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movies / February 4, 2012

I got ahold of the script for Quentin Tarantino’s Django Unchained, and was mildly smug about it till I found out everyone’s read it already. Apparently it got leaked ages ago. Nobody tells me anything.

So what’s everyone saying about it? Basically, that it’s the coolest thing ever, or else it’s a fiasco of epic proportions. Nothing in between.

Me, I’m on the fiasco side at the moment. I tend that way in general. When I order a cup of coffee, I bet the coffee will be a fiasco of epic proportions, too. Though it often turns out to be okay.

In case you’ve slept through all this film-anticipation (and why shouldn’t you?) Django Unchained is the Tarantino film that takes on slavery in America, turning it a kind of Spaghetti Western bloodbath relocated to the Deep South. It’s in production, won’t be out till next Christmas. Probably a mistake to look at the script. Film scripts are an odd, stripped-down form; they don’t make it easy to imagine what could result onscreen. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself, because like I hinted earlier, I’m not wild about the script for Django Unchained.

And I’ve got a lot riding on this radical “Southern.” Big emotional investment, partly because of how rotten American films are lately and how much a new genre is needed to breathe a little life into them. And partly because I have so much faith in genre film as The Better Way to approach cultural history and experience, better because genre actually works. It has an impact, influences how people feel. History lessons and documentaries and high-minded period dramas, when they can’t be avoided, sometimes have their place in making us think dutiful thoughts. But an effective genre film (or book or program or game) can go right into our nerve centers and make us love things, and hate other things, and long for a scenario in which to act on our feelings.

That all might be very deplorable or even dangerous—some people think so, anyway—but there it is.

Anyway, the Django script is very long—166 pages long, and reads even longer, like an oddly formatted, scattershot pop novel. Tarantino is no respecter of proper script form as mandated in all those How to Write a Rote Screenplay books. His title page is a handwritten scrawl, and I have no doubt it’s his own big-kid handwriting, because Tarantino always favors these showy auteur gestures, like running a pompous credit on Kill Bill I putting it in numerical order, “The Fourth Film by Quentin Tarantino.” Why not Tarantino Opus #4 while he’s at it? Even Hitchcock didn’t have a directorial ego that size.

On the other hand, you can never laugh Tarantino off. And I’ve tried. But he’s too good. At intervals, anyway; certain films; certain sequences from certain films. Big bloody chunks of Inglourious Basterds sit there daring you to say he’s not good.

Django Unchained is about how the slave Django (to be played by Jamie Foxx) is unexpectedly freed by an urbane German bounty hunter, Dr. Schultz (Basterd‘s celebrated Christoph Waltz), and teams up with him to go on a plantation raid to free Django’s wife, Broomhilda (Kerry Washington). The despicable plantation owner Calvin Candie (Leonardo DiCaprio) uses his spread as a giant “house of ill-repuke,” as Popeye would say, for white Southern gents hankering after “ponies,” generally light-skinned female slaves judged the best-looking. “Candyland” also showcases a slave-fighting ring featuring “mandingo” gladiators who battle to the death.

Obviously all that has to be stopped in the goriest way possible. Fine, good. Necessary, even. An ultra-violent, vengeful “Southern” can be the pop media form of “the fire next time” James Baldwin promised us: “We are going to burn down your house,” on film, anyway.

Make that house a plantation in antebellum Mississippi and what decent person, black or white, doesn’t want to help torch it?

But the problem is, it all reads so…stupid. Tarantino’s script is everything his detractors say he is, derivative, obnoxious, juvenile. There are terrible scenes of cornball humor, like when Django is forced to wear a blue satin Little Lord Fauntleroy outfit in order to impersonate Dr. Schultz’s valet, and is confronted by a slave:

Betina: What’cha do for your massa’?

Django: Didn’t you hear him tell ya, I ain’t no slave.

Betina: So you really free?

Django: Yes.

Betina: You mean you wanna dress like that?

Django fumes.

You come to dread the scene descriptions because they’re so embarrassing:

The men go to different stores to purchase Django’s wardrobe….Django looks damn handsome in his new duds. Brown cowboy boots, Green Corduroy Jacket, Smokey Grey shirt, Tan Skin Tight Pants, and Light Brown Cowboy Hat. He looks a bit like Elvis in “Flaming Star” and a Little Joe Cartwright on “Bonanza.”

Or this one:

Stephen has been Calvin’s slave since he was a little boy. And in (almost) every way is the 2nd most powerful person at Candyland. Like the characters Basil Rathbone would play in swashbucklers, evil, scheming, intriguing men, always trying to manipulate power for their own self interest. Well that describes Stephen to a tee.

The Basil Rathbone of House Niggers.

Tarantino writes like some of my students, and he’s getting way too old for that. All that writing-like-talking can be great if you’ve got control over it (see Mark Twain), but it’s godawful when you suffer from logorrhea and have the sensibility of a stoat. Tarantino’s ain’t-it-cool gloating is just as hot for the joys of Candyland, which he seems to wish he could visit personally—maybe he and Leo having a pony-party—as it is for the burning of Candyland. He writes as gleefully about Broomhilda getting flogged naked through the streets as he does about Django’s revenge upon the floggers, because it’s all equally awesome, man. As Broomhilda, Kerry Washington is going to spend the movie nude and whipped, nude and raped, nude and sold. I bet she’s hitting the gym right now, toning up all that “chocolate” flesh, as Tarantino describes it, the better to realistically represent the miseries of the slave girl.

Not Kerry Washington

But everything equally “awesome” gets boring fast, and finally has no impact. Django’s revenge just tails off into nothing—I can hardly remember it. There’s no slave uprising, no Nat Turner action. Django and Broomhilda are somehow going to escape from the Deep South on their own after wasting everybody at Candyland, and lead really cool lives somewhere. Maybe head to California, open a store on Melrose Ave., sell the Django Look, corduroy jackets and skin-tight pants, chocolate make-up for the ponies?

Hell, Tarantino’s half-convinced me the PBS types are right: you can’t deal with slavery in a genre film, it’s insulting. You think of every photo of a slave you ever saw, and wonder how Tarantino could write such crap. And here’s the guy who wants to make a movie about John Browne! It’s laughable!

Still, I hope I’m wrong. Maybe it just reads stupid, and all the sound and visuals will transform it. Or maybe he’s on the set desperately rewriting the script between takes. He should be.

It took me days to battle my way through Django Unchained, cringing most of the time. But when I got ahold of the script for Inside Llewyn Davis, I sat right there and read it through in an hour. Damn, those Coen Brothers can write.

Here’s an early bit of dialogue between the protagonist, Llewyn Davis, and his agent Mel:

Llewyn: How we doin?

Mel: We’re doin great!

Llewyn: Really? New record’s doing well?

Mel is instantly sad:

Mel: Oh—you mean how we doin. Not so hot, I gotta be honest.

Do you hear that? Do you HEAR that? That effortless rhythm achieved by people who can write? Can’t be taught. It’s like perfect pitch or something.

Inside Llewyn Davis is the Coen Brothers’ latest, which won’t be out till 2013. First point to stress about this film: you might’ve heard it’s going to star Justin Timberlake, but you can breathe easy, he’s not the main character. Whew! Big relief. Instead, it’s that guy named Oscar Isaac who played the ex-con husband in Drive. Inside Llewyn Davis is about the folk music scene in 1961 Greenwich Village, right before Bob Dylan takes it by storm. The Llewyn Davis character is based on the real-life folk singer Dave Van Ronk, before Dave Van Ronk became the “Mayor of MacDougal Street,” mentoring Dylan and Phil Ochs and Joni Mitchell and, apparently, loved by all.

Our Llewyn Davis is a hapless fuck-up who lives on the couches of friends and acquaintances and, sometimes, strangers. He’s also a serious musician, which doesn’t make him any easier to get along with. He’ll periodically erupt into righteous lectures about his dedication to music and others’ lack of same. He also keeps impregnating young women who then need abortions and monetary help paying for them, which he has to raise somehow.

One of them, Jean (Carey Mulligan), is the wife of Llewyn’s friend Jim (Justin Timberlake)—Jean and Jim make up a fairly successful husband-and-wife folk duo who’ve been helping Llewyn. Llewyn is always betraying and alienating people who help him, then repenting and trying to make up for it, then re-betraying and re-alienating them.

Anyway, Jean can scarcely draw breath without expelling it immediately in reviling Llewyn:

Jean: …I should have had you wear double condoms. Well—we shouldn’t have done it in the first place. But if you ever do it again, which as a favor to women everywhere you should not, but if you do, you should be wearing condom on condom. And then wrap it in electric tape. You should just walk around always, inside a great big condom. Because you are shit.

I think we’ll enjoy seeing Carey Mulligan play this part after her sweet waify performance in Drive.

In general, Llewyn Davis is failing so badly he tries to rejoin the merchant marines and fails at that, too. He’s stuck with folk music, which he loves/hates. In fact, the narrative frame is Llewyn getting beat up in an alley by a folk music fan from Kentucky who takes offense at Llewyn’s disrespectful comments about the genre.

Llewyn’s shambling couch-to-couch odyssey is lovingly, inventively documented. If you’ve ever been desperate in your life, trying to get a foothold anywhere when you’ve got no money and nothing’s clicking, you’re going to be both impressed and slightly sickened by how accurately the Coens capture that appalling state of being. One of the things that happens to you in that state is that you wind up on wild goose chases after the merest, slightest whiffs of opportunity. You get involved in deeply weird, suspect situations with deeply weird, suspect people. But you’re trapped—even when you can see clearly that some bizarre scenario is unlikely to get you anywhere, you’ve got nothing else going on, so you have to play it out. The farcical and the dreadful meet, and you only get to laugh about it much, much later. If you survive, and if you can ever bear to recall it. But bystanders get to laugh right then and there.

Which is a long way around saying that there’s a central sequence in the script involving Llewyn’s road trip from New York City to Chicago, where he might get an audition which might get him a real gig, that’s so hilarious and awful I can’t praise it highly enough. Llewyn’s ride-mate is Roland Turner, a fat old jazz singer and heroin addict (probably the John Goodman part) who walks with two canes, plus an impassive blonde driver, Johnny Five. Turner is constantly taking restroom breaks of suspicious duration, “herky-jerking” his way back and forth, and making Llewyn pay for the gas. When he’s back in the car he has lots of conversation:

Roland Turner: What’s the N stand for? Lou N. Davis?

Llewyn: Llewyn. Llewyn. L-L-E-W-Y-N. It’s Welsh.

Roland Turner: Well it would have to be something, stupid fuckin name like that. Here, this would interest you, Johnny and I were in Seattle, playing the High Spot—remember this, Johnny?—and I became indisposed after eating a toasted cheese sandwich. May well have been a rancid slice of bacon. Found myself purging from every orifice—one of them like a firehose—I said to the manager, What do you call that thing I just ate? He said, “Welsh rarebit.” I said, Okay, does everything from Wales make you shit yourself or just this piece of toast. He said, and I’ll never forget it because it almost made the experience worthwhile, he said Mr. Turner—Holy Jesus, what is that thing?

He has seen the cat, peeking over Llewyn’s shoulder.

Because of the cat, we never do find out what the manager said to Roland Turner that almost made his Welsh rarebit experience worthwhile. It’s a Persian cat that Llewyn is tending for his friends. This is a serious through-line in the script, the cat, or rather cats—there turn out to be two cats that look so alike Llewyn mixes them up. In the way of desperate people who can’t get control of anything important in their lives and get fixated on one possible act of redemption, Llewyn tries very hard to make things right with the cat, or cats. And fails. I won’t say how, but it’s that mixture of the harrowing and the funny and the haunting that the Coens have got nailed down tight by now. You won’t forget when and how Llewyn abandons the cat to its fate.

The script is great beyond my poor power to describe, of course. And by all accounts the Coens’ plans for handling the music are almost as ambitious as for O Brother Where Art Thou? So barring something odd derailing them, this looks like another Coen masterwork. But God knows how it’s going to play with audiences. It’s so specific, so relentless, so casually honest about things that are never handled casually or honestly in American movies—abortions, drugs, failure, loneliness—that I wouldn’t be surprised if they had a total flop on their hands. The Big Lebowski all over again—a dud at the box-office, but later on everyone claims they always loved it.

So no surprise, the Coens win. And more importantly, we know there’s one good movie being made somewhere in America. It ain’t over yet!

 

 

 

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87 Comments

Add your own

  • 1. RobertD  |  February 8th, 2012 at 12:58 am

    If Roger Avery is supposed to be the real talent behind Pulp Fiction, then you might want to ask yourselves why everything he’s done by himself has been so mediocre.

  • 2. gc  |  February 8th, 2012 at 2:53 am

    @ 45

    At the risk of doing a devil’s advocate thing here, isn’t comparing Tarrantino to the Coen Bros. something like comparing a really well-crafted porno mag. to the works of Da Vinci?”

    Well, yes, but only if you bear in mind that the category of “really well-crafted porno mag” includes Donatello, Botticelli, Titian, Caravaggio, etc.

    Anyway – Christ, you people are bunch of vain provincials. (No, not you. Yes, you.) Incapable of seeing artistry, and afraid to take anything seriously, unless there’s a sign every five minutes assuring you “Yes, this is very, very mature, sophisticated, meaningful art, and everybody will think you’re cool [which you aren’t] for appreciating it and nobody will think you’re a shallow arrested development case [which you are].”

    (None of this should be construed as a dig at the Coen brothers. It’s not their fault that their work happens to appeal to this species of scum.)

  • 3. gc  |  February 8th, 2012 at 3:14 am

    (continued) And Christ, you guys aren’t even good at it.

    Glengarry Glen Ross? That’s your archetype of an art house movie? You could have picked Orson Welles, Preston Sturges, Kurosawa, one the French new wave guys, Bergman, David Lynch, but no, you go with David Mamet?

  • 4. gc  |  February 8th, 2012 at 3:38 am

    @ 36

    “That isn’t the censor’s work”

    Well, having just re-read this entire thread and seen the revised version of comment #25, it seems I assumed wrongly.

    Shame on me.

  • 5. Quarlo Clobregnny  |  February 8th, 2012 at 3:56 am

    There is no way on earth the Tarantino movie will come close to the brilliance of Jacopetti and Prosperi’s “Goodbye, Uncle Tom”.

  • 6. Mr. Bad  |  February 8th, 2012 at 5:21 am

    @ 53. gc

    Glengarry, Glen Ross was directed by James Foley, not David Mamet, stupid fucking loudmouth twerp kid. Nobody was talking about an “archetypical art house movie”, that is your (idiotic) phrase – what a pretentious snot nose kid you are, if anybody is vain and provincial it’s obviously you. Way to drop every name you’ve heard in Art/Film 101 minus any explanation or intelligent comment.

  • 7. Mr. Bad  |  February 8th, 2012 at 5:38 am

    @46. Ilona

    In your first post you wrote:

    “Can poor movies be great or considerable satisfying at least?” So… If a movie is poor it cannot by definition be great. D’oh!
    Your overlong and eminently boring defense of Tarantino really lent a lot to the debate. Keep in mind that all of the “good scenes”, like for instance the House of Blue Leaves sequence in Kill Bill have been ripped off straight from the source material, in this case Hong Kong Action cinema. Tarantino even brought in Yuen Woo-Ping to “revisit” his greatest hits because Tarantino was so late to the party, a real visionary who had already been beaten to the punch (no pun intended) by the Wachowski brothers (Matrix/2000) and most memorably by Ang Lee (Crouching Tiger/2000).

    So if you’re ignorant of even mainstream American films and love his hip filler material leavened by stolen greatness from afar than you too will love Tarantino’s work – was that your point? Did I get it this time around?

  • 8. rick  |  February 8th, 2012 at 11:08 am

    I kinda skimmed the Inglorious Bastards script before it came out and it read awful, like an abject failure–

    But I watched the movie and it was…something else. I hadn’t read or comprehended that every scene was designed to ratchet up tension in a particular interesting way.

    Now it’s the only “film” from the last few years that I have any sort of organic desire to watch multiple times. So I’d seriously hold out judgement.

  • 9. Ilona  |  February 8th, 2012 at 11:47 am

    @ 57. Mr. Bad

    “…?” What’s the significance of a question mark by definition? D’oh!

    “…and love his hip filler material leavened by stolen greatness…” If you are pointing at the Kill Bills, I don’t love or hate them. My reaction is a solid meh.

    “…you too will love Tarantino’s work – was that your point?” No. My point is you absolutely have to worship Tarantino as a person and all of his work, particularly the Kill Bills, which you obviously do.

    “Did I get it this time around?” Sure, why not. Did you?

  • 10. Mr. Bad  |  February 8th, 2012 at 2:34 pm

    @59. Ilona

    Finally, you’ve made your point, couldn’t you have just laid it out in plain suck-up/PR flack style?

    Instead we get your labored mountain of obvious irony and sarcastic prose, all to produced this little mouse:

    “you absolutely have to worship Tarantino as a person”

    Yes, that is obviously your point and always was since his works post Jackie Brown is indefensible and which is why I suspected you were a plant, which you probably are, because who else but a child or a flack would write these saccharine love notes to the T man:

    “…one major reason why he has kept us on the edge of our seats”

    “Sure, both Kill Bills are littered with always so funny and witty Tarantino Brand In Your Face Attitude And Witty Dialog And Bad Ass Characters™”

    “Tarantino is a too damn good director/screen writer/actor/whatnot go to waste”

    “I mean, didn’t he just do that with Inglourious Basterds?” (referring to creating a new type of hollywood action movie)ROFL

    BUT your’e not a junket whore? These line s are ready to run on the full page USA Today advert, go suck up somewhere else.

  • 11. jimmythehyena  |  February 9th, 2012 at 8:12 am

    I’ve got an Ms in Madonna Studies from Smith and I assure you that Mr.Tarantino was spot on with his analysis of the semiotics of “Like a Virgin”.

  • 12. ariot  |  February 9th, 2012 at 10:17 am

    If forced to pick.

    I pick Guy Ritchie (pre Holmes)

    Does that mean I’m not one of the cool kids?

  • 13. coprologie  |  February 13th, 2012 at 11:17 am

    Tarantino seems like he’d be friendly toward me. The Cohens seem like they’d avoid me.

    What am I to do with this?

  • 14. Z  |  February 13th, 2012 at 5:49 pm

    Tarantino strikes me as a spoiled princess who has somehow been mistaken for a major filmmaker. He is a master of appropriating other filmmaker’s material and re-purposing it for his own childish ends. Samuel L. Jackson admitted that all Tarantino really does is take scenes from his favorite films and string them together to create a sort of pop culture collage. Tarantino has a sordid history of stealing friend’s and contemporary’s ideas. He screwed Roger Avary out of his proper writing credit for “Pulp Fiction.” Avery wrote the best and most original story for the film which became the segment with Bruce Willis as the boxer on the lam. Just as a real writer always writes, a real filmmaker must constantly be working on a film. Tarantino prefers to party and rest on his laurels. After “Pulp,” it took him many years to shit out another film. When he finally did it was “Jackie Brown.” I like “Jackie Brown,” but most of what I like about the film comes from Elmore Leonard’s mastery of character/dialog and not Tarantino’s trashy, exploitation gloss. After “Brown,” it has been a downhill slide for QT. “Kill Bill,” is all frosting and no content. The second volume in particular is embarrassing and seems like the work of a QT imitator.”Death Proof,” is nothing more than a party Tarantino threw with his celebrity friends and then filmed. When Tarantino finally delivered his supposed magnum opus “Inglourious Basterds,” it had exactly one good scene surrounded by a lot of cutesy nonsense that would have made Lee Marvin cringe. Tarantino obviously has no interest in pushing himself as an artist. His use of snarky irony punctuated by bursts of calculated violence has become stale and predictable. His art has been dead for some time now. Bob Dylan once said that a real artist should never get to a place where they feel completely comfortable. A real artist must constantly challenge themselves by moving into new areas of artistic exploration. Tarantino has an area that he works in that is obviously comfortable for him, but he refuses to move beyond it. His cinema of cool is self-limiting and makes every new film he does seem more predictable and tired than the last one. The Coen Brothers have long since abandoned the cinema of cool. Every new movie they do is different and tries to achieve a different sort of artistic end. They are not content to just remake the same crap over and over again. They seem to understand what a marvelous gift it is to be able to make films in the first place. They move from one project to another and always seek to improve their craft. Their cinematic catalog is so stunning at this point it almost defies comprehension. Most directors would kill to have made just one movie like “Fargo,” or “The Big Lebowski.” Those two masterpieces are just feathers in the Coen’s increasingly rich and varied caps. While Tarantino continues to spin his wheels and drive in circles the Coens are charting a new path as true artistic explorers. Between QT and The Coens there is simply no contest. I would like to thank Mr. Bad for pointing out the sad fact that QT’s pop culture moment has been over for some time now.

  • 15. gc  |  February 14th, 2012 at 8:18 am

    @ 64

    1. “His cinema of cool is self-limiting and makes every new film he does seem more predictable and tired than the last one. The Coen Brothers have long since abandoned the cinema of cool.”

    You’ve got it approximately backwards. What’s changed is that, after Pulp Fiction, Tarantino stopped using genre conventions in a way that the cool kids could enjoy while still feeling confident that, in enjoying them, they weren’t sinking to the level of the vulgar masses (which, of course, is where they’ve always actually been).

    The Coen brothers, as an unfortunate side effect of their blatant weirdness, have never caused this discomfort.

    2. “His [Tarantino’s] use of snarky irony punctuated by bursts of calculated violence…”

    Tarantino’s films are the antithesis of snarky.

    This is, actually, another example of how the cool kids confuse themselves over Tarantino. Terrified that somebody might think they’re not in on the joke, they make sure to indicate in passing that they are, not realizing that there is no joke.

    3. “Just as a real writer always writes, a real filmmaker must constantly be working on a film. Tarantino prefers to party and rest on his laurels.”

    So, basically, you don’t know anything about the history of great writers. (Or visual artists or musicians.)

    4. “Those two masterpieces are just feathers in the Coen’s increasingly rich and varied caps.

    Jesus Christ, you couldn’t write more like a mainstream press hack if you tried.

  • 16. Z  |  February 14th, 2012 at 11:39 pm

    Oh, if only I could be a mainstream press hack. Instead I have to argue with the lowest dregs of the internet like you. Tarantino does not use or subvert genre conventions. He merely presents them as end in and of themselves. I don’t see any vision coming from him. I see Robert Richardson’s beautiful cinematography in the service of banal set pieces that ultimately go nowhere. QT’s films have become catalogs of references to other much better movies and justly forgotten pieces of genre crap. QT’s taste is in his ass and he wants us all to have a nice whiff. You are wrong when you say there is no joke my friend. There is definitely a joke and it’s on you. So spark up a doob and watch “Kill Bill,” for hours on end searching for deeper meaning. Maybe if you squint and stare really hard at the screen you will find some.

  • 17. gc  |  February 15th, 2012 at 7:56 am

    @66

    “Tarantino does not use or subvert genre conventions. He merely presents them as end in and of themselves.”

    That’s using them.

    “So spark up a doob and watch “Kill Bill,” for hours on end searching for deeper meaning.”

    Assuming that admiring an artist implies “searching for deeper meaning”; name dropping Bob Dylan; assuming that anybody has smoked a “doob” in the last twenty years; this is not making you look good.

  • 18. gc  |  February 15th, 2012 at 8:10 am

    (continued)

    The previous comment should not be construed as saying there’s anything wrong with Bob Dylan.

  • 19. Z  |  February 15th, 2012 at 9:33 am

    As one gets older gc, one finds that a bunch of pretty pictures flying across a screen is not quite enough. It’s the difference between being caught up in a great novel or watching “Mighty Morphin Power Rangers.” You will discover this when you get out of your diapers. If I have you pegged correctly you probably find the corporate hack work of Christopher Nolan immensely stimulating as well.

  • 20. Mr. Bad  |  February 15th, 2012 at 10:57 am

    @ 67. gc

    “Tarantino does not use or subvert genre conventions. He merely presents them as end in and of themselves.”

    That’s using them.

    No fucktard, that does not mean he’s using them – it means he’s duplicating them onscreen without adding any value. Plagiarizing, copying poorly.

    Tarantino is not an author, he is not creative, at best he is a translator who hasn’t mastered either the language he’s translating to or from.

  • 21. gc  |  February 15th, 2012 at 12:59 pm

    @ 69

    “As one gets older gc, one finds that a bunch of pretty pictures flying across a screen is not quite enough.”

    “One” apparently meaning “Z”.

    Maybe you did once believe that a bunch of pretty picture flying across the screen (not that that’s what Tarantino does anyway) was enough, and now you don’t. That’s not unusual. Lots of people because mired in stupid ideas as they get older.

    The fact, of course, is that a bunch of pretty pictures can be great or worthless, depending on the pictures and how they’re arranged.

    “As one gets older gc, one finds that a bunch of pretty pictures flying across a screen is not quite enough. It’s the difference between being caught up in a great novel…”

    Dude, you’re the idiot who said “a real writer always writes” several comments previously. You don’t get to talk about great novels.

  • 22. Z  |  February 15th, 2012 at 1:42 pm

    GC, calm down man. I understand you like Tarantino. It’s cool. I went through that phase as well. A great writer such as yourself will come to understand that there is a whole big world out there that does not involve hipster dialogue and kung-fu swords.

  • 23. gc  |  February 15th, 2012 at 2:18 pm

    @ 71

    “I went through that phase as well. A great writer such as yourself will come to understand that there is a whole big world out there that does not involve hipster dialogue and kung-fu swords.”

    Leaving aside, again, the stupidity of this as a characterization of Tarantino – you’ve now admitted to going through a “phase” of thinking that the world does consist of “hipster dialogue and kung-fu swords.”

    You are not good at this.

  • 24. Mr. Bad  |  February 15th, 2012 at 2:37 pm

    @ 71. gc

    What a petulant little fascist you are! You will decide who can talk about what huh? You will spend the day thinking up crushing put downs like “nobody cares” and polluting the exiled comments section with your self regard and endless drivel… When will your mommy show up and tell us all to leave her little baby alone because he’s about to slit his wrists out of frustration? C’mon, tell us more, you’ve name dropped a lot, whined a lot and now I’m asking for some substance in your comments – what are you afraid of babycakes? Stop using generalities, give us the full force of your superior “intellect” LOL.

  • 25. Z  |  February 15th, 2012 at 6:38 pm

    GC, it’s really okay. I understand that you’re angry. You have a right to your feelings no matter what your father told you. This is a safe place for you. I want you to describe in single words only the good things about your mother.

  • 26. gc  |  February 16th, 2012 at 9:30 am

    @ 75

    Man, that mincing “They seem to understand what a marvelous gift it is to be able to make films in the first place…” New York Times persona sure fell apart quickly.

    Not that this is to your credit; it suggests that you’re simply too dumb to understand that to do the David Brooks voice effectively (such as it is), you have to do it consistently.

    “GC, it’s really okay. I understand that you’re angry. You have a right to your feelings no matter what your father told you. This is a safe place for you. I want you to describe in single words only the good things about your mother.”

    Why do you hate America?

  • 27. Scarlet  |  February 19th, 2012 at 12:45 am

    Okay, the script…

    Where can I get my hands on it, please?

  • 28. Derp  |  March 4th, 2012 at 9:34 pm

    If I wanted to watch a movie about niggers killing whiteboys then I’d go see Redtails. Derp derp derp!

  • 29. Uncle_Billy_Cunctator  |  March 6th, 2012 at 1:43 am

    Where am I? Is this where people meet and argue after finishing community college film classes? Also, what percentage of the angry ones here are poking away at their laptops at Starbucks or Coffee Bean, annoyed by the loud conversations all around them?

  • 30. Steph  |  March 6th, 2012 at 2:13 pm

    Django Unchained is a retread of Mandingo [de Laurentis, 1975] with a German doctor added to the dialogue. Only youth who were born the year Pulp Fiction came out would consider DJ “new” or “original.”

  • 31. nat turner  |  March 31st, 2012 at 12:32 am

    Django Unchained is better cuz it shows crackers being killed. and everybody here is a pretentious fag

  • 32. Hmmm  |  May 7th, 2012 at 4:59 pm

    Anger behind a keyboard, y’all crack me up. A lot of jealously here as well, probably most of you are wannabe film makers and all of you “wannabe’s” won’t do shit with your lives but try and make a shit film that nobody wants to see because you have no talent. I don’t care for QT films, but I don’t go around whining about them either, grow up and get off the man’s dick before its so far up you ass you can taste his spunk.

  • 33. fanboys lol  |  May 16th, 2012 at 10:00 pm

    So many,Tarantino fanboys crying their little hearts out! (GC and others)

    The solid truth is, Tarantino has not made a film of merit since Jackie brown.

    He is now content on appealing to the moronic masses,with quips and gore.

    This was enjoyable early on with the co-made from dusk til dawn,but is now so tired!.

    I would like to see Tarantino return to the gangster genre, in a attempt to pick up where he left off with Jackie brown.

    Or better yet, to make a movie that would defy all his stereotypes and upset his perpetual adolescent fanboys.

    I predict django will be a horrible mess, but blind fandom, will claim he has shat gold.

  • 34. fanboys lol  |  May 16th, 2012 at 11:25 pm

    In relation to my previous post.

    I would like to point out Kevin Smith.
    Smith with his movie clerks, was touring the festivals at the same time as pulp fiction was doing the rounds in 1994.

    Both Tarantino and Smith were funded by Harvey Weinstein and Miramax and were touted as indie.

    Somewhat the new wave of the 90’s counter culture if you like.

    And the careers of the two can be looked at as similar in a way, both sticking strongly to their own comfort zones/formula.

    Smith’s dismal failure cop out,putting the final death blow to his comedies.

    Smith attempted something completely new for him with Redstate,you could say Smith’s first grown up movie.

    Redstate proves a change can be good.

    Here is hoping Tarantino will branch out,can you imagine a comedy from him or a romance a scifi?

    (In closing i will say this,pulp fiction is still among my favourite movies.

    I just wish Tarantino was making films of this calibre ,rather than the dribble he is churning out.

    kill bill 3 next for the love of god please no!!!!! attempt something new Quentin.

  • 35. Steph  |  May 29th, 2012 at 11:32 am

    “Tarantino has not made a film of merit since Jackie brown” Merited only because it is based upon the work of a superior writer-Elmore Leonard. Without the Leonard’s blueprint, Tarantino would have been lost.

  • 36. Greg  |  May 25th, 2014 at 10:52 am

    I feel you dislike Tarantino for all the wrong reasons.

  • 37. Matt Aleshire  |  November 18th, 2014 at 12:42 pm

    “A hold.”


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