So, I just got through watching Quentin Tarantino’s Django Unchained for the first time. I may be biased(and whose writing is not these days?), and my initial angst regarding the film might have tainted my ability to appreciate any portion of it, but, I did feel it was lackluster. The story of a slave named Django, played by comic turned singer turned dramatic actor Jamie Foxx, bound by love for his wife and purchased by a wayward and whimsical bounty hunter, while interesting, it just did not live up to the hype. The usual cinematic cosmetics that have made Tarantino respected as an artist as opposed to just a guy that obviously needs psychiatric help were not here. In place of the more interesting cinematography, we have a melange of hip hop and western tunes to help convey the idea that this is antebellum Texas and Mississippi. The overuse of the term “nigga” notwithstanding, and I suppose after sitting through all of Quentin’s prior works, I have become somewhat numbed by his liberties. This time around, he hides his quaint hobby of dropping the n-word behind the film’s supposed era — never mind the fifty odd anachronisms that crop up throughout the script.
I was not captured at all by the character of Broomhilda, played by Scandal star Kerry Washington. I am not sure if it was the sheer incredulity of a German speaking slave or just her almost callow and infantile mannerisms after surviving as an escaped slave and an obviously disobedient one. I expected at least a few inspired bits of Shola from Sankofa, no, I’m lying, I knew Tarantino wouldn’t be as accurate or as intrepid as to present a strong Black woman as a romantic interest. The writhing, wailing, and weak character reminded me of the stereotypical tragic mulatto role, not sure if they were going for that, however. But alas, I really don’t want to focus so much on the film as much as the impact of a film that really did not deserve as much fanfare.
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I was not captured at all by the character of Broomhilda, played by Scandal star Kerry Washington. I am not sure if it was the sheer incredulity of a German speaking slave or just her almost callow and infantile mannerisms after surviving as an escaped slave and an obviously disobedient one. I expected at least a few inspired bits of Shola from Sankofa, no, I’m lying, I knew Tarantino wouldn’t be as accurate or as intrepid as to present a strong Black woman as a romantic interest. The writhing, wailing, and weak character reminded me of the stereotypical tragic mulatto role, not sure if they were going for that, however. But alas, I really don’t want to focus so much on the film as much as the impact of a film that really did not deserve as much fanfare.
Continued Here
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