…awww Quentin…you’re (insert expletive here) up now…

Now see, just when I wrote a positive review of your revenge fantasy flick, here I read that there were some Django action figures on the market.

Although I liked Django, I did not like him that much. My child (the one I expect to have in the future and any other children I decide to adopt) will not have a Django action figure. Or action figure of any other such character in the film.

And then I see a pic of Quentin with his hand wrapped along the lower torso of a naked Black woman, on the cover of a magazine I can’t recall at the moment since I saw it in my twitter feed.

!?!?!??!

Ok, yes, I agree with causing a stir and all, but dang, how many times do I need to see yet another devaluing of Black women in popular culture?? It’s so funny, because I’m writing this after standing in line at a Barnes and Noble, where there is a rack of magazines near the coffeebar. Out of the six magazines, four covers show women smiling, with fitted tops/collared tanks and bikini-esque bottoms, while the Bicyling magazine shows Patrick Dempsey standing next to a bike with layers of clothing on. The last magazine showed a smiling Kate Middleton, wearing a dress that fully covers her body.  So, if I were to analyze my split second perusal of these covers, what it might be telling me covertly is that unless you’re a princess, you better expect to show off your body and as much as skin as possible — no matter how intelligent or talented you are — if you want to be on the cover of this magazine, or *gasp*, valued.

Yes, sex sells. But these magazines assume that heterosexual woman don’t like sex. Or that sex is only represented by the naked woman’s body. I honestly don’t picture another woman when I think about sex, I think about the man! So if sex does sell, why is it that a woman’s perspective of what could be considered sexy is never displayed? Especially when woman make up a majority of the people who actually purchase magazines?

I didn’t expect this to turn in to a sociological review, but that’s what happens when things start popping out at me.  Oh, this has gone on a totally different tangent than I expected, hasn’t it?  Sooo, anyway —

Quentin – get it together! Thank you.

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…Django, Django, Django….

Yes, I went to the movie theatre to see Django Unchained. And if you didn’t know before, yes, I am Black.

Black, Black, Black.

And guess what? I thoroughly enjoyed it! More than I thought I would.

When I saw the trailer for it many months ago, I had noooooo desire to see it. It looked like a hot mess on a platter. Even though I really like Sam, Leo and Jamie, I just thought – nope.

Then I saw an interview with Quentin and Charlie Rose, and it gave me pause, and a different perspective of him and his intentions for the movie. And after watching the film — it is truly the fruition of a desire born in him after he watched Roots as a youth. I won’t get into the details of the interview, but here it is. Listen out for the reference to Chicken George. However, I’ve seen most of Quentin’s films and nothing he does is straight-from-the-book. They are always super bloody. They always have a bit of humor. They always have memorable dialogue.  They always have a character that goes rogue and is bad-ass. They always have the good guy/girl win in the end. They are always flawed in some way or another, like most films. This film is yet another in his genre, with slavery as the meat that holds it all together.  He gives his interpretation artistic license, and that is his right as a filmmaker.

I did not feel he was ‘making light’ of slavery, using the N-word gratuitously, or any other such intelligentsia accusations that have been thrown his way. With regards to the N-word, it is used in the film about as much I would assume it was used during slavery and probably now in the deep deep south 2013 — it did not seem out of context for the characters. It was a typical western – bad guys, good guys, a beautiful woman who needed saving, some fighting and shooting, some killing and maiming, and a little dynamite thrown in for good measure. If there is anything I could complain about, it would be that the women lacked depth. But hey, this is Quentin’s story.

Interestingly enough, I felt quite satisfied at the end. Kind of how I feel after I eat some really good coffee gelato. Yeeeessss! Get ’em Jamie (and Christoph)! Oops, I’m not at the theatre anymore.

My final thoughts: I wish people would see the film before they criticize it to oblivion, because I would respect their negative critique more if they did.  As I have said with television, film, print – the media in general – if you don’t like what you see, stop talking about it and create your own images. Follow through! Don’t piss on the plate when there is no other food left and you haven’t participated in making any of the dinner. I respect others’ right not to view the film (there are several directors whose films I don’t view on purpose because of their shady history), but just like eating (I must be hungry right now), don’t say the food is nasty before you’ve even taken a bite.

Ok, off the soapbox.