After reading Ian Jack’s impressions of a gruelling two-and-three-quarter hours in the cinema, I’m even more sure I don’t need to see “Django Unchained”:
[T]he subjects Tarantino finds consistently exciting are people being murdered, people screaming in pain, people begging for mercy. Boring might be the wrong word for these events, but their profusion takes away meaning. So much cruelty, so much noise, rehearsed and repeated until it satisfies the man-child in the director’s chair. The credits carry a statement promising that no horses have been hurt in the film’s making, and it comes as a slight surprise that they have been the only living things in real danger, other than our sensibilities and imaginations.