Django Reviews

It was the sixties and Italian filmmaker Sergio Leone had just unleashed two thirds of his legendary Man With No Name trilogy, making an immediate impression on an international level and single-handedly reviving the dying Western genre. As was often the case in the Italian film industry, a slew of imitators soon flooded marquees in an attempt to cash in to the craze. Amidst them was the story of a mysterious stranger dragging a coffin into a town torn apart by a war between a rogue group of ex-rebel soldiers and Mexican outlaws. The formula was every bit a knock off of "A Fistful of Dollars" but Sergio Corbucci's "Django", seemingly destined to live in the shadow of Leone's classic, would manage to carve itself a place in the hearts of cinephiles and go on to inspire many imitators of its own.

Django, played by the handsome and menacing looking Franco Nero, is an engaging figure from the get-go. It almost seems effortless how the image of this ominous stranger captures the imagination so promptly, with his mud-spattered Union outfit peeking from underneath a black overcoat. Then there's that coffin dragging behind him, a solid guarantee that the viewer will be drawn into the story. Cue the iconic theme (since reused in Quentin Tarantino's ode to Spaghetti westerns, Django Unchained) and you begin to understand why this movie stood the test of time.

"Django" is a product of its time and those not familiar with the trappings of Italian exploitation cinema might find it jarring to hear the lackluster dubbing that was par the course for these types of films. Persevere, I insist, for here is a film that has been mined for inspiration many a time while rarely being recognized by the mainstream.

Problematic dubbing aside (and truly this film should be redubbed by more capable voice actors and given the luxury of new sound work), the film is gorgeously photographed. You can't help but marvel at the rich blacks, the vibrant reds that flower when violence erupts, and that particular way that the Italians had of making the most deplorable of visuals look stunning and picturesque. Muddy, rundown frontier towns, barren cemeteries, and stretches of desert never looked so good. Truly, gorgeous photography aside, the film has shots that are just outright beautiful.

There are, however, issues that can't be ignored. For example, some of Django's machinations would of best been carried out in less troublesome ways. In this manner some of the film's set pieces seem more in service of spectacle than reason BUT that was part of the point of exploitation films of this nature. At the end of the day the film begs you to see Django do what Django does and to hell with some logic.

One feels the story behind Django's grudge with the film's major protagonist could have been more fleshed out as it feels rather anemic in the long run. Surprising, given that fare like this usually reveled in making the villain as loathsome as possible. Also, there is the issue of the love interest, a whore named Maria that Django saves and, subsequently, seems to largely be indifferent too. While the dialogue communicates Django's damaged psyche not allowing him to form meaningful relationships, what we see on screen makes the declarations of love from one party and the sudden need to care from the other rather unfulfilling.

Entering some spoiler territory we have the infamous coffin, so skip this paragraph if you wish to not know. What lies therein (a Gatling gun of the most curious design) is pivotal to Django's plans throughout and part of why he is such an efficient killer but you do begin to wonder why the filmmaker's didn't bother to at the very least explain the endless font of bullets from what appears to be the tiniest feed strips imaginable. It's an oversight that certainly deflates some of the scenes if you notice it.

With these aforementioned issues in mind, "Django" is a movie that might not play well to modern audiences but is an essential piece for any cinephile to watch at least once. In fact, by today's standards its approach to violence, sexuality, or the antihero mold will be mild if not downright tame. Nevertheless, some will seek it out for its eponymous connection with Tarantino's "Django Unchained" which takes inspiration from it (among others) but reframes the context entirely and creates something entirely different.

Instead, interested parties will maybe notice that the film has more in common with Tarantino pal Robert Rodriguez's Mariachi movies, namely the first two. Both of these have a mysterious stranger carrying a case that they claim defines them into a town held under the gun of some villainous party, a love interest that gets him involved in the affairs of said offending parties, bullet riddled confrontations, ghastly damage to the protagonist's hand(s), etc. Long ago, Tarantino told Rodriguez that his Mariachi films were like Rodriguez's own Man With No Name trilogy. I'd say he was close by default of imitation.

I recommend "Django" for those interested in cinematic history. Whether it be to see a pivotal entry in the Western/Spaghetti Western genre, an exploitation classic, an influential piece of work, a time capsule of a long gone era of filmmaking, or just a beautifully shot movie. Put aside any reservations to its faults and you'll see why it's beloved by many in cinematic circles. I give "Django" a 7/10.

Corbucci copies Leone so well that seems to reach similar results by coincidence. But Corbucci is less poetic and more efectist tan Sergio. Nice idea the coffin with the machine gun and the colourful saloon contrasted with the dry plains.

This seemed like a sure thing, a movie I could rely on to be good since over 30 movies took the name 'Django' in their titles to capitalise on its success, with only 2 others starring Franco Nero himself, the official sequel in 1987 and Django Unchained.
This is a really gritty western that creates an amazing atmostphere of death around our hero (which is helped a long by him dragging around a coffin of course). Right from the off, after the amazing title theme of course, we see that Django is one mysterious drifter not to be messed with, after he saves a girl from some douche bags.
My favourite moment has to be when Django single handedly takes on all of 'the Major's' 48 men.
This film definitely takes its place as one of my favourite westerns, just behind a few Clint Eastwood films.

Da dove partire?
Probabilmente dai fratelli Corbucci che scrivono un western semplice semplice (straniero misterioso arriva nel paesino, salva la donna contesa dalle due fazioni rivali, si rifugia e fraternizza con il barista e approfitta della situazione per farsi i suoi comodi e sparare un po' a tutto) ma che lo arricchiscono di perle rare e brillanti.
Prima:
Riempiono la città di fango, niente polveroni. Fango. Dove ci si sporca, dove i cavalli ci affondano gli zoccoli e dove le zoccole ci affondano le tette.
Seconda:
a Django (Franco Nero, compagno di avventure western di Corbucci) fanno trascinare per tutto il tempo una bara che per più di mezz'ora nessuno osa aprire. Una volta svelato il contenuto si capisce dove il caro Rodriguez si sia ispirato per la custodia-armata di chitarra per il suo Mariachi/Banderas nella trilogia omonima.
Terza:
la ormai più volte osannata scena dell'orecchio mozzato, ricordata nelle Iene di Quentin.
Quarta:
Un finale dove ogni maledetto fotogramma è un perfettissimo quadro. Ma non ve lo svelo.
A condire il tutto un (come sempre) ottimo Bacalov a suonarci la colonna sonora, con tanto di canzone ad hoc di Rocky Roberts.

Informazione complementare: un giovane Ruggero Deodato - si, quello dei cannibali - come aiuto regista.

Un gran film, con la g minuscola. Di quelli da ricordare (a pezzi).