself with dignity and grace, and he has the expected mannerisms and
cordiality of a southern gentleman. But
as is the standard, it’s all a façade; ignoring the fact that he’ll gladly watch
two slaves fight to the death and casually let one of his fighters get torn
apart by dogs, all it takes is one little con by Django and Schultz to have him
reveal his true colors. He doesn’t just
start raging (and he DOES rage, believe you me), but he offers his rationale in
a surprisingly chilling, but overwhelmingly-effective monologue. To summarize quickly, you’ll suddenly have a
desire to do research on human skulls.
But even beyond Candie,
there’s a character who’s just as nasty, if not more (and that’s saying
something): Mace Windu Samuel L. Jackson playing the role of Candie’s
butler, Stephen. He may look and act
silly at times, but the level of menace -- and worse yet, competence -- makes him a legitimate threat, even if he doesn’t
pick up a gun. Also, it’s Samuel L.
Jackson. If you’re looking for a
character to shout loudly and swear a lot, you won’t be left wanting.
2) A movie that’s far, far funnier than you would have expected
What’s important to
note about the dialogue and conversations is that it’s more than just plot advancement,
character development, and proposal of ideas (not that those things aren’t important, mind). There’s plenty of funny dialogue and other
sequences that drew lots of laughs out of the audience, and certainly put a
smile on my face. I’m at a loss
describing just what was on display, and certainly ill-equipped to deliver it
in just the right way, so I’ll just say this: the scene with the rioters is
enough to qualify this movie as a comedy -- and a great one, at that.
3) DRAMATIC ZOOM INS!
Hey, remember the
Dramatic Chipmunk meme?
Yeah, that’s in this
movie. And quite frequently, at
that. It feels kind of comedic at times,
and almost a misfit, but…well, it’s not a game-breaker. It certainly lends a bit of charm, if nothing
else.
It’s also worth noting
that there are some other little tricks at play here. There’s a motif where blood gets splattered
on a white surface (flowers, a horse, a corsage), and I can think of plenty of
ways to interpret that (violence against white people, for one, and willingly
rejecting a life of purity in the case of the bounty-blasting Django and
Schultz). It’s very likely that I missed
other instances and other visual cues, but it’s interesting to see certain
things highlighted. Though it’s just as
easy to get set in your ways and assume that any time the color white appears,
blood is sure to follow. I figured that
Candie’s white cake or Broomhilda’s white shirt would see some serious damage
done, but nothing happened. Fancy that,
huh? Though in the latter’s case, it’d
be a kick in the teeth by a drunken horse to see anything bad…well, anything
worse happen to Django’s poor wife.
4) The violence
A few years ago I
remember talking to my dad about my impressions of a certain movie. I can’t remember what that movie was, but I can recall a statement I made: “You
shouldn’t go in expecting a lot of action, but even then it’s still a good
movie.”
And that’s certainly
the case here. There isn’t a lot of action, but what’s here is
potent, visceral, and stylish. Its
sparing use gives the movie the balance it so deserves. But most importantly -- even if it is
horrific, gory, unpleasant stuff -- it’s still kind of cool. Verbal battles are a potent tool, of course,
and I still stand by the opinion that it trumps straight combat. But you can’t have a movie about cowboys and
revolvers without people getting shot.
You just can’t. It’s worth noting
that there’s a certain level of discomfort on display with each bout of
violence -- whether it’s in a fight or otherwise -- but that’s the way it
should be. It lends a bit of “realism”
to the proceedings, and adds impact in ways that other movies (and by extension
games) fail to offer. If Tarantino
really is outspoken against violence, then this movie once again offers proof
to that claim. If not…well, then he
certainly knows how to stage a fight.
Also, there’s
dynamite. So, yeah, there are explosions
too.
I guess what I’m getting
at here is…go see the movie, guys.
I know I’ve said that
about pretty much every movie I’ve
talked about up to this point, but I mean it this time. You really can’t do much better than Django Unchained. If The
Avengers is the world’s greatest sandwich, and Looper is a soup with plenty of deeper treats hidden in the broth,
then Django Unchained is a full
Thanksgiving meal jam-packed onto a plate made of diamonds and easily
plucked-off dollar bills. It’s got
action. It’s got action. It’s got comedy. It’s got drama. Each element blends in nigh-seamlessly with
the next, and each element has been prepared and served with virtual
perfection. You’re not just getting
variety, but depth, a long-lasting impression, and most of all satisfaction.
I didn’t know what to
make of Django Unchained at the
outset. But I can tell you right now
that if I were to plot it on my SmartChart™, it’d be right around here:
Go see the movie. Consider it a belated Christmas present from
me -- and Quentin Tarantino -- to you.
Just don’t do what I did and turn your head away from the screen after
the ending credits.