Man on Film: Django Unchained

Quentin Tarantino is at his best when working in a man's world. His missteps (regardless of severity) occur when having his inherently masculine dialogue heavily funneled through female voices. It is through no fault of the females cast that these films are flawed; Tarantino simply doesn't write well in the female voice.

In Django Unchained, Tarantino is back walking through a man's world with men spouting his dialogue.

And it is superb.

The premise--freed-slave bounty hunter turns the Deep South at the end of antebellum upside-down with his German partner to free his wife--sets the stage for a deliciously bloody spectacle that Tarantino excels in--it was his panache in both the areas of hyper-stylized banter and over-the-top violence that arguably redirected the course of American cinema in the 1990s.

Using the superb Christoph Waltz, who is extremely likely to be getting at least another Best Supporting Actor nomination, and fellow Oscar-winner Jamie Foxx, Tarantino has a pair whose cause is extremely easy to rally behind. Hell, Waltz was charismatic and likable as the bad guy in Inglourious Basterds. Here, their tête-à-tête is so effective and engaging that the 165 minute run-time flies by, never once letting the film feel long. Waltz is fucking fantastic, and Foxx fills the shoes of badass bounty hunter with a quiet but sure swagger.

In support, or more appropriately opposition, the adversarial cast of Leonardo DiCaprio, Don Johnson, Samuel L. Jackson, and Walton Goggins play up their roles with aplomb. With the rest of the slew of racists being cast and directed for the purpose of hilarity, Django Unchained is cast impeccably well.

Just as importantly, Django Unchained is blessed with a near-perfect script, and Tarantino's eye for the traditions of the genre (loosely, the Spaghetti Western) in relation to the mise-en-scene make for a fantastic film--probably his best since Pulp Fiction. It is a whole lot of fun, gleeful in its destruction and righteous in the vengeance exacted and bounties hunted. It also manages to deal with the subject of slavery in a manner that highlights the atrocities of the slave trade while not taking a Spielbergian heavy-handed preacher's tack. The slave traders and owners are mostly slaughtered, and rightfully so, but it still plays like an extremely violent Spaghetti Western, proving to be a disarmingly effective approach to addressing the issue.

All in all, it is hard to muster up anything negative to say about the film. Even with its length, Django Unchained is one of the most fun films of the year, consistently rewarding from beginning to end.

Man on Film: Inglourious Basterds

After the two-hour anti-climax that was Kill Bill, Vol. 2 and the unwatchable section of Grindhouse, Death Proof, I have to admit that my expectations for the newest installment in the Quentin Tarantino catalog were pretty low.

Luckily, Inglourious Basterds wasn't overflowing with female characters for Quentin Tarantino for whom to write abysmal dialogue.

I think what warmed me up most for the film was hearing Tarantino on Fresh Air when the film was released. Coming across as far less spastic, hearing this interview was the perfect primer.

With over a week to separate myself from the film, I have to say that it was a welcome return to--well, maybe it wasn't a return to form, per se, but it was certainly a welcome return to the realm of entertaining filmmaking.

It had been six long years since I walked out of a theater having enjoyed a Tarantino release. A long enough time that I was beginning to doubt he'd be able to regain his touch.

While IB is perhaps a little long, it never crossed that line into the watch-checking family of three-hour films. No performances stuck out as being particularly flat (even that of Rod Taylor, the leaden leading man of the 50s and 60s who "starred" in such weak fare as The Time Machine and The Birds). Despite the complaints of some that Brad Pitt's accent was over-the-top, I thought it worked pretty well within the context of the film, and his speaking of Italian in his Tennessean accent was hilarious.

*******SPOILER ALERT*******

What is maybe most unique about the film, is the catharsis it is able to provide its viewers. Unlike any other WWII film, Inglourious Basterds sees Hitler graphically slaughtered by Allied Forces--his face ripped apart by a slew of bullets.

As for the violence: While it was graphic at times, I was a little surprised that it wasn't a little more hardcore. Maybe I have been desensitized to the point of it being disturbing that I was bothered so little, but I didn't really think there was that much to be shocked by. Sure, the scalpings were graphic, but there really weren't that many of them. Maybe it's fucked up that I laughed during one of them...

Whatever.

The movie was entertaining. That's what most movies are supposed to be. There's a little unconventional catharsis thrown into the mix. That's cool. You never know who's going to die or when they're going to get it. There is a tension that such unpredictability lends to a film that certainly helps its cause.

I can't say it's a flawless film, but so few are.

See it if you like scalpings and bludgeonings.