Awards Season: Django Unchained, a history steeped in blood

Quentin Tarantino’s latest blockbuster hit Django Unchained tracks the story of one slave turned bountyhunter as he searches for his wife and seeks revenge for the injustices that were brought upon them. The film may have been a cinematic success, with five Academy Award nominations and counting, but its plot comes from darker and more sinister sources. Olivia Johnson looks at the literary heritage of Django Unchained and the tradition of slave narratives that have influenced its style…

Poster for Tarantino’s “Django Unchained”

The cinematic power in Tarantino’s Django Unchained comes from its realistic and savage depiction of slavery in 19^th century America. Brutality, powerlessness, even self-racism – themes which pervade the film – are so moving and believable to audiences because they stem from authentic sources. Such difficulties are highlighted in the narratives of the slaves. Anyone moved by the film should also take the time to read some of the literature contemporary to the slave movement. The biographical slave narratives are the true testaments to a bloody and horrific culture and convey the raw pain of servitude.

Django’s rise from oppression is the crux of the film. At the beginning of the film, he is physically unchained by a man, Dr. King Schultz, who Django soon joins as his fellow bounty hunter. Yet, more appealing is Django’s retribution, which comes at the climax of the film. One man against several, he successfully defends himself using logic and skill in marksmanship, until he is forced to stop by threats made against his wife. At the very end, he once again relies on intelligence to revenge the death of his mentor and escape a free man.

The underlying theme, which is so attractive to audiences, is that physical strength and prowess in fighting is the ultimate tool to beating oppression. In many ways this was true; often, brute strength was the only means to power in a savage world. In the narrative of Frederick Douglass, the man is also forced to undergo a similar feat, beating his master in physical combat when he attempted to assault him. Such basic, savage acts draw the admiration of the reader because it is drenched in imagery of good versus bad. It is once again David against Goliath – though both may be matched in strength, prejudice against Douglass, as a slave, weighs him down considerably. When Douglass wins, the victory is as poignant and powerful to the readers as it must have been to the man himself.

The tragic and ironic depiction of self-racism is another powerful element in the film. Samuel L. Jackson’s portrayal of Stephen, the loyal house slave to plantation owner Calvin J. Candie reflects another, far more disturbing motif. Stephen is a visual manifestation of an “Uncle Tom”, an epithet which has come to depict a person who is excessively subservient to figures of authority, even to the extent that they become an active participant in the oppression of their own group. In the film, Stephen as an “Uncle Tom” serves his master to the detriment of Django and the household slaves; he condemns the slave Broomhilda’s attempts to escape, encourages her horrific punishment and is key in Django’s capture. The “Uncle Tom” stereotype came from spin-off works from Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Yet, ironically, the original character of Uncle Tom is very different.

Harriet Beecher Stowe: “Uncle Tom’s Cabin”

 

In Uncle Tom’s Cabin, the titular character is in fact show to be a martyr, who died by refusing to reveal the whereabouts of two women who escaped from slavery; an ironic reversal from the film’s depiction. Like the film, the book also depicts the savagery of slavery – the slaves are cruelly beaten, stripped of almost any identity and even forced to turn on each other. Yet, while Django Unchained conveys scenes of violence against, and between slaves, the protagonist is liberated from oppression, acting as his own agent for most of the film. The book contains the realistic horror of lives confined within claustrophobic quarters. However, the book’s conclusion does satisfy a modern audience to a certain extent. Tom is killed, life goes on, and the readers are filled with a grim acknowledgement of the transience of life in a world where the death of a slave is a common, justifiable occurrence. However, with the journey of two of the characters, Cassy and Emmeline, into Canada, the reader is left with a certain amount of hope and the certainty that Tom’s sacrifice was not in vain.

It is essential that each of us remember the horrors of slavery, which happened not too long ago, so that we do not repeat them. In the same sense, it is important to remember and mourn for a series of lost generations, as well as to acknowledge, even admire, the attempts by individuals like Frederick Douglass to overcome oppression. However, in terms of enjoyment, it has to be said that Django Unchained is far more satisfying as a form of entertainment than many of the slave narratives because it provides us with something they cannot; a cathartic, albeit unrealistic, ending. Tarantino forces us to uncover and remember the brutal past, yet with the victory of the protagonist at the end of the film, exorcises those shadows.

To see what Exeposé Online Screen made of Django Unchained, follow this link:

By Olivia Johnson – Exeposé Online Books Editor
Ed. by Georgina Holland – Exeposé Online Books Editor

Review: Django Unchained

Jess O’Kane, Senior Screen Reporter reviews the hotly anticipated Django Unchained, the latest Tarantino feature to attract controversy for its explosive treatment of history.

A disconcerting fact has come to my attention: it is now impossible to talk about a Tarantino film without referring to the man himself. He has, it seems, become a kind of hipster Stephen Fry, only more closely resembling a potato.

Image Credit: Columbia Pictures

Such is the mythology of this man that he lends his films a kind of aura; an expectation of madness and greatness that few directors working today can command.

It isn’t surprising, then that the opening moments of Django draw upon a recognisable iconography; wide red credits cut straight out of a 70s slasher roll, while a rousing corrido sings of the trials of our hero.

But of course, this never was just a Tarantino film; directly inspired by the violent spaghetti westerns of Sergio Corbucci, it combines the horrifically cool anti-heroes we’ve come to know and love with a surprisingly traditional aesthetic.

That said, the film still very much carries the mark of its director, with a predictable lust for violence that would make the bravest Southern Belle falter. Tarantino’s style suits the period like a glove; an era of such moral complexity lends itself well to the conflicted heroes he creates in Django (Jamie Foxx) and Dr. King Schultz (Christoph Waltz).

Image credit: The Guardian

The central premise of a slave recruited by a white bounty hunter to viciously murder plantation owners for money is satisfying in a laden white guilt sort of way. And yet at times there are touches of insincerity in its approach, particularly in the frustratingly two-dimensional character of Calvin Candie (Leonardo DiCaprio), which left me cold.

Is Tarantino moralising? Is he desecrating? Is he making up for a disgusting segment of American history? What we are meant to believe, if anything, is never clear.

What keeps it afloat is the quality of its central performances, which buoy an often convoluted plot. We’ve come to expect nothing but brilliance from Waltz since Inglourious Basterds, and this second partnership is no different.

Here, too, he is freakishly elegant, happily blowing heads off here and there whilst posing as a cheerful dentist. Waltz has a preternatural capacity for playing reasonable men who commit frightening acts with great sophistication and intelligence, and he makes the perfect partner to Django’s own confliction.

Image credit: Rotten Tomatoes

Foxx shines as the lead, lending Django a vulnerability and passion that forms a coherent emotional centre in amongst all the blood and boot spurs. Still, he’s an effortlessly cool anti-hero whose conviction is strong enough to allow for the 3-hour running time.

Oh yes, I did say 3 hours. But then this is a film that is both epic in heritage and ambition; as much a warped expression of love from a Western fan to the past as it is a mad, bad Tarantino classic.

What it relies on – and what it eventually delivers – is the impulse to trust in the motivations of its characters. In particular, the storyline revolving around the capture of Django’s wife, Broomhilda (Kerry Washington), is frequently nerve-shredding and eventually satisfying, even despite Broomhilda’s vastly underdeveloped character.

Image credit: Hollywood Reporter

But the biggest surprise comes in the form of Samuel L. Jackson, who plays Stephen, an Uncle Ben lookalike and lifelong servant of Candie. Jackson’s hobbling, wild-eyed form is at once threatening and vulnerable, and his complex relationship with his master shows Tarantino at his most thoughtful.

Indeed, it’s obvious that a lot of thought is at work here; there was never a moment that seemed unjustified or misplaced. Nor, too, did the treatment of the period seem distasteful or unrealistic, despite its eccentricities.

There will still be some people who question Django – its violence, its treatment of slavery and its motives, and it’s true that it is at times a little incomprehensible.

But you know what? I really didn’t care. After all, this is Tarantino, and when faced with his bizarre brilliance we can only sit back like wearisome parents and watch him raise hell.

My Rating: 4.5/5 stars 

Rotten Tomatoes Critics’ Average: 4/5

Jess O’Kane