It was entertaining if one likes Tarantino movies but if real historical accuracy, or even believable "accuracy" is one's criteria it fell a bit short. It felt more like a throwback to the movies when gunslingers were deadeyes just by pointing their revolver. He tries to infuse a spaghetti western feeling into it, there is even a song by Ennio Morricone, but it fell just a bit short. Or maybe it got sidetracked by Quentin's fascination with violence just for the sake of violence.
Picking a few nits to start out:
The slave can read. Not well, but he can read. It was against the law to teach a slave to read, so how did he learn?
They moved around the country like they had air fare. I've never seen people get from the West to the East to the South so quickly in a time when pioneers needed three months to get from St. Louis to Oregon. Plus, where were the Indians during all their travels around the West?
Django sure could shoot, but nobody else could. His cap and ball revolvers grouped better than a Freedom Arms. And they sure were powerful. Those little balls of lead went through two guys at a time splattering a quart of blood out of each one. Except when they were aimed at Django, then a human body made a great shield. At least the revolvers only held 6 shots each, that was a key part of some scenes.
But if you suspended reality for a while, it was vintage Tarantino. Quirky characters, ultra violence and ultra liberal use of words not uttered in polite company. And I have to say the man does know how to make a movie and tell a story, even if you might not like the story he tells.
They used quart sized squibs for gunshot wounds, the blood splattered from people like a large can of tomato juice hit by a .25-06. The front room of Candyland was literally painted red by the final gunfight. Everybody dies. I mean, everybody dies. Except Django. Sorry if that's a spoiler.
DeCaprio was good as a slimy guy, Jamie Foxx was okay as Django but he always seems too wimpy to be a real badass. When he spoke I kept seeing Ray Charles up there.
Samuel L. Jackson was great. Nobody cusses as convincingly as Samuel L. Jackson. When he calls someone a goddam [bleep]*ckin' n*gger, enunciating and infusing each syllable with malicious venom and pure hatred, you can really feel it.
Some folks will like the movie just to hear the word "n*gger" spoken aloud and with feeling about 200 times in a 3 hour period. Those same folks will hate it because they kill all the white people. When the body count is about as high as you think it's going to get, they go out of their way to find extra white people to kill.
I think Quentin's masterpiece will always be Kill Bill Vol. I and II with Pulp Fiction a close second, but this gets an A for effort.
