Well, I finally saw Django Unchained, and where to begin? I avoided it for quite some time because it seemed most everyone had already seen it, and a Tarantino film is not a thing I like to embark on alone. For one, I’d heard about the over-the-top violence, which seemed like a thing best taken in with a friend or loved one; also, Tarantino films tend to prompt a good debate — I fondly remember a two-hour post-Kill Bill Vol. 2 discussion at a Brazilian restaurant with two compadres.
Django Unchained is no different. In fact, it’s hardly a departure for Tarantino, but rather nestled right at home between the nods toward blaxploitation of early works like Pulp Fiction and Jackie Brown, the genre mish-mash of the Kill Bill movies, and the revisionist history of Ingloruious Basterds. It’s maybe the most Tarantino movie of them all.
A decade ago or so, the thought of Ben Affleck winning an Academy Award would have been borderline laughable, except it had happened already. Back then, as he starred in a string of flops such as Reindeer Games, Darevdevil, Jersey Girl, Gigli, and Surviving Christmas, it was all-too-easy to forget Ben Affleck, the Oscar-winning co-writer of Good Will Hunting. He was just Jennifer Lopez’s lesser half.