In the interest of avoiding spoilers, it seems reasonable to forego a traditional film review, and address the misguided outcry provoked by Django Unchained. For anyone interested in the former, the film is wonderful—five out of five stars. But this hasn’t stopped otherwise open-minded individuals to snap shut. So why, after the black community remained silent about the satirical nature of Inglourious Basterds, have people like Spike Lee and Tavis Smiley taken such a strong (illogical) stand against this masterpiece? SPOILER ALERT--it just might have something to do with appeasing the vernacular of the entertainment industry (some members of the industry).
What seems to be rubbing so-called civil rights activists the wrong way—whether or not they’re humble enough to admit it—is that Tarantino puts this “complex history” on full display for all to see. Throughout the film, the word “nigger” is used liberally by whites and blacks alike, and though the situation is dire for most blacks, it is clear that the word itself has lost some of its negative connotations. That is to say, black people refer to one another as “niggers” without appearing to mean each other any harm. Django repeatedly uses the word to describe himself, and it is only Dr. Schultz that seems hesitant to let it leave his tongue. No indication is given that Django has any less self-respect than any of the white characters—he has simply accepted “nigger” as an aspect of his personal vernacular. Of course, the same can’t be said about any of the white characters. They use it with malicious intent. But it doesn’t take long for the open-minded viewer to realize what’s really being exposed by the onslaught of casual and violent n-bombs. As the film carries on and it becomes harder for audience members to distinguish between the two “different” usages of the word, the prospect that there is indeed a benevolent way to say it becomes increasingly dubious. This, of course, is an incredibly thick pill to swallow for anyone who defends the word’s presence in nearly every rap song and Spike Lee movie—no one enjoys having his or her own moral inconsistencies put on display. But this doesn’t mean the answer is turning blind to the problem. Were that the case, the segregated society presented in Django might have persisted well beyond the nineteenth century. What if the white abolitionists had refused to look inward and take responsibility for their past wrong-doings? It seems safe to assume that most black people are glad this wasn’t the case, but it remains unclear why so many persistently refuse to take any responsibility for preserving racial divides—even while they implicitly embrace segregation, and seek to judge people based on skin color instead if character content. In order for American culture to put segregation in the past and fully fulfill Dr. King’s dream, there must be nothing in society that is designated “Whites Only” or “Blacks Only”—no exceptions. This is a simple truth, and it implies that the dream will be blocked from reality as long as racially-exclusive ownership and operation is bestowed upon one school, one restaurant, one bathroom, one drinking fountain, one trash can, or one word.
All this is nearly impossible to ignore if Tarantino’s film is comprehensively absorbed, and the vitriolic responses can reasonably be interpreted as subconscious realizations. Rarely does anyone react amicably to having a major aspect of their personal philosophy proven to be a fallacy—this is why some great movies make some people unreasonably mad (see Million Dollar Baby, Zero Dark Thirty). Unfortunately, it’s also rare for audiences to allow this philosophical evolution—also known as learning—to proceed naturally, especially when it pertains to things they feel certain about, or have a strong personal investment in. Second Amendment enthusiasts didn’t just dislike Bowling for Columbine—they got mad at it. The Dutch Muslim community didn’t just dislike Submission—they killed Theo van Gogh and threatened to kill Ayaan Hirsi Ali, turning her into a new generation’s Salman Rushdie. This isn’t because the content is grossly offensive, but because it is unquestionably based on empirical observations, and because the logical conclusion of these observations does not fit the preferred narrative. Before this is abetted any further, it should be remembered that slavery and segregation were both once the preferred narrative of the masses. If history has anything to teach us, it’s that people in Quentin Tarantino’s current position are usually on the right side of morality, and people in Spike Lee’s usually aren’t.
Unfortunately for Tarantino, the 85th Academy Awards are likely to be a repeat of the 82nd—he writes an incredible screenplay and shoots it in a vivid, innovative way, but is bested by Mark Boal and Kathryn Bigelow. He is sure to be nominated for both—and possibly for Best Picture—but in all likelihood, he will go home empty-handed. That Bigelow--and Tarantino--were ignored by the Academy doesn't change the fact that they performed at a higher level than all of their contemporaries, and it's worth noting that whoever takes home the Best Director Oscar, they will not have done a better job that Tarantino--like 2009, only Bigelow pulled that off. Early on in the awards season, it looked like his film was going to secure a Best Supporting Actor Oscar for a beloved Hollywood superstar (Leonardo DiCaprio, Brad Pitt), only to have the hype stolen by a German costar (Christoph Waltz, in both cases). In a weaker year, Jamie Foxx might have been a contender for Best Actor, but there are at least seven others in a better position—Daniel Day Lewis, Joaquin Phoenix, Bradley Cooper, John Hawkes, Denzel Washington, Hugh Jackman, Bill Murray. Either way, the film is incredible, with a potent underlying message. It's this message that forces the prideful among us to deny the film's greatness, but pretending Jesse Owens wasn't the best athlete in the world wouldn't have changed the facts--and neither do thoughtless, unruly complaints.