Movie review: "Django Unchained" a tale of two halves

(165 Minutes, Rated R for graphic violence, nudity, language, and adult situations.)

(7 of 10 stars)

For years now, Quentin Tarantino has been lauded by friend and critic alike with many deserving and lavish terms. Brilliant.  Innovative. Pioneering. Unique.

Given my adoration of his early work, I wholeheartedly agree with all of those adjectives. But these days I have a few of my own to add. 

Confounding.  Frustrating.  What-the-hell-are-you-thinking?!?!

I know of no director/writer working today who is more talented than Tarantino. (And yes, I'm including Scorsese). Pulp Fiction and Reservoir Dogs are brilliant films and I can make a great argument that Pulp Fiction is a Top 10 Movie of All-Time.

But somewhere between that film and Inglorious Basterds, Tarantino lost his ever-loving mind.

His latest film, "Django Unchained," both encapsulates and showcases his brilliance as a writer and filmmaker, and conversely, his growing cinematic descent into a rather debilitating psychosis.

According to the film, the action is set somewhere in the South in 1858 and tells the story of a bounty hunter (adeptly played by Christoph Waltz) and a slave named Django, whom he enlists (also impressively played by Jamie Foxx) in order to help identify a group of wanted men. Once that task is quickly disposed, Django (pronounced "Jango" with the D being silent) asks his new partner to help find his wife, who is still a slave, and help him free her. 

By the way, as a complete aside, Quentin, 1858 is NOT two years prior to the Civil War as the introduction to the film states. The Civil War began in April of 1861. Yes, I understand this mistake could have been on purpose given this film is an homage to spaghetti westerns. More on that later. But this device does not work among those of us who are anal retentive.

Tarantino has always done a masterful job of devising plot lines and Django is no exception.  Seemingly, all his movies, this one included, immediately throw the audience into a highly-tense, exquisitely written first scene. His use of language is nothing short of a gift and I found myself buying into the story and feeling a child-like giddiness at the high hopes I had for the next two hours of my life. I mean, this could be the next Pulp Fiction, right?

No such luck.

Please do not misunderstand. The first hour of the film was outstanding. Tarantino does a nice job of devising plot twists and turns, but midway through the movie the plot stalls and stagnates.  Seemingly, Tarantino had a great idea and saw it start well, but like a thoroughbred starting too fast out of the gate this film limped to the finish line. He really had no idea how to end the movie, and in actuality it ended twice. Tragically, neither scene was very satisfying.

There was much to like about this movie. I appreciated the homage to the spaghetti westerns of the 1960s and early 1970s. The big, awkward opening credits that were just off the screen and mimicked the badly edited films of that period were quite funny, as well was Jamie Foxx sporting a flamboyant, albeit anachronistic, outfit early on in the film. But why is every Tarantino film an homage to something? He is capable of developing his own sub-genre.

But the actors — my god, the actors. I will say this: The man knows how to cast a movie. 

Christoph Waltz, winner of an Academy Award for his performance in Inglorious Basterds, shows us again that his abilities are nothing short of extraordinary. Playing a German-born bounty hunter, Dr. King Schultz, his plays his mannerisms and speech patterns as effete, but his nerves and confidence in his actions are deadly. He is very much deserving of his current Oscar nomination if not the actual award.

Jamie Foxx in the title role is also notably good. He is as expressive an actor, especially with his eyes. I could have gone my whole life, however, without seeing his junk upside down and been a happy man (now you gotta go see it, right?).

However, the performance of the film is given by Samuel L. Jackson, who plays the head slave on a plantation owed by Leonardo DiCaprio's character, Calvin Candie. The two actors generally shared screen time, and the contrast in performances is disparate. Where Jackson is alive and expressive, DiCaprio is sullen and disengaged. It was almost as if DiCaprio knew he was not cut of the same cloth as Jackson, and threw his hands in the air and said "give".

But Jackson was that good. This performance should have won him his first Academy Award (Really?  He hasn't already?) and the fact he is not even nominated is a tragedy.

Ultimately, despite the exceptionally good acting, despite the promise of its initial moments, and despite some very funny moments (there's a scene with Don Johnson as the head of a group of vigilantes who are trying to see out of their KKK-like hoods — and I took as a nice nod to Mel Brooks' Blazing Saddles —that made my sides hurt from laughter), "Django Unchained" is rather disappointing.  Not in the sense that I did not enjoy myself for two and a half hours; I did.  But disappointing in a greater sense.

This movie should have been something greater than it was. Tarantino has more writing ability in his little finger than many who are working in Hollywood today have in their entire body. He understands conflict and language so remarkably well. His challenge is that he needs to take his genre (and not some homage) to the next level.

We need to quit seeing gratuitous blood sprays and splatters. We need to quit seeing laborious speeches by A-list actors just because they want an Oscar-generating monologue (read: DiCaprio). We need to quit hearing the n-word when it is not necessary (even Richard Pryor before he died admitted he was wrong to use that word so much). We need to quit seeing Tarantino putting himself in his own movies (this one was especially and embarrassingly bad for him).

What we need to see is the brilliance he displayed so beautifully in Pulp Fiction taken to the next level. It's time for him to become Scorsese. The talent is there. For god's sake, Quentin, use it.

I give this movie 7 out of 10 stars.

About the Author

Who was that mysterious man you saw in the theater last night? You tried to get a look at him but he quickly disappeared in a puff of smoke, his cackle trailing in the air, leaving behind his calling card: a half-eaten box of popcorn and a lukewarm soda. He is Our Movie Reviewer named Tim!