Dear Django Unchained,
There’s so much I can say about you. I loved you, I was fully engrossed throughout all two hours and forty-five minutes of your run time, and found the script to be wholly original and exciting. That’s not to say you were without your share of faults, however.
As stated, the run time of the film was just under three hours. Though I enjoyed the movie immensely, some parts did seem to drag for no apparent reason (the twenty minute trek through the wilderness to get to DiCaprio’s house, for example). Tarantino’s love of displaying text on-screen can also be distracting, as it was when “MISSISSIPPI” crawled across the screen for what felt like an eternity.
And while we’re on the subject of Mr. Tarantino, what the hell kind of cameo was that? We all know you insist on being in your own movies and we’ve come to accept it, but this one was by far the worst part of the whole film. Your chubby ass popped up out of nowhere as if to surprise the audience, but I was merely annoyed. Your presence completely removed me from my immersion in the story and forced me to shift uncomfortably until you went away. And what the hell was that accent? You made yourself sound like some sort of autistic Australian cowboy and apparently found it good enough to leave in the movie. Just stop, seriously. I’ll be a happier man if you keep making good movies and I never see your real face again.
In summation, good movie. Great movie, actually. Jamie Foxx, Christoph Waltz and Leonardo DiCaprio all did fantastic jobs, and the screenplay certainly deserved the Oscar bestowed upon it. Go see it. Just…close your eyes when the director shoves his stupid ass onto the screen. You can open them again when you hear gunshots.
Lose some weight and stop thinking of yourself as an actor, Quentin.