Katie, 20, from Auckland, New Zealand.
While I have all kinds of problems with the sort of glorified violence in the movie, Quentin Tarantino knows how to make a movie, he knows where to put a camera, he knows how to make something look, and he loves dialogue more than any other American filmmaker - he has the most distinct voice since Woody Allen - and I will listen to his dialogue and watch his composition for hours and hours and hours, so long as I remember to add the disclaimer, “Yikes!
You know you wanna.
Most of our childhood is stored not in photos, but in certain biscuits, lights of day, smells, textures of carpet.
But think about that when the hand-wringing starts about “Django Unchained” and ask yourself why the violence in this movie will suddenly seem so much more problematic, so much more regrettable, than what passes without comment in “Jack Reacher” or “Taken 2.” Mr. Tarantino is a virtuoso of bloodshed, that is for sure, and also more enamored of a particularly toxic racial slur than any decent white man should be. But decency in the conventional sense is not his concern, though in another sense it very much is. When you wipe away the blood and the anarchic humor, what you see in “Django Unchained” is moral disgust with slavery, instinctive sympathy for the underdog and an affirmation (in the relationship between Django and Schultz) of what used to be called brotherhood.