“ to me is a modern day “Spaghetti Western at times, and others its a literary master piece. Quentin Tarantino can be brutal with his writing, Django Unchained is no different and I loved every second of it.
Lets just say this was Quentin Tarantino’s best movie since Pulp Fiction. In my opinion. But lets forget about my opinion.
Today we have a special guest writer who will give his pure unadulterated review from the moment I asked him to attend the screening with me to the last sip of his liter of cola.
Hold onto your skives and let me introduce Michael N.
Django Unchained: A Spectacular Odyssey of Violence and Love
By Michael N.
It was a rugged white beast of a truck that catapulted me across town in rush hour traffic. My driver assured me that he was fromand that I shouldn’t be frightened of his aggressive driving style. We nearly demolished several tiny hybrid vehicles in our path to the Galaxy Highland 10, the tiny multiplex near the dying mall in central-ish Austin. It was 6:21PM, and we had a date with a , but first we had to do battle with time and the malaised drivers of this city.
We arrived to theat exactly 6:29PM, a minute earlier than planned. We disembarked the rabid truck the same as if we had just been on a boat – dazed and with the utmost caution. We composed ourselves and stared at the miniature consumer wasteland that surrounded us. Outside the tiny multiplex were troops of feral cats, all hissing and strutting in the lonely parking lot. We were cold, disheveled, and far removed from the fancy Alamo Drafthouse theaters we’ve all been addled by. At this point, I still had no idea of what tonight would bring, but it had already been an adventure.
Upon entering the theater, we bypassed the box office cashier completely. “No need for you today, fine sir, we have a date amongst the press.” The handles on the doors were greasy and the hinges squeaked as we entered. The theater lobby was empty of normal patrons, but was thriving with the hundred-or-so bearded men huddled next to theater #1. There were women here too, but they were absurdly outnumbered. Each person was predisposed to chatter, and each seemed to possess their own personal cheesy trough of nachos. Hearing that we would enter the theater soon, I quickly made my way to the concession. I spent a small fortune on a questionable beef frank and a portable keg of diet soda. Immediately after my purchase, it was time to venture into the darkness with the herd.
We found the most tragic of seats in the front of the theater. Our heads keeled up, like perverts stealing a glance up a dress. The anticipation of the seasoned writers, miscellaneous press, and critics was obvious. I cannot deny that I felt the same anticipation, for although I came in knowing almost nothing, the herd mentality was setting in.
Abruptly, the tortuous ads for TBS’sdisappeared and the lights dimmed. I had just finished my movie meal and drank a pond’s worth of my drink. Disgustingly content, I sat in my large chair. The theater silenced. The film began.
What happened over the next three hours was the induction of every emotion our silly bodies could conjure. The catalyst to this invocation was derived from a mix of symphonic mayhem and the incredible story of love and justice nestled within. Though the underlying sappy idea of love was a definite factor and driving force for the film, do not be mistaken that this love was a clean one. Nothing, my dear friend, can be clean when it is situated under a mound of bloodied corpses.
If there was ever an anti-hero, he was found here. Through the excessive maelstrom of blood and guts we befriend our film’s focal point, Django (Jamie Foxx), and realize that the term hero, may never be the same. Through his charm and determination, we learn the most basic truth of the film: Django is one bad ass motherfucker and this film kicks righteous ass.
The film was consecutive sequences of us asking ourselves, “How the fuck are they getting out of this?” Though our anxieties reached supreme championship levels, we were continually comforted throughout the film by the lovely little German man, Dr. King Schultz (Christoph Waltz). Through each controversial scene, Schultz relays to us the best truths and lays before us a steady path for our emotions to travel. As King as our guide, we believed the purpose and plot within the film. We were immediately connected with all the victories and defeat. There was an immediate whirlwind love affair with Schultz and we never tired of his presence.
What was unnerving, I will admit, about the film was how the antagonists so perfectly encapsulated the raw decay of society. The greed of man was never more apparent than in the literal ownership of another human and all the evils that follow. It was sickening to see this ultra-violent reality set before you, but what was even more disgusting was to know that this was a society with no reference or even the slightest realization of its own deep entrenched sin. Ultimately, what would have made any observer further frightened or unhinged, was the recognition that these were insanely once the major challenges in our own reality and country.
On the other hand, for every misdeed, there was legitimate justice to be heralded. There was a deeply referenced story of “love” in this film’s back-story, as well as one that grew before our fiercely entrenched eyes. This film did not contain normal love, but a mutated and violent love. If the possessors of this love were ever to lose it, they would give absolutely “zero fucks” to seek it out and get it back. It was a love that supersedes mere mortal want, and becomes a vital necessity of being. Through every decision, of each protagonist, there was a seed of this love present. Whether it is the love of a woman, or in an epic fulfillment of revenge, there would be no better reason to go through three hours of quite possibly one of the best films this year.
Django Unchained is not just a film, but perfect odyssey of humor, justice, love, and type of homage that only Tarantino could manifest. Like a wizard, he delivers a masterpiece. Through him, we have received one of the most morbidly ideal bits of entertainment that one could ever ask for. This Christmas, tell Les Misérables to Fuck off, and go see Django Unchained instead.
I give it a 5 out of 5 nerdskull rating.
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