This was my take as well. When he’s weeping over Candi, he’s weeping over the damage done to himself.
No, because the damage was done - it was obvious to everyone that the Dr. wanted to let D’A. off the hook. Django stopped him from doing it but the damage (if damage it was) was already done - he appeared publicly too soft-hearted.
His explaination was that he loved the savage grace of mandingo fighting or some such bullshit. No doubt Candi thought he was a fool. But him being a fool doesn’t necessarily blow the con - why should it?
Fair enough. I suppose him looking like a fool was advantageous in that Candie was more inclined to think he was getting the better of someone. I’ll accept that.
I guess we’re left with the idea that Django had to go because there was no way Django was going to let someone else do this job for him.
I just saw it last night, and thought it was a pretty great movie. I always like Tarantino is good; there’s the surface level action and fun dialogue, but I enjoy how you can always dig deeper.
I’ve seen it mentioned other places but I don’t think I’ve seen anyone mention it here- this is one of the very rare movies where the damsel in distress is black. It seems so rare to have movies where a black woman is an object of desire who’s worthy of going through trials for. It would have been nice for Broomhilda to get some vengeance of her own, considering how awful she had been treated the entire movie. But the Angry Black Woman is something that’s seen in more movies, while the black damsel in distress isn’t.
Also someone up thread asked why Stephen would care about Django and Schulz’s con to get Broomhilda when it doesn’t hurt him. It’s not purely because he’s evil, but it’s also a practical matter. Candie would feel like a fool when Schulz didn’t return after five days with his lawyer to buy the fighter, and would really not be happy about it. And I’m sure Stephen would not abide being played for a fool by anyone.
Yeah, I thought it was interesting how Stephen was the villain and last killed. Obviously, something was going to go wrong in the deal, and people were going to be killed. But I was expecting it to be like most action movies where the good guy kills the regular henchmen first, then the right-hand man, then the main bad guy as the last one. I guess that is what happened, but from the trailers and such I was expecting DiCaprio to be the main villain, and Jackson to be the right-hand man, but it was the other way around. That was interesting.
I would have liked to see more of Stephen’s backstory too. I don’t think he was unbelievable or anything, but I would have liked to know more about him. I think the movie was supposed to be longer, and that Tarantino even thought about splitting it into two like with Kill Bill. Maybe there was more that was planned or filmed, but not in the final movie.
Hilde is a major question mark because on one hand, she’s pure, unadulterated damsel in distress. She’s beaten, tortured, and treated like a rag doll. Her lines are almost entiredly composed of screams and cries. On screen, she demonstrates no sense of agency let alone personality. She is a beautiful victim who can speak a little German and is Django’s wife. She faints when she sees her long lost husband, just as you’d expect a damsel to do. I’m assuming this treatment of her mimicks the sphagetti Western genre that Tarantino is borrowing from. Women were more like props and placeholders than characters.
And yet, on the other hand, she’s scrappy enough to try to flee from slavery at least two times. This behavior is not what you’d expect to see in a true damsel in distress. Is this just a contrivance that Tarantino uses to support Django’s vengefulness towards the brothers and highlight the lengths Stephen goes to torment the other slaves? Or is there something more to this in terms of her character? I don’t know.
Just watched it. First reaction; it’s a very smart, beautifully crafted work - Tarrantino is on very solid ground all the way through. And having a lot of fun.
I was stuck by it being set - at the start - two years before the civil war, less than 12 months by the end.
Seemed to me Schultz was probably a cipher for the conscious of the North. The plantation - with the huge explosion at the end - seemed to represent a world about to be, well, blown away. Etc, etc. Gone in the Wind. Not too subtle but fair enough. But that’s just one of several dimensions.
Candi and Stephen were effectively business partners. Still working on what Tarantino was talking about here.
Candi’s widowed sister - no idea.
In another dimension it reminded me a little of Cronenberg’s A History of Violence - turning traditional perceptions inside out to present a less propagandised understanding.
Of course, if you want a simple black super hero, you have that as well (must be the record for dead people in one hallway).
Plenty to ponder. Smart, smart work.
Saw it, liked it, most of my opinions already voiced, but did anybody else think that Samuel Jackson as Stephen looked like an evil black Yoda?
Honestly, it crossed my mind.
The masked woman was a reference/homage to some other movie. This is Tarantino we’re talking about. I can’t place it any further than that, but I’m sure that I have seen a similarly masked woman in some earlier film.
By the transitive property, you’re now picturing a Stephen Unchained prequel.
Stating the fairly obv, Stephen’s backstory was implied; he looked after Cookie as he grew up, as his father had looked after Cookie’s father, and ditto one more generation before that.
They have a mutual interest in maintaining the success of the plantation enterprise based not merely on present circs, but pretty serious history for those parts at that time.
Wouldn’t Stephen Chained be more appropriate?
It’s easy to understand Stephen’s hatred of Django: he threatens everything.
Calvin is Edward VIII or Farouk or any other number of playboy princes addicted to luxury and Stephen means he doesn’t have anything to have anything at all to do with his kingdom but receive piles of cash and the guarantee that they’ll keep coming. Stephen is the vizier of a kingdom and has power and privilege unparalleled not just on Candyland but in most of the Deep South. Like a Mamluk lord, his status as a slave is little more than a technicality- he’s so indispensible and capable that Calvin would likely drive away his sister or any other family member before he’d sell or kill Stephen. You never see Stephen’s quarters but you can be pretty sure it’s not a usual slave shack and that if it’s not in the big house itself then wherever it is it’s better built/heated/furnished than the home of any white man in the movie who isn’t a rich planter, and you can be pretty sure that would have the hell beaten out of any white guy on his plantation who laid a hand on Stephen (in my own completely non-canonical backstory this is why Calvin’s sister is a widow). He has gone further under slavery than he could ever have gone as a free black man and further than 99% of free white men.
While there’s probably some sort of qualified affection between the two based on knowing each other since Calvin was a baby the same would be true if they hate each other (which they probably also do on some level): if anything happens to either it’s going to be very bad for the other; their relationship is a win win for both and Stephen has risen so high he would not trade places with any white man or free black in Mississippi who isn’t at least as rich as Calvin.
In other words, he has nowhere to go but down.
Into this rides Django, who is openly flaunting liberties that even the Mamluk lord Stephen wouldn’t think of doing in private: riding a horse, carrying a gun, sleeping in the Big House… something is VERY VERY VERY wrong here already. Add to this that nobody knows these men, by their own admission they have killed people, there are probably already rumors of Django and Shultz’s activities in Tennessee (if not by name then at least the fact ‘Big Daddy’ and several white men were killed by a foreigner and a free black), and by their own admission they are there to ridiculously overpay for a slave. To Calvin, who probably craves any sort of illusion that he is a force to be reckoned with for any reason other than inherited wealth, this is validation that his Mandingo fighting activities make him as good a businessman as his father and grandfather and the eccentricities are something that will make good stories. To Stephen the absolutely best case scenario is that the two are honest and the plantation will make a few thousand dollars that it doesn’t really need, but the fact that they are lying is infinitely more likely, and if they are lying the best case scenario is that it’s some sort of con (which Stephen knows Calvin will fall for) and the worst goes way downhill from there (though even Stephen cannot foresee the massacre of course).
Django is an infection that must be dealt with, because it threatens everything at Candyland. I see parallels between Dr. Zaius and Taylor in a way.
And because he’s evil, it’s easy to overlook the fact that Stephen is completely right: they are there on a con, and he even figures out what the con is, and even though it’s harmless enough it still has to be dealt with as any kind of attempted invasion or coup must be; there is no such thing as a harmless stabbing after all.
It’s a brilliant set up of perceptions and unpredictable elements and, though Calvin and Stephen are clearly the villains, interesting ethical conundrums.
It’s silly how many “historical inaccuracy” complaints there have been already when that would be like pointing out historical inaccuracies in King Lear or Medea, but I’ll add one anyway: dynamite in 1859? Really, Quentin! If either the Union or the CSA had been in possession of dynamite the war would have 20 times the number of movies about it that it has now.
Good observations about Stephen.
Dynamite was created in 1867. It’s almost old enough.
Candyland is one of the most notorious plantations in the South; Django says as much when he sees in the book of sale that Hildy has been purchased by Calvin Candie. “There’s not a slave in the South who hasn’t heard of Candyland,” he says. After reading the analysis of the character of Stephen these past few pages, it’s clear that he is the key, the reason it’s so notorious and horrible. Without him, Calvin would be just another mean white man. With him, he’s spectacularly awful — fighting men like they were dogs or chickens, keeping a box to torture recalcitrant slaves right in the front yard. You know what you’re dealing with when you ride onto the place: this is where evil is done to powerless people.
And it’s truly a special kind of evil; torture devices like the box and the collar were actually commonplace but I don’t think they were so out in the open as they were at Candyland. I’ve seen the floor-plan drawings of a Kentucky antebellum home (right in an Ohio River town on the Underground Railroad, no less!) which included a torture chamber for slaves in the attic. I thought this was weird, because I thought that’s where the nursery/children’s room was in big houses back then. But apparently this was considered a suitable place, not like the outbuilding at Candyland. I can’t imagine having people tortured right above your heads.
So anyway, perhaps it’s obvious but it’s the combination of smart and motivated Stephen and sadistic Calvin that made Candyland the horror it was. Surely such places were far and few between in the real South. The evil of merely owning other people and being owned is horrifying enough to contemplate.
I agree a prequel would be interesting. Judging from the way he talked to the women in the kitchens I’m guessing Stephen probably has ten times more concubines and bastards than his master and a fleeced fortune hidden somewhere as well as a “just in case”.
I agree with most of what you wrote, Sampiro, but not this.
His being a slave was not a technicality. The fake limp revealed at the end tells us in big bold letters what Stephen’s true position is. Despite all the pretty little trappings of privilege the Candie family gave him, despite being a trusted confidant, despite having free reign of the premises, despite all the brandy sipping in the library behind closed doors with Massa, Stephen was an emasculated* slave. He was forced, by his status as a black slave, to stoop in the very same house he supposedly ruled, and he stooped until the very end. This truth puts asunder the idea that he had power. He only had the illusion of power.
He did not have the option of leaving Candieland, even if he’d wanted. His privilege might have saved him from being put in the hotbox if he’d tried to run away, but that doesn’t mean he was free to go as he pleased.
To see Stephen as the powerful mastermind in this movie, you have to ignore or downplay evidence of his oppressed state. Tarantino, to his credit, provides us with these clues; but I think people are glossing over them because there is so little texture to Stephen as a character (he is more like a symbol). It’s like Tarintino (literally and figuratively) took a black magic marker and drew him into the movie.
*which makes the aborted castration scene ironic.
Actually some of the great Persian and Byzantine eunuch lords (Bagoas [not Alex’s lover but the power behind Darius III], John Orphanotrophus, and others) would be an interesting analogy.
Stephen had true power, as long as he stayed where he was and protected Candie. He couldn’t leave, but he didn’t really want to, since there was no way he would have anywhere near that nice a life, even if he moved up north with a smuggled fortune.
His lame act was an act to help protect his status, but that doesn’t negate the power he did wield, in that he could direct Candie and Candie knew to listen to him.
Candieland was the culmination of the sadistic and arrogant Candie with the support of the cunning and viscious Stephen. The two of them together made Candieland the notorious place it was.
I thought the point of Stephen was to enunciate a successful model for a slavery based business. It was Stephen who put Mrs Django in the hole in the ground and we learned that, pointedly, the first time we met him.
Notwithstanding Candie’s skull explanation, a slave owner could control so many slaves only through fear - and a fellow black invested in the business was far more fearsome than the white owner.
I guess the Nazis did a similar thing in the camps with Kapos.