A stranger named Django is in town to kill everybody who’s not named Django in this sweaty Italian western. It brings all of the crucial elements, from the soaring trumpet, the grimy color, the pile of corpses and the ruthless anti-hero. He’s a real ice cube in the desert, a former soldier in the Civil War who’s traded his Confederate grays for all black and is now on a revenge kick over a grudge from the old days. His targets are rich men who have plenty of hired muscle to protect them, which just means more bodies for Django to blow away. The cool thing is how director Sergio Garrone treats Django almost like a horror movie slasher. He makes Django a part of the shadows, a phantom-like presence who can disappear whenever he wants. Django also doesn’t mind toying with his victims, some of whom are paralyzed with fear, before he pulls the trigger. It’s good spaghetti, extra marinara.
The literal English translation of the original Italian title is Django the Bastard, which is how the film played in some territories.