Few
directors working today have developed as distinctive a style as Tarantino.
When you walk into one of his movies or pop one into the ol’ DVD player, you
pretty much know what you’re going to get: genre riffs, an endless amount of
pop culture references, elaborate dialogue sequences, a meticulously curated
soundtrack, plenty of blood and violence and…well, just take a look at this
handy slideshow. The point is that you probably have already decided what
you think of Tarantino as a director, and whether you think he’s a modern
visionary or a self-indulgent hack, Django
Unchained, his latest cinematic pop art confection, is unlikely to change
your opinion. Though some of his stylistic tendencies don’t surface here (gone is
the usual segmented format, and his foot fetish is thankfully kept to a minimum),
the spaghetti western homage is signature Tarantino.
The theme of revenge has been
one of the biggest constants throughout Tarantino’s career. This time around,
he sets his sights on slavery in the American antebellum South with a tale of a
freed-slave-turned-bounty-hunter intent on rescuing his wife from a sadistic
plantation owner. It’s a thorny topic, though one not tackled nearly often
enough in film, and the question of whether Tarantino is being disrespectful in
using this ugly, still-painful time in American history as the basis for a
revenge fantasy is certainly valid (in fact, director Spike Lee has already
voiced his opposition to the movie and vowed
to boycott it). Still, there’s something refreshing about Tarantino’s
unflinching, in-your-face approach to the subject, his refusal to soften the
blow for fear of offending audiences, and at least he’s open about the element
of exploitation that inherently comes with depicting something like this
onscreen (what exactly makes Django any
more exploitative than, say, The Help?).
To be sure, this is not exactly the most comfortable experience you’ll have at
the theater this year; some scenes, like ones involving a pack of dogs and Mandingo
fighting, are downright excruciating to watch. If you can stomach the brutality,
however, it is a giddy, visceral and ultimately rewarding ride.
Honestly, if you’re relying on this man to teach you about
slavery, I think we have some other problems to worry about.
To start with, the film is a
visual treat. Shot using a color palette that’s often reminiscent of the bold
Technicolor of classic westerns, every image pops with a vividness and
immediacy that movies rarely achieve, searing itself into the viewer’s mind.
The cinematography of Robert Richardson, who also worked with Tarantino on both
Kill Bill volumes and Inglourious Basterds, explodes with a
vibrant dynamism that reflects the grit and intensity of the narrative. Stylistic
flourishes like quick zooms and the occasional slow-mo that would’ve been
distracting in less sure hands instead feel appropriate for a movie that
willfully eschews subtlety for unapologetic flamboyance. The distinctive costumes
and set design reinforce this, mixing a gritty, rustic atmosphere with a
flashy, contemporary edge.
However, no one is more buzz-worthy than Leonardo DiCaprio, who, in his
first supporting role in at least a decade and his first time as an antagonist,
plays Calvin Candie, a ruthless slave owner who sees himself as a businessman
and a proper Southern gentleman. This dichotomy, the way he disguises his
cruelty with an air of genteel prudence, makes him mesmerizing. While Candie
doesn’t take over the movie like Waltz’s Hans Landa did in Inglourious Basterds (and unlike the rather disturbingly charming Landa,
he invites not even a hint of sympathy), he’s no less of fascinating, live-wire
enigma. Though his Southern accent is a bit shaky at times, DiCaprio delivers
an absolute powerhouse of a performance, one of the best and most electric of
his career. His monologue on phrenology, reminiscent of Waltz’s instant-classic
speech on rats at the opening of Basterds,
is a showstopper.
Clocking in at two hours and forty-five minutes, Django is overly long, continuing an interesting trend in movies
this year, but Tarantino is such a pro at building tension that this isn’t a
major drag. In addition, by focusing on a single, central storyline rather than
on a series of interlocking subplots, he tightens up the narrative, where his
other works often feel bloated. Backed by a rich, evocative soundtrack, Django is a raucous, cheekily subversive
firebrand of a movie, rubbing our faces in one of the most reprehensible but
integral parts of American history and gleefully indulging our primal desire to
lash out in fury at what we see there. The result is immensely satisfying.
Photo Link:
No comments:
Post a Comment