Monthly Archives: January 2013

Django Unchained

Django: The sun is shinin’ bright.

Calvin: As it does, on all of us.

There, in one of the many ironic moments in the film, Di Caprio’s character Calvin summarizes, in one sentence, the universality of this earth to all its inhabitants.  And there, it has a distant echo with Kannadasan’s “காற்று நம்மை அடிமை என்று விலகவில்லையே! கடல் நீரும் அடிமை என்று சுடுவதில்லையே! காலம் நம்மை விட்டு விட்டு நடப்பதில்லையே! காதல், பாசம், தாய்மை நம்மை மறப்பதில்லையே!” The ironies are further accentuated as a German Schultz (Christopher Waltz can convincingly play even Rajnikanth. Such is the majesty) is unable to take the German Beethoven’s music in a hostile environment and serves a French Calvin with a French Dumas.

The film bristles with such ironies and subtexts. Like a dentist Dr. Schultz having a golden molar tooth and speaking English better than Americans. Like Django shooting at a white showman. What a metaphor! What intrigued me was the relation between Schultz and Django. Did Tarantino ever subtly hint at a relation more than friendship? Schultz putting his straps on as Django eats in the mountains. Both of them on travel and Django takes a bath in a lake and sees his lost wife smiling at him. I could be stretching and my figment of imagination could well be Django’s.

The film also has scenes which no other director can make and get away with. Where Calvin cracks a skull and makes some pointed observations about how the part of the skull meant for creativity and imagination in a Newton or a Galileo points to servility in people of Django’s ilk, the observation readily agrees itself with Stephen (Samuel Jackson) who fits it to a T. Or the scene with KKK where one of the bird-brained members could well have been a Marshall from a previous scene who spits from under his hood in a sequence of bloody hilarity.

The most iconic moment for me is the one at Calvin’s mansion. The tension builds up. Tarantino promises a kill. There are guns. But things go on a rope walk without tripping. As everything seems sorted out, you see the scene fizzling out. Tarantino throws a googly. Calvin insists a handshake. Schultz refuses and eventually there is the bloodshed, over a refused hand shake, making for a fine study of the human ego.

Over and top of all of this, the film is a Sphagetti Western, entertains and, though not quite Tarantino’s best, is still bloody good.

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