I have been revisiting Quentin Tarantino’s oeuvre, going back to Reservoir Dogs; I figured my post sharing my thoughts on his Django Unchained screenplay would elicit the wrath of some of his fans, so I thought it wise to go back and watch all his films again, and arm myself 🙂

Anyway, in re-watching Pulp Fiction, a film that I consider his best to date, and that he’s never quite been able to match, the below scene immediately struck me when I finally got to it. In short, feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, but, given your reactions to previous posts on Django Unchained, I think this scene exemplifies the kind of physicality, brutishness, language, intent, and overall energy that a lot of you were maybe expecting/hoping to find in the Django Unchained script.

Not quite… unfortunately for you.

Granted, Marcellus Wallace just had his butthole plugged by whitey… unfortunately for him. But, Django’s emasculation comes in a different form. I dunno… which would you rather have if you are a dude: to be raped like Marcellus or be a slave like Django, in Django’s time, and have your woman taken away from you, and subject to all manner of mental and physical violation?

But while Marcellus has the opportunity to “get medieval” on whitey’s ass – payback in the form of all kinds of brutal and sadistic ways, done in an air of righteousness – Django doesn’t really get that same kind of, shall we say, pleasure, and thus, neither will you… if that’s what you’re expecting. Django doesn’t get to call up on “a couple a hard, pipe-hittin’ niggers” to go to work on their plantation masters “with a pair a pliers and a blowtorch.”

Sorry… instead, since Django Unchained is labeled an homage of sorts to Spaghetti Westerns, if you’ve seen enough of those, then you should have some idea of how this one ends… at least, your list of possibilities should be short.