Hello y'all. Just would like to add my own little critique of this movie.
Django was probably the first Euro western i'd seen outside of the familiar Leone territory, and, at first i was a little dissapointed. So i watched it again, and again. Then it dawned on me just how cool it was, having been used to the choreographed pyrotechnics of much greater films(ie the leone dollars movies etc) this was a dirty, cold,bitter little movie where nobody really comes out on top, especially the movies protagonist. Yeah, i know he returned to kill and strike again, but this one stands alongside il grande silencio and Keoma as a really good example of a genre theme that would eventually be done to death. So what if it borrows from Leone? Don't forget where he borrowed from in the first place. Anyway, i would just like to say to anyone that has not seen this movie, give it a chance. One final note: in spite of our desensetisation to violence, this is still a stomach churning endeavour, with a body count like a hot day in france, and a sadistic bent that would make peter sutcliffe run for the bathroom, Django reaches parts that only a fistfull of broken fingers can!
Django was probably the first Euro western i'd seen outside of the familiar Leone territory, and, at first i was a little dissapointed. So i watched it again, and again. Then it dawned on me just how cool it was, having been used to the choreographed pyrotechnics of much greater films(ie the leone dollars movies etc) this was a dirty, cold,bitter little movie where nobody really comes out on top, especially the movies protagonist. Yeah, i know he returned to kill and strike again, but this one stands alongside il grande silencio and Keoma as a really good example of a genre theme that would eventually be done to death. So what if it borrows from Leone? Don't forget where he borrowed from in the first place. Anyway, i would just like to say to anyone that has not seen this movie, give it a chance. One final note: in spite of our desensetisation to violence, this is still a stomach churning endeavour, with a body count like a hot day in france, and a sadistic bent that would make peter sutcliffe run for the bathroom, Django reaches parts that only a fistfull of broken fingers can!