Django
Directed by Sergio Corbucci
- action
- western
The story
A coffin-dragging gunslinger and a prostitute become embroiled in a bitter feud between a Klan of Southern racists and a band of Mexican Revolutionaries.
What it’s like
Gritty, mud-soaked and stark: this is the Italian western in its most feverish form, with wide, bleak landscapes under grey skies, dusty town squares shot at low angles, and a coffin dragged through every frame like a shadow with a purpose. Corbucci's camera lurches in close for sudden violence and pulls back to show empty, muddy ground, and the film's sound is all bullwhip cracks, squelching boots and a mournful, repeating theme that makes the whole thing feel like a fever dream. Vibe: lone-wolf grit, sun-scorched cynicism, a little feverish and loud. It suits a late-night watch with the lights low, or a rainy afternoon when you want something raw and unsentimental. Intensity is high: frequent, bloody gunfights, whippings, and cruelty, with a brutal tone and some sexual threat, not gentle at all. The arc follows a gruff, wounded outsider who slowly and grudgingly takes up a cause. It is for people who want a stylish, bruising western with a ruthless edge and a strong sense of atmosphere.
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