(70's western music) # Django. # Django, have you always been alone? # Django! # Django, have you never loved again? # Love will live on. # Life must go on. # For you cannot spend your life regretting. # Django. # Django, you must face another day. # Django. # Django, now your love has gone away. # Once you loved her, # now you've lost her. # But you've lost her forever, Django. # When there are clouds in the skies, # and they are grey, # you may be sad, but remember that love will pass away. # For Django, # after the showers, # the sun will be shining. (guitar solo) # Whilst you loved her, # now you've lost her. # But you've lost her forever, Django. # when there are clouds in the skies, # and they are grey, # you may be but remember # they will soon pass away. # For, Django, # after the showers, # the sun will be shining. # Django, # Django, you must go on. # Oh, Django. # (chains rattling) (wind whistling softly) (man gasping) Whoa. (horses grunting) (wagon creaking) Whoa. (wagon creaking) Who's that stumbling around in the dark?! State your business or prepare to get winged! (German accent): Calm yourselves, gentlemen. I mean you no harm. I'm simply a fellow weary traveller. Whoa, boy. Good cold evening, gentlemen. I'm looking for a pair of slave traders that go by the name of the Speck Brothers. Might that be you? Who wants to know? Well, I do. I'm Dr. King Schultz. -This is my horse, Fritz. -(horse sputters) What kind of doctor? Dentist. Now, are you the Speck Brothers? And did you purchase those men at the Greenville slave auction? So what? So, I wish to parley with you. Speak English. (chuckles): I'm sorry. Please forgive me. It is a second language. Now, amongst your inventory, I've been led to believe, is a specimen I'm keen to acquire. Hello, you poor devils! Is there one amongst you who was formerly a resident of the Carrucan plantation? I'm from the Carrucan plantation. Who said that? (strikes match) (panting) (shallow panting) What's your name? Django. Then you are exactly the one I'm looking for. Do you know who the Brittle Brothers are? Who are they? Big John. Ellis. Roger. Sometime they call him Little Raj. They was overseers at the Carrucan plantation. Not anymore. Tell me, if you were to see any of these three gentlemen again, would you recognize them? MAN: Hey. Stop talking to him like that. Like what? Like that. My good man, I'm simply trying to ascertain... -Speak English, goddamn it. -(horse neighs) Everybody calm down. I'm simply a customer trying to conduct a transaction. I don't care. No sale. Now, off with you. (scoffs) Don't be ridiculous. Of course they're for sale. Move it. My good man, did you simply get carried away with your dramatic gesture, or are you pointing your weapon at me with lethal intention? (gun cocks) Last chance, fancy pants. Oh, very well. (screaming) (continues screaming) (groaning loudly) (screaming) I'm sorry to put a bullet in your beast, but I didn't want you to do anything rash before you had a moment to come to your senses. You goddamn son of a bitch! You shot Roscoe! -Well... -And you killed Ace! I only shot your brother once he threatened to shoot me. And I do believe I have-- one, two, three, four-- five witnesses who can attest to that fact. Damn leg's busted! No doubt. Now, uh, if you could keep your caterwauling down to a minimum, I'd like to finish my line of inquiry with young Django. (screaming) God-fucking-damn it! As I was saying, if you were to see the Brittle Brothers again, you could recognize them? Yeah. Sold American! So Mr. Speck? Mr. Speck, how much for young Django here? That iron is nasty business. Oh, could you hold this for a moment? Thank you. Django, get up on that horse. Also, if I were you, I'd take that winter coat the dear departed Speck left behind. Nigger! Don't you touch my brother's coat. (screaming) Goddamn it! Oh! (groaning) One hundred, ten, twenty and five for young Django here. And since he won't be needing it anymore, I'd like to purchase your brother's nag. Also, Mr. Speck, I'm afraid I will require a bill of sale. Do you have one? You go to hell, dentist. (chuckles) I thought not. No worries. I come prepared. Thank you. This will serve nicely as a bill of sale. (horse grunting) Whoa. Now, as to you poor devils. So, as I see it, when it comes to the subject of what to do next, you gentlemen have two choices. One: once I'm gone, you could lift that beast off the remaining Speck, then carry him to the nearest town. Which would be at least 37 miles back the way you came. Or two: you could unshackle yourselves, take that rifle, put a bullet in his head, bury the two of them deep, and then make your way to a more enlightened area of this country. Choice is yours. Oh, and on the off chance there are any astronomy aficionados amongst you, the North Star is that one. Ta-ta. (clicks tongue) (wagon creaking) Now wait a minute, fellas. Let's talk about this. (chains rattling) You got to be reasonable in a situation like this. I'm not a bad guy. I just-- I'm just doing my job. Blueberry, didn't I give you my last apple? Tell you what, boys. Take me to the doc in El Paso, I'll get you your freedom. -(gun cocks) -No. No, please. (gunshot echoes) (western guitar music) (music continues) (pan flute solo) (music continues) (spring creaking) All right, now. I'd like you to take two of these tonight, -(coughs) -and then in the morning... That's a nigger on a horse. (western music resumes) (music continues) What's everybody staring at? They ain't never seen no nigger on a horse before. (goats bleating) Whoa. Good morning, innkeeper! Two beers for two weary travellers. Eh, it's still a bit early. We won't be open for another hour. By then, we'll be serving breakfast. (gasps) Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. What the hell you think you're doing, boy? Get that nigger out of here! (men shouting in distance) (panting) Help! Help! Innkeeper! Remember, get the sheriff, not the marshal. SALOON KEEPER: Sheriff! Help! Alas. Now we must act as our own bartender. Sit down, my boy. What kind of dentist are you? (laughs) Despite that cart, I haven't practiced dentistry in five years. But these days, I practice a new profession... ...bounty hunter. Do you know what a bounty hunter is? No. Well... the way the slave trade deals in human lives for cash, a bounty hunter deals in corpses. (clicks tongue) Hat. Prost. The state places a bounty on a man's head. I track that man, I find that man, I kill that man. After I've killed him, I transport that man's corpse back to the authorities. Sometimes that's easier said than done. I show that corpse to the authorities, proving yes, indeed, I truly have killed him. At which point, the authorities pay me the bounty. So, like slavery, it's a flesh for cash business. What's a bounty? It's like a reward. You kill people? And they give you a reward? Ooh, certain people, yeah. Bad people? Ah! Badder they are, bigger the reward. Which brings me to you. And I must admit, I'm at a bit of a quandary when it comes to you. On one hand, I despise slavery. On the other hand, I need your help. If you're not in a position to refuse, all the better. So, for the time being, I'm gonna make this slavery malarkey work to my benefit. Still, having said that, I feel guilty. So, I would like the two of us to enter into an agreement. I'm looking for the Brittle Brothers. However, at this endeavour, I'm-I'm at a slight disadvantage insofar as I don't know what they look like. But you do. Don't you? I know what they look like all right. Good. So here's my agreement. You travel with me until we find them. Where we going? I hear at least two of them are overseeing up in Gatlinburg, but I don't know where. That means we visit every plantation in Gatlinburg till we find them. And when we find them, you point them out, and I kill them. You do that, I agree to give you your freedom, $25 per Brittle Brother. That's $75. And, as if on cue, here comes the sheriff. (scoffs) Okay, boys. Fun's over. Come on out. (crowd murmuring) All right, folks, calm down. Go about your business. These jokers will be gone soon. Now, why y'all want to come into my town and start trouble? And scare all these nice people. You ain't got nothing better to do than to come into Bill Sharp's town and show your ass? (screaming) (woman screams) (groaning loudly) What'd you just do to our sheriff? (screaming) (gun cocks) (crowd screaming) Now you can get the marshal. SALOON KEEPER: Marshal! Marshal! Should we wait inside? Can we just leave? After you. Move that buckboard a long ways across the street from the saloon. I want six men, six rifles behind it. I want two men, two rifles up on this roof. Two men, two rifles on that roof. All the barrels aimed at that front door. Somebody get poor Bill out of the goddamn street. You in the saloon! We got a hundred rifles aimed at every way out of that building. You got one chance get out of this alive. You and your nigger come out right now with your hands over your head, and I mean right now. SCHULTZ: Is this the marshal I have the pleasure of addressing? Yes, it is. This is U.S. Marshal Gill Tatum. Na wunderbar, Marshal. I have relieved myself of all weapons, and just as you have instructed, I am ready to step outside with my hands raised above my head. I trust as a representative of the criminal justice system of the United States of America, I shan't be shot down in the street by either you or your deputies before I've had my day in court. You mean like you did our sheriff? Shot him down like a dog in the street. Yes, that's exactly what I mean! Do I have your word as a lawman not to shoot me down like a dog in the street? Well, much as we'd all enjoy seeing something like that, ain't nobody gonna cheat the hangman in my town! Fair enough, Marshal. Here we come. (quietly): They're a little tense out there. So don't make any quick movements, and let me do the talking. Come ahead. You unarmed? Yes, indeed we are. Marshal Tatum, may I address you and your deputies, and apparently the entire town of Daughtrey, as to the incident that just occurred? Go on. Thank you. My name is Dr. King Schultz. Like yourself, marshal, I'm a servant of the court. The man lying dead in the dirt, who the good people of Daughtrey saw fit to elect as their sheriff, who went by the name of Bill Sharp, is actually a wanted outlaw by the name of Willard Peck, with a price on his head of $200. Now, that's $200, dead or alive. The hell, you say! I'm aware this is probably disconcerting news. But I'm willing to wager this man was elected sheriff sometime in the past two years? Yeah. I know this because three years ago, he was rustling cattle from the B.C. Corrigan Cattle Company of Lubbock, Texas. Now, this is a warrant made out by circuit court judge Henry Allen Laudermilk of Austin, Texas. You're encouraged to wire him. He'll back up who I am and who your dear departed sheriff was. In other words, Marshal, you owe me $200. (bluesy western music) I'll be damned. # His name is King. # He had a horse. # Along the countryside # I saw him ride. # He had a gun. # I knew him well. # Oh, I heard him singing. # I knew he loved someone. # After this Brittle business is behind us, you'll be a free man with a horse, $75 in your back pocket. What's your plan after that? Find my wife, and buy her freedom. Django, I had no idea you were a married man. Do most slaves believe in marriage? (grunts) Me and my wife do. Old Man Carrucan didn't. That's why we, uh, we run off. CARRUCAN: Django. Django, Django. You got sand, Django. Boy's got sand. I got no use for a nigger with sand. I want you to burn a runaway "R" right here on his cheek. And the girl, too. (grunts) And I want you to take them to the Greenville auction and sell them. Both of them. Separately. And this one... ...you will sell him cheap. In Greenville... there should be some sort of a records office. You know when she was sold, you know where she came from, and you know her name. What is her name? Broomhilda. What? Broomhilda. Broomhilda? Mm-hmm. Were her owners German? Yeah, how you know? She wasn't born on the Carrucan plantation. She was raised by a German mistress, the Von Shafts. She speak a little German, too. -Your wife? -Mm-hmm. When she was little, her mistress taught her so she'd have someone to speak German with. Well, let me get this straight. Your slave wife speaks German and her name is Broomhilda Von Shaft? Yep. They call me Hildi. (dog barking in distance) (rooster crowing) (bell clanging in distance) When we gain access to these plantations, we'll be putting on an act. Mm-hmm. You'll be playing a character. Huh? No? During the act, you can never break character. Do you understand? Yeah. Don't break character. And your character is that of The Valet. What that is? That's a fancy word for servant. -Valet? -Mm-hmm. (chuckles) And now, Django, you may choose your character's costume. Youse gonna let me pick out my own clothes? But of course. # His name was King. # He had a horse. # Along the countryside # I saw him ride. # He had a gun. # Oh, I knew him well. # And when he shot, # oh, that man, he never missed. # That old King, right, you'll get your man. # Whoa. It's against the law for niggers to ride horses in this territory. This is my valet. My valet does not walk. I said niggers on horses... His name is Django. He's a free man. He can ride what he pleases. Not on my property. Not around my niggers, he can't. My good sir, perhaps we got off on the wrong boot. Allow me to unring this bell. My name is Dr. King Schultz. This is my valet, Django. And these are our horses, Tony and Fritz. (Fritz sputters, women laugh) Mr. Bennett, I've been led to believe that you are a gentleman and a businessman. And it is for these attributes we've ridden from Texas to Tennessee to parley with you now. I wish to purchase one of your nigger gals. You and your Jimmie rode from Texas to Tennessee to buy one of my nigger gals? No appointment, no nothing? Oh, I'm afraid so. Well, what if I was to say I don't like you? Or your fancy-pants nigger. And I wouldn't sell you a tinker's damn. Now what you got to say about that? Mr. Bennett. If you are the businessman I've been led to believe you to be, I have 5,000 things I might say that could change your mind. (chuckles softly) Well, come on inside and get yourself something cool to drink. Huh. Mm-hmm. (chuckles) Oh, maybe while we discuss business, you could provide one of your loveliest black creatures to escort Django here around your magnificent grounds. Oh, well, absolutely! Uh, uh, Betina. Yes, sir, Big Daddy? Uh, what's your Jimmie's name again? -Django. -Django. Betina, sugar, could you take Django there and take him around the grounds here and show him all the pretty stuff. As you please, Big Daddy. Oh, Mr. Bennett, I must remind you, Django is a free man. He cannot be treated like a slave. Uh, within the bounds of good taste, he must be treated as an extension of myself. Understood, Schultz. Betina, sugar? Yes'm? Django isn't a slave. Django is a free man, you understand? You can't treat him like any of the other niggers around here, 'cause he ain't like any of the other niggers around here. You got it? You want I should treat him like white folks? No. That's not what I said. Then I don't know what you want, Big Daddy. Yes, I can see that. Uh... What's the name of that peckerwood boy from town that works with the glass? Uh, his mama work over at the lumberyard. Oh, you mean Jerry. That's the boy's name. Jerry! You know Jerry, don't you, sugar? Yes'm, Big Daddy. Well, that's it, then. You just treat him like you would Jerry. CYMANDE'S 'BROTHERS ON THE SLIDE' # Brothers on the slide. # Working on the wrong side. # What ya gonna do? # You can't win, so you know you must lose. # We know... # which way you goin'. # (playing classical music) That house we just left from is The Big House. Big Daddy call it that 'cause it's big. That there is the pantry. That's where Big Daddy hang all his dead meat. Po' little squirrels. What you do for your massa? Didn't you hear him tell you I ain't no slave? So you really free? Yes, I's free. You mean you want to dress like that? -Betina, I need to ask you something. -What you want? I'm looking for three white men. Three brothers, overseers. Their name is Brittle. You know them? -Brittle? -Yes, Brittle. John Brittle, Ellis Brittle, Roger Brittle, sometime called Little Raj. I don't know them. They could be using a different name. They would've come to the plantation this past year. You mean the Shaffers? Maybe. Three brothers? Uh-huh. They here? Uh-huh. Could you point one of them out to me? Well, one's over in that field. DJANGO: Old Man Carrucan ain't gonna appreciate this, now. Sh-She work in the house, John. You-you mess her skin up, and you gonna mess her up, she ain't gonna be worth-- she ain't gonna be worth a damn thing. Now-now, your Bible say... # Felt like the weight of the world was on my shoulders. (gasps) Look, I-I told you that I was the one that made her do it. -You ready? -She didn't want to run off with me. If-if anybody should be getting whupped now, it should be me. It should be me, John. Now, I been here long enough, you know me-- you know me a long time, now. (dogs barking in distance) # Fate shouldn't feel like the truth, I discover. You know Massa Carrucan ain't gonna appreciate this. Sh-She's a house slave. She a house slave, she can't be... (whip cracks) (screaming) (dogs barking) # Looking for freedom. (whip cracks) (screaming) On my knees, I'm asking you this, please, sir. Ain't this what you want? I'm keeping it funny for you. Now, John, please. (whip cracks) (sobbing) I's on my knees, John. I like the way you beg, boy. (whip cracks) Is that who you was looking for? Yep. Where the other two at? They by the stable, punishing Little Jody for breaking eggs. They whipping Little Jody? Point me in that direction. You go to that tree and keep going that-a way. Go get that white man I came here with. -Come on, now. -No, no, please! -Come on, girlie! -Please! Come on. -Get you set up now. -No! "And the Lord said, 'The fear of ye... (whip cracks) ...and the dread of ye shall be on every beast of the earth.'" (whip cracks) -Hey, give me that arm! -I'll never break eggs again! -You better give me that arm. -Please, no! You better give me that arm. Okay, she ready! (whimpering softly) And after this, we'll see if you break eggs again. John Brittle! (old-style western showdown tune) You remember me? (gasps) I like the way you die, boy. Goddamn son of a bitch! (growls) (whip cracking) (screams) Keep it funny! (screams) (grunting) (groans) (groaning) Y'all want to see something? (gun cocks) No! (screams) (gun clicking) Who were they? That's Big John, that's Little Raj. Where's Ellis? He's the one hightailing it across that field right now. You sure that's him? Yeah. -Positive? -I don't know. -You don't know if you're positive? -I don't know what "positive" mean. It means you're sure. -Yes. -"Yes," what? Yes, I'm sure that's Ellis Brittle. (horse neighs) I'm positive he dead. Django! Everybody calm down. We mean no one else any harm. Who are you two jokers? I am Dr. King Schultz, a legal representative of the criminal justice system of the United States of America. The man to my left is Django Freeman. He's my deputy. In my pocket is a warrant, signed by circuit court judge Henry Allen Laudermilk of Austin, Texas, for the arrest and capture, dead or alive, of John Brittle, Roger Brittle and Ellis Brittle. They were going by the name Shaffer. You know them by the name of Shaffer, but the butchers' real name was Brittle. These are wanted men. The law wants them for murder. Now, I reiterate, the warrant states dead or alive, so when Mr. Freeman and myself executed these men on sight, we were operating within our legal boundaries. I realize passions are high, but I must warn you, the penalty for taking deadly force against an officer of the court in the performance of his duty is you'll be hung by the neck until you're dead. Now, may I please remove the warrant from my pocket so you may examine it? Gimme. Satisfied? May I have that back, please? Get off my land. Posthaste. Load up the bodies as quickly as you can and let's get out of here. (whistling tune) (continues whistling) Yeah, that's them sons of bitches. (horses galloping) (dramatic music) (men whooping, shouting) (music continues) Come on, men! Hyah! We're coming for you, nigger! (whooping, shouting continues) Now, unless they start shooting first, nobody shoot them. That's way too simple for these jokers. We're gonna whup that nigger-lover to death. And I'm gonna personally strip and clip that garboon myself. Damn. I can't see fucking shit out of this thing. W-We ready or what? Uh, hold on, I'm fucking with my eyeholes. -(fabric rips) -Oh. Oh, shit. Uh, I just made it worse. Who made this goddamn shit?! Willard's wife. Well, make your own goddamn masks! Look, nobody's saying they don't appreciate what Jenny did. Well, if all I had to do was cut a hole in a bag, I could've cut it better than this! What about you, Robert? Can you see? Not too good. I mean, if I don't move my head, I can see you pretty good, more or less. But when I start riding, the bag's moving all over, and I-I'm riding blind. -(fabric rips) -Shit. I just made mine worse. (spits) Anybody bring any extra bags? No! Nobody brought an extra bag! I'm just asking. Do we have to wear them when we ride? Oh, well, shitfire! If you don't wear them as you ride up, that just defeats the purpose! Well, I can't see in this fucking thing! I can't breathe in this fucking thing, and I can't ride in this fucking thing! Well, fuck all y'all! I'm going home! Now, I watched my wife work all day getting 30 bags together for you ungrateful sons of bitches, and all I can hear is criticize, criticize, criticize! From now on, don't ask me or mine for nothing! BIG DADDY: Now, look, let's not forget why we're here. We got a killer nigger over that hill there! And we got to make a lesson out of him. Okay, I'm confused. Are the bags on or off? I think we all think the bag was a nice idea. -Yeah. -Mm-hmm. But, not pointing any fingers, they could've been done better. So how 'bout no bags this time, but next time, we do the bags right and then we go full regalia. -I like that idea. -(men murmuring) You're getting my vote, Robert. BIG DADDY: Wait a minute! I didn't say no bags. But nobody can see. So? So it'd be nice to see. Goddamn it! This is a raid! I can't see, you can't see! So what? All that matters is can the fucking horse see! That's a raid! (men whooping, shouting) Sons of bitches! I can't see shit! BIG DADDY: There he is! Get that nigger out from under that wagon! Come on! And get that nigger-lover out of the wagon! That nigger ain't down here, Big Daddy! -What?! -They tricked us! Well, where are they? Auf Wiedersehen. Oh! (chuckles) Bull's-eye. (men screaming) DJANGO: Look at them run. (screaming continues) Yeah, cowards tend to do that. (shouting) BIG DADDY: Goddamn it! Would you care to? (gun cocks) Can't see shit out of this! He's getting away. I got him. Big Daddy's getting away. I got him. (grunts) Got him. (chuckles softly) The kid's a natural. How you know Broomhilda's first masters was German? Broomhilda's a German name. If they named her, it stands to reason they'd be German. Lots of gals where you're from named Broomhilda? Broomhilda is the name of a character in the most popular of all the German legends. There's a story about Broomhilda? Oh, yes, there is. Do you know it? Oh, every German knows that story. Would you like me to tell you? Well, Broomhilda was a... princess. She was a daughter of Wotan, god of all gods. Anyway, her father is really mad at her. What she do? I can't exactly remember. Sh-She disobeys him in some way. So he puts her on top of the mountain. Broomhilda's on a mountain? It's a German legend; there's always going to be a mountain in there somewhere. And he puts a fire-breathing dragon there to guard the mountain. And he surrounds her in a circle of hellfire. And there, Broomhilda shall remain. Unless a hero arises brave enough to save her. Does a fella arise? Yes, Django, as a matter of fact, he does. A fella named Sigfried. Does Sigfried save her? Quite spectacularly so. He scales the mountain, because he's not afraid of it. He slays the dragon, because he's not afraid of him. And he walks through hellfire... because Broomhilda's worth it. I know how he feel. I think I'm just starting to realize that. Now, look, Django. I don't doubt that one day you'll save your lady love, but I can't let you go to Greenville in a good conscience. A slave auction town in Mississippi isn't the place for you to visit. Free or not, it's just too dangerous. But let me ask you a question. How do you like the bounty hunting business? Kill white folks and they pay you for it? What's not to like? Now, I have to admit, we make a good team. I thought you was mad at me for killing Big John and Little Raj. Yeah, on that occasion you were a tad overzealous, but normally, that's a good thing. How'd you like to partner up for the winter? What you mean "partner up"? You work with me through the winter till the snow melts, I give you a third of my bounties. So we make some money this winter, and when the snow melts, I'll take you to Greenville myself and we'll find where they sent your wife. Why you care what happen to me? Why you care if I find my wife? Frankly, I've never given anybody their freedom before. And now that I have, I feel vaguely responsible for you. Plus, when a German meets a real-life Sigfried, that's kind of a big deal. As a German, I'm obliged to help you on your quest to rescue your beloved Broomhilda. (Jim Croce's 'I got a name') # Like the pine trees lining the winding road, # I've got a name. # I've got a name. # Like the singing bird and the croaking toad, # I've got a name. # I've got a name, # and I carry it with me like my daddy did. # But I'm living the dream # that he can't build. # Moving me down the highway, # rolling me down the highway # Moving ahead, so life won't pass me by. # Like the north wind whistling down the sky, # I've got a song. # I've got a song. # Like the whippoorwill and the baby's cry, # I've got a song. # I've got a song. And I carry it with me and I sing it loud. # If it gets me nowhere, # I go there proud. # Moving me down the highway, # rolling me down the highway. # Moving ahead so life won't pass me by. (guitar solo) (music fades) MAN: You got her. Ooh, what happened to Mr. "I Want to Shoot White Folks for Money"? His son's with him. Well, good. He'll have a loved one with him. Maybe even share a last word. That's better than most of them get. Damn sight better than he deserves. Put down the rifle. Don't worry, I'm not mad at you. Let's take out Smitty Bacall's handbill. Read it aloud. Consider that today's lesson. reads haltingly: "Wanted... dead or alive. Smitty Bacall and the Smitty Bacall G..." Gang. "Gang. "For murder and s-stagecoach ro... "r-robbery. Seven, zero, zero, zero..." Seven thousand. -Sev... -Thousand. "$7,000 for Smitty Bacall. $1,500 for each of his gang m..." Mem... "Members. Known members of the Smitty Bacall Gang are as follas." Follows. "Follows. Dandy Michaels, Gerald Nash and..." Crazy Craig Koons. That is who Smitty Bacall is. If Smitty Bacall wanted to start a farm at 22, they would never have printed that. But Smitty Bacall wanted to rob stagecoaches, and he didn't mind killing people to do it. Do you want to save your wife by doing what I do? This is what I do. I kill people and sell their corpses for cash. This corpse is worth $7,000. Now quit your pussyfooting and shoot him. (gun cocks) (horse neighs) (boy chuckles) Pa? Pa! Here. You need to keep this Smitty Bacall handbill. Why? It's good luck. You always keep the handbill of your first bounty. (70s Western music) (music continues) That's accurate. (gunfire) (men grunting) Doctor, Django, how the hell are you? Who the hell have you got there? The Wilson-Lowe Gang. Who the hell is the Wilson-Lowe Gang? Bad Chuck Wilson and meaner Bobby Lowe and three of their acolytes. Huh. Well, just leave them out here; they ain't going nowhere. Why don't you come in then out of the snowy snow and get yourselves some coffee. We had a birthday yesterday. Got some cake. Pretty good. (chains rattling) -Move along! -In line! Do it, boy! Keep moving. Get on up there auction block. Don't let that mud slow you down. Keep going. Come on. Keep going. SCHULTZ: "Broomhilda Von Shaft. "Age 27. "'R' on right cheek. Calvin Candie." He owns the fourth biggest cotton plantation in Mississippi, Candyland. Candyland? Oh, so you've heard of it. Ain't no slave ain't heard of Candyland. Well, apparently, that's where your wife is, and that's the repellent gentleman who owns her. -Yeah, right. -Let's just hope she works in the house, not in the field. Oh, no, she ain't no field nigger. She-she pretty. And she talk good, too. But when they tore her back up and then they... burned that runaway "R" on her cheek, they goddamned her. (gasping) (screaming) She ain't no field nigger, but she ain't good enough for the house no more either. They gonna try to make her a comfort girl. What's a comfort...? Oh. Not while I got freedom. Not while I got my gun. So do we offer to buy her? So... say... a man wants to buy a horse. Needs to buy a horse. He walks up to the farmer's farm, and he knocks on the farmer's door, and asks the farmer to buy his horse. And do you know what the farmer says? The farmer says no. Well, I say fuck that farmer. And I'm 'a steal that horse. Fair enough. But now you're a horse thief, and they hang horse thieves. Not to mention the horse goes back to its original owner, because the horse is still his property. We need her and we need a bill of sale. Well, if we ain't gonna try to buy her, then how we gonna get her? May I offer an alternative plan of action? Go ahead. So... the man walks up to the farmer's farm, he knocks on the farmer's door, and asks not to buy the horse but the farm. -Mm. -And makes an offer so ridiculous the farmer is forced to say yes. We gonna offer to buy Candyland? No, it's far too big. But apparently, this farmer ain't all about the farm. How much do you know about Mandingo fighting? What? Can you convincingly masquerade as someone who is an expert on Mandingo fighting? Why? SCHULTZ (voice-over): Because my character is that of a big money buyer from Dusseldorf here in Greenville to buy my way into the Mandingo fight game. And your character is a Mandingo expert I hired to help me do it. DJANGO (voice-over): They call that "One-Eyed Charly." Bonjour. Bonsoir, ma petite femme noire. We're here to see Mr. Calvin Candie. Entrez. Thank you. You want me to play a black slaver? Ain't nothing lower than a black slaver. A black slaver is lower than the head house nigger. And, buddy, that's pretty fucking low. Then play him that way. Give me your black slaver. CROWD: # His heart was all a-flutter # Along came the 219 # Toot-toot! # Peanut butter... # (singing continues faintly) Dr. Schultz! Good to see you again! Mr. Moguy. Thank you for your assistance in creating the opportunity for this appointment. Nonsense, it's my job. So this is the One-Eyed Charly I've heard so much about. Yes, this is Django Freeman. Django, this is Mr. Candie's lawyer, Leonide Moguy. Just call me Leo. Calvin's in the Julius Caesar room. You all want to follow me? SCHULTZ: How long have you been associated with Mr. Candie? Oh, Calvin's father and I were about 11 when we went to boarding school together. Calvin's father's father put me through law school. One could almost say I was raised to be Calvin's lawyer. One could almost say youse a nigger. What did you say? I said... Nothing, he's just being cheeky. Uh, anything else about Mr. Candie that I should know before I meet him? Yes, he is a bit of a Francophile. Ah, what civilized people aren't? And he prefers Monsieur Candie to Mr. Candie. He doesn't speak French. Don't speak French to him; it'll embarrass him. (men grunting, pool balls clacking) CANDIE: Get back on top, now! Turn around! There you go. -Dai, Luigi. -There you go. (men continue grunting) Why do you want to get in the Mandingo business? You don't intend to allow your second to make the proper introductions? Quit stalling, now. Answer the question. The awful truth? I'm bored. This seems like a good bit of fun. Well, come on over. We got us a fight going on that's a good bit of fun. MAN: Dai, Lui, dai. Won't you accompany me to the bar? You don't wear a hat in the house, white man. Even I know that. (men continue grunting) Dr. Schultz. What a rare pleasure... Keep fighting, niggers. ...and I might add, an honour. Honour to meet you. -Please have a seat. -Roscoe! The pleasure's all mine. Get free man Django here whatever he wants. And I'll have sweet tea and bourbon. (men continue grunting) (men yelling) CANDIE: Use your weight, boy, use your weight! There you go! He's much bigger and stronger! Come on, now! Ah, he's not doing what I told him, for God's sakes. Bravo, bravo, Luigi. Cosi dai! Dai che sei piu rapido! Come on, now, boy! It's a fight to the death! (men yelling) You either hit him or are you ain't?! -(straining) -Mettilo con le spalle al tappeto! Le spalle al tappeto! Giu! Big Fred, come on! CANDIE: Turn him around! Now...! (men yelling) Use your strength, boy! -No, no! -Come on, now! Use your strength! There you go! (men yelling) There you go! Look at that! See, I told you to put some more power in there. Do what I told you, boy! There you go! No! (bone snaps) CANDIE: Do what I told ya! Blind him black, boy! Blind him black! (man screaming) Oh, no, Luigi. (straining) (man screaming) Whoo! Whoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo! (screaming) Oh! (panting) Oh! (man continues screaming) (pool balls clacking) Finish him. Go on, boy, finish him! (hammer clanks, screaming stops) MOGUY: That's why they call him Big Fred. Worth every penny. Well, arrivederci, Luigi. Come on up, now, boy. Get yourself a rest. You did a fine job! A real fine job! Mercedes. (pool balls clacking) Tequila. What's your name? Django. Can you spell it? D-J-A-N-G-O. The "D" is silent. I know. Umberto, andiamo. CANDIE: Mr. Moguy, want you to take care of my new boy here. You find him a room with a soft bed, then you bring him up a pony to lick his pole. But you be ready to travel to Candyland tomorrow morning, now, ya hear? Yes, sir, Monsieur Candie. Uh, before you go, Roscoe, get Fred here a tall beer. You enjoy that, boy. You've earned it. Yes, sir. What's your name, boy? His name is Django Freeman. Hmm. Where'd you dig him up? A fortuitous turn of events brought Django and myself together. I've heard tell about you. I heard you been telling everybody them Mandingos ain't no damn good. Ain't nothing nobody is selling is worth buying. I'm curious, what makes you such a Mandingo expert? I'm curious what makes you so curious. What did you say, boy? Calm down, Butch. No offense given, none taken. SCHULTZ: Uh, Monsieur Candie, um, I'd appreciate if you could direct your line of inquiry toward me. CANDIE: One... you do not have anything to drink. Can I get you a tasty refreshment? Yes! I'll have a beer. Wunderbar. Roscoe, a beer for the man with the beard, and I will have a Polynesian Pearl Diver. Do not spare the rum. -Doc... -Yes. I am a seasoned slaver. You are-- well, you are a neophyte. I'm simply trying to ascertain if this cowboy here is taking advantage of you. With all due respect, Monsieur Candie, I didn't seek you out for your advice. I sought you out to purchase a fighting nigger at above top-dollar market price. Now, I was under the impression, when you granted me an audience, it would be to discuss business. Well, we weren't talking business yet. We were discussing my curiosity. Thank you. Roscoe, Coco, go outside and play. Sheba, you stay right there. I know you didn't mean me. Prost! German. Now, according to Moguy, if I do business with you, I'm doing business with both y'all. He does the eyeballing, you the billfold? Is that it? (chuckles): Well, you don't make it sound too flattering, but more or less, yeah. Mm. So... Bright Boy, Moguy tells me you looked over my African flesh and you was none too impressed, huh? Not for top dollar. Well, then, we got nothing more to talk about. You see, you want to buy a beat-ass nigger from me, those are the beat-ass niggers I want to sell, so... He don't want to buy the niggers you want to sell. He wants the nigger you don't want to sell. Well, I don't sell the niggers I don't want to sell. Well, you won't sell your best. You won't even sell your second best. But your third best? You don't want to sell him either. But if I made you an offer so ridiculous you'd be forced to consider it, (laughs): who knows what could happen? And what do you consider ridiculous? For a truly talented specimen, "The Right Nigger"? (inhales sharply) How much would you say, Django? $12,000. (slurps) (smacks lips) Well, gentlemen, you had my curiosity, but now you have my attention. (uneasy drumbeat) (drumbeat continues) CANDIE: Willie. Willie. Hold up. Hold up. Ah! Good morning, gentlemen. Good Dr. Schultz. Beautiful morning, isn't it? You couldn't have picked a better one. Please, won't you take a ride with us here in the Victoria. SCHULTZ: Oh. Thank you very much. You can tie your horse up back there. Django. CANDIE (voice-over): Where I part company from many of my phrenologist colleagues is I believe there is a level above bright, above talented, above loyal, that a nigger can aspire to. Say, one nigger that just pops up in 10,000. The exceptional nigger. Bright day, huh, Bright Boy? Sun is up. Shining on all of us. Have a seat, Doc. SCHULTZ: Thank you. Quite an honour. -The honour is all ours. -Thank you. CANDY (voice-over): But I do believe that given time, exceptional niggers like Bright Boy here become if not frequent, more frequent. Right, boy? You are that one in 10,000. The name of the game is keep up, not catch up, nigger. (men laughing) -Whoa! -(horse neighs) Touch your guns, you die. CANDIE: Everybody, calm down! Now I saw the whole thing. No harm done. Are-are you kidding me? This nigger just... I said no harm done! Now take your hand off your pistol! Butch, that means you, too. Everybody stop antagonizing my guest. Hoot! Get back up on your horse. He broke my collarbone! For God's sake, somebody please help Hoot here back up on his goddamn horse. MAN: Yes, sir, boss. Oh, now you are one lucky nigger. You better listen to your boss, white boy. Oh, I'm gonna go walking in the moonlight with you. You want to hold my hand? (laughs) (clicks tongue) CANDIE: Willie, take us home. MAN: Here we go. Start moving. Head 'em out! (chain-gang music) raps: # I need a hundred black coffins for a hundred bad men. # A hundred black crates that I can lay their ass in. # I need a hundred black preachers with a black sermon to tell, # from a hundred black bibles, while we send 'em all to hell. # I need a hundred black coffins, # black coffins, # black coffins. # I need a hundred black coffins, # black coffins. # Oh, Lord, # black coffins. # I need a hundred. # You got a problem with your eyeball, boy? No, sir. You want a boot heel in it? No, sir. Then you keep your goddamn eyeballs off me. You flash that bad look at me again, I'll give you a reason not to like me. Now move, nigger! You niggers are gonna understand something about me. I'm worse than any of these white men here. You get the molasses out your ass, you keep your goddamn eyeballs off me. He is a rambunctious sort, ain't he? (chuckles): Indeed. May we stop for a moment so I may put a word in my man's ear? I'm expecting to fall in love once I see the specimens at Candyland, so before that moment, it would be good if I could have a confidential strategy meeting with my confidant. You mind telling me what the hell you doing? I confirmed that Broomhilda's at Candyland. You're sure it's her? He didn't call her by name, but she's a young lady, whip marks on her back and speaks German. Now, while it's not wise to assume, in this instance, I think it's pretty safe. Point being, don't get so carried away with your retribution. You lose sight of why we're here. You think I lost sight of that? Yes, I do. Stop antagonizing Candie. You're going to blow this whole charade, or more than likely get us both killed. And I, for one, don't intend to die in Chickasaw County, Mississippi, USA. I'm not antagonizing him. I'm intriguing him. You're-you're yelling abuse at these poor slaves. I recall the man who had me kill another man in front of his son, and he didn't bat a eye. You remember that? Yeah, of course I remember. What you said was, was that this is my world, and in my world, you got to get dirty. So that's what I'm doing. I'm getting dirty. Well, you're paraphrasing a tad, but-but... that was the general gist. (sighs) See you at Candyland. All right, niggers, back at it. That means you, too, Moonlight. (dogs barking in distance) (dogs barking frantically) CANDIE: I'll be. D'Artagnan! Now, boy, why do a fool thing like run off? I can't fight no more, Monsieur Candie. Yes, you can. You-You might not be able to win, but your ass can fight. Mr. Stonesipher, would you please shut these goddamn dogs up?! I cannot hear myself think! Quieten down, Marsha! Marsha, hush up! Marsha! Hush up! Hey! Get these goddamn dogs away from this nigger! (barking stops) Well, now, boy, get on out that tree. D'ARTAGNAN: Yes, sir. (dogs barking) (boots squish) How long was he loose? A night. Day. Half the other night. How far he get off the property? 'Bout 20 miles off prop. Pretty far considering that limp he got. Mm. Mr. Moguy, who was, uh, D'Artagnan supposed to fight on Friday? One of this new lot. Well, way he looks now, a blind Indian wouldn't bet a bead on him. D'ARTAGNAN (sobbing): Please, Monsieur Candie, I ain't got it in me no more. -Now, now, now, now, now, now, now, now. -I can't... Now, no-no begging. No playing on my soft heart. You in trouble now, son. (sobbing): Yes, sir. Now, I done, I done paid $500 for you. When I pay $500, then I expect to get five fights out of a nigger 'fore he roll over and play dead. Sir. Got to understand that I'm-I'm running a business here. You-you fought three fights. But I won every one. Yes, you did. Yes, you did. But that last one, you muddled the line between winning and losing. Yes, sir. Still, the fact remains: I pay $500, I want five goddamn fights! So what about my $500, huh? What about my $500? You gonna reimburse me? You even know what "reimburse" means? -(men laughing) -Huh? (laughter continues) I'll reimburse you! You will? Yep. You'll pay $500 for practically a one-eyed old Joe ain't fit to push a broom? No, he won't. He just tired of you toying with him is all. Matter of fact, so am I. But we ain't paying a penny for that pickaninny. Ain't got no use for him. Ain't that right, Doc? You heard him. You're gonna have to excuse Mr. Stonesipher's slack-jawed gaze. He ain't never seen a nigger like you ever in his life. Ain't that right, Mr. Stonesipher? That right. CANDIE: For that matter, nor have I. Now, um... seeing as you won't pay a penny for this pickaninny here... ...you won't mind me handling this nigger any way I see fit? He's your nigger. Mr. Stonesipher? Let Marsha and her bitches send D'Artagnan to nigger heaven. -Marsha! -(dogs barking frantically) Marsha, hey, get him! Git 'im, git 'im! Hey! Whoo! Whoo-wee! (dogs snarling) (screaming) (screaming continues) (bone cracking, D'Artagnan screaming) Your boss looks a little green around the gills for a blood sport like nigger fighting. Nah. He just ain't used to seeing a man ripped apart by dogs is all. Oh. You are used to it? I'm just a little more used to Americans than he is. Huh. Now, Monsieur Candie, whenever you're ready. We rode five hours so you could show off your stock. Let's get to it. 'Cause as of now, if he's an example, I ain't impressed. Follow me. (Jerry Goldsmith's 'Nicaragua') (clicks tongue) (music continues) Line them up to the left here now, boy. Stand up straight, now! Come on. Get up there. Get up there, boy. Come on. I said give me a line! Give me a line! Get in line there! Straighten up! (music continues) (men talking quietly) Hello! Stephen, my boy! Yeah, yeah, yeah. Hello, my ass. Who this nigger up on that nag? Aw, Stephen, you have nails for breakfast? What's the matter? Why you so ornery? You miss me, huh? (laughs): Oh, yes, sir. I miss you like a, like a hog miss slop! Like a, like a-a baby miss mammy's titty. (laughter) I miss you like I misses a rock in my shoe. (laughs) Now, I asked you: who this nigger on that nag? Hey, Snowball. Want to know my name or the name of my horse, you ask me. Just who the hell you calling "Snowball," horse boy? I snatch your black ass off that nag there and in the mud so fast, make your head spin. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Stephen, Stephen, Stephen, Stephen. Let's keep it funny. Django here's a Freeman. This nigger here?! That nigger there. Let me at least introduce the two of you. Django, this is another cheeky black bugger like yourself, Stephen. Stephen, this here's Django. You two ought to hate each other. Calvin, just who the hell is this nigger you feels the need to entertain? Django and his friend in grey here, Dr. Schultz, are customers. And they are our guests, Stephen, and you, you old decrepit bastard, ought to show them every hospitality. -You understand that? -Yes, sir. Him I understand, but I don't know why I got to take lip off this nigger. You don't have to know why. Do you understand? Yes, sir. I-I understand. Well, good. Now, they're spending the night. Go up in the guest bedrooms, get two ready. He gonna stay in The Big House?! Stephen, he's a slaver. It's different. In The Big House?! Well, you got a problem with that? Aw, no, no. I ain't got no problem with it, if you ain't got no problem with burning the bed, the sheets, the pillowcases, everything else when this black-ass motherfucker's gone! Now, that is my problem! They are mine to burn! Now, your problem right now is making a good impression! And I want you to start solving that problem right now and get them goddamn rooms ready! Yes, sir, Monsieur Candie. Go on, now. Can't believe you brought a nigger to stay in The Big House. Your daddy rolling over in his goddamn grave right now. -Man, the lip on him. -Put a nigger in The Big House. Whew! He's getting worse and worse. Stephen: What shit is that? -Now, where is my beautiful sister?! There she is! Whoo-hoo! Dr. Schultz, this attractive Southern belle is my widowed sister. Darling, you are a tonic for tired eyes. May I present to you Lara Lee Candie-Fitzwilly. MAN: Chester, Rodney, Chicken Charly. Y'all get your ass over by that pen. -Come on, Charly. -Come on, now! -Let's go. -Come on, now. You know where it is. Like you on a rope! Niggers don't walk around here, niggers run! SCHULTZ: Uh, Monsieur Candie? Mm? Yeah. About that matter about the nigger girl -we were talking about? -Nigger gal? Yeah, I believe you mentioned she spoke German. (gasps) Ah, yes! Hildi-- what about her? D-Do you think before the demonstration, you could send her around to my room? (chuckles): You little dickens, you. (chuckles) I don't see why not. Stephen, when you get through showing them to their rooms, go fetch Hildi, get her cleaned up and smelling real nice, and sent over to Dr. Schultz's room here. Actually, Monsieur Candie, sir, there's something I ain't, I ain't told you 'bout yet. What? Uh, Hildi in The Hot Box. CANDIE: W-What's she doing there? STEPHEN: What you think she doing there in The Hot Box? She being punished. CANDIE: What she do? STEPHEN: She run off again. Jesus Christ, Stephen, how many people ran away while I was gone?! Two. -When did she go? -Last night. They-they brung her back this morning. How bad did Stonesipher's dogs tear her up? -Lucky for her, -(gun cocks) they was out chasing D'Artagnan's ass. Uh, Bill and Cody went looking for her, found her, brung her back. Uh, now, she a little beat-up. -Mm. -But-but she done that to her own damn self running through them damn bushes and shit. CANDIE: How long she been in the box? STEPHEN: H-How long do you think she been in there? All damn day! And the little bitch got ten more days be in there. Still, take her out. Take her out?! Why?! Because I said so, that's why. Dr. Schultz is my guest. Hildi is my nigger. Southern hospitality dictates I make her available to him. But, Monsieur Candie, she run off. Jesus Christ, Stephen. What is the point of having a nigger that speaks German if you can't wheel them out when you have a German guest? -I-I... -Now, I realize it is inconvenient, but still, you take her ass out. Yes, sir. CANDIE: Lara Lee! Will you and Cora be responsible for getting Hildi cleaned up and presentable for Dr. Schultz here. LARA: Of course, darling. Now, gentlemen, I do apologize, but I am weary from our travels beyond words. It is time for me to rest my tired eyes. (clicks tongue) STEPHEN: Y'all done heard the man! Get her ass up out of there! Cora! Come here! Get over there and get her cleaned up, bring her back over here to Doctor-- W-What he say your name is? Shoots? -Schultz. -Schultz. Get her back over here. -Hurry up, girl. -Yes, sir. (soft guitar music) (music builds) (screaming) Come on, girl. Stand up. Come on. BROOMHILDA: No! No! (gasping) (screaming) (sobbing loudly) Is you coming with me or is you gonna sleep in that little box over yonder? Vodafone has great offers on broadband right now, so there's one to suit your home. If you're after great value, here's a home phone and broadband package. It's everything you need for just $69, with 40gb of standard broadband. And if you're after superfast speeds, here's an offer that gets your home going to up to three times faster for free. That's VDSL speeds at ADSL prices. Choose the ultimate broadband deal that suits your home. Call Vodafone now to sign up. (soft guitar music) (woman sings mournfully in Spanish) (music and singing continues) (music softens) (sighs) Hello, ladies. Dr. Schultz. May I introduce to you Broomhilda? Hildi, this is Dr. Schultz. It's a pleasure to meet you, Broomhilda. I've heard a lot of good things about you. Well, it's not every nigger speaks German, don't you know. (laughing) As I look at you now, Broomhilda, I can see all the passions you inspire are completely justified. The doctor here speaks German. And I've been informed you do, as well? Go ahead, girl. Speak a little German. Huh! (laughs) Astonishing. -And I shall bring... -SCHULTZ: Much obliged. Ja. (distant crickets chirping) Sie brauchen keine Angst zu haben. Don't be afraid. (distant birdcall) Oh. Pardon. Danke. (sniffs) (laughing) (chuckles) Ich verspreche es. Hey, Little Trouble Maker. (exhales sharply) (glass clangs on floor) You silver-tongued devil, you. -Hurry up, girl. -These ready, Miss Cora. No, no, no, they drinking tonight. Go downstairs, get the big jug with the red stuff Monsieur Candie like, hear? Yes, ma'am. I know which one you talking about. Get your big, pretty ass out the way. -You know you like it. -(chuckles) That's 'cause you knows what I like. Ooh! Come on with these biscuits, girl. SCHULTZ: Look, Monsieur Candie, they were all fine specimens, no doubt about it. But the best three by far were Samson... Uh, what's that other one's name? -Goldie. -Goldie... and Eskimo Joe. By the way, why is he called Eskimo Joe? (laughing): You never know how these nigger nicknames get started. His name was Joe, maybe one day he said he was cold. -Who knows? -(laughter) Thank you. Well, regardless, Samson's your best. We all know that. You will never sell him, and I can see why. He's a champion. Mm-mm-mm. All three are champions. Samson's the champion. Them other two pretty good. STEPHEN: Calvin, now, what's this nigger you let... Uh-uh. It's all right. It's all right. SCHULTZ: You have to understand, Monsieur Candie, while admittedly a neophyte in the nigger fight game, I do have a little bit of a background in the European traveling circus. Is that right? SCHULTZ: Hence, I have big ideas when it comes to presentation. Hmm. I need something more than just a big nigger. Yeah, he needs to have panache. -Mm-hmm. -Need to have what? Wh-What? Panache. Uh... A sense of showmanship. Showmanship, yes. I want to be able to bill him as the Black Hercules. (laughter) CANDIE: The Black Hercules! Isn't that clever? More like Nigger-les. (laughter) I said, and I quote, "I would pay top dollar for 'The Right Nigger.'" Now, I'm not saying that Eskimo Joe is the wrong nigger, per se, but is he right as rain? Oh, Dr. Schultz, I will have you know there is no one in the nigger fight game that appreciates the value of showmanship more than Monsieur Calvin J. Candie here. Nobody. But one must not forget the most important thing -in the nigger fight game. -Mm-hmm. And that is a nigger that can win fights. -STEPHEN: Mm-hmm. -CANDIE: Now, that should be your first, second, third, fourth and fifth concern. Now, after you have that and you know you have that, then you can start to implement a grand design. Mm-hmm. In other words, first thing is first. First thing's first. (snaps fingers) (indistinct whispering) -(laughs) -CANDIE: Ooh! I see you two getting on. Famously. Oh, Monsieur Candie, you cannot imagine what it's like not to hear your native tongue in four years. Well, hell, I can't imagine two weeks in Boston. (laughter) Two weeks in Boston! -Monsieur Candie, you a mess! -(coughing) Two weeks in Boston! (laughter continues) SCHULTZ: I can't express the joy I felt conversing in my mother tongue. And Hildi is a charming conversation companion. CANDIE: Well, be careful, now, Dr. Schultz. You might have caught yourself a little dose of nigger love. -Nigger love's a powerful emotion, boy. -Mmm! It's like a pool of black tar. Once it catches your ass, you're caught. Yes, sir, you stuck. (laughs) LARA: I don't know, Doctor. You can lay on all the German sweet talk you want, but it looks like this pony's got big eyes for Django. (Lara chuckling) Well, naturally. It is the soaring eagle that attracts her attention, not the plucked chicken. (laughter) CANDIE: Dr. Schultz, don't be so down on yourself. You are quite the dapper European gentleman. CORA: You got to clean these dishes. You got to put your elbow in these dishes. You hear me? You understand? You know that nigger, don't you? Who? "Who?" Don't "who" me, bitch. You know who I'm talking about. At the table? I don't know him. You don't know him? No. "No," what? No, sir. (chuckling) You wouldn't lie to me, now, would you? Okay. (sighing): Yeah. If... if you say so. Eskimo Joe's a quality nigger, no doubt about it. But if it was my money, I wouldn't pay no $12,000 for him. What would your price be? Well, if I was inclined to be generous-- and I don't know why I would be inclined to be generous-- $9,000... maybe. CANDIE: Dr. Schultz, let me reclarify how this whole negotiation came about. You see, it wasn't me who came to you to sell a nigger. -Sure wasn't. -It was you who approached me to buy one. Sure was. Now, that $9,000 figure Bright Boy's been bandying about, that ain't too far off from right, and if I wanted to sell Eskimo Joe for that, I could do so any day of the week. Any day. But like you said in Greenville, Doctor, I don't want to sell him. It was only your ridiculous offer of $12,000 that made me even consider it. Mm-hmm. (inhales deeply) You know, Monsieur Candie, you do possess the power of persuasion. (chuckles) -(bangs table) -Why not? Monsieur Candie, you have a deal-- Eskimo Joe, $12,000. Hooray, Doctor, hooray. And a wise decision that is. SCHULTZ: However, that is a tremendous amount of money. And the way you have your Mr. Moguy, I have a lawyer. Persnickety man named Tuttle. And I would need my Mr. Tuttle to draw up a legal contract before I'd feel comfortable exchanging that amount of money for flesh. -Mm-hmm. -Not to mention having Eskimo Joe examined by a physician of my choosing. Naturally. So, say I return in about... ...five days' time. Five days? With my Mr. Tuttle. And then my Mr. Tuttle and your Mr. Moguy can hash out the finer details between themselves. I say splendid, Doctor. Splendid. Gentlemen, may I propose a toast? To Eskimo Joe. Or shall we call him the Black Hercules? (laughter) To the Black Hercules. STEPHEN: The Black Hercules! To the Black Hercules. Prost. STEPHEN: You was right, Doctor. That name do have "pan-ass." (laughing) Mmm. Hildi, top my drink off. So, Hildi, how you like serving at the big table in the Big House, huh? When Monsieur Candie talk to you, you answers. I like it a lot, Monsieur Candie. CANDIE: Mm-hmm. It's a lot better than sizzling in that Hot Box or dragging your ass through a bramble bush. But maybe it's not quite as much fun as getting to pleasure all them Mandingos, huh, sugar bear? Uh-uh. Oh, Lord, she like them niggers. Sure do. -Like Samson? Huh? -BROOMHILDA: No, sir. STEPHEN: You know, Monsieur Candie, the doctor here might be interested in seeing Hildi's peeled back, seeing as how they don't have many niggers where he come from. CANDIE: Dr. Schultz, when you was alone with Hildi here, did you... did you just speak German, or did you get to take her clothes off? No, we just talked and... CANDIE: Oh, so... so you haven't seen her back? I haven't. No, no, no, no. Stephen's right. You might find this interesting. Mm-hmm. Sure is, sure is. Hildi, go on, take off your dress. Show Dr. Schultz your back here. Go on. LARA: Uh, Calvin, I just got her all dressed up and looking nice. But, Lara Lee, Dr. Schultz is from Dusseldorf. They don't got niggers there. He is a man of medicine. I'm sure it would fascinate him the niggers' endurance for pain. These niggers are tough, Dr. Schultz, no doubt about it. Hildi's got something like four lashes on her back. Lara Lee just get one, she'd lose her goddamn mind. -STEPHEN: Sure would. -Look at that, Doctor. It's like a painting. Look at that. Calvin! We are eating. Ain't no one want to look at her whipped-up back. Fine. Fine, fine, fine, fine. After dinner, then, Stephen. After dinner. During the brandies, gentlemen, hmm? Yeah. LARA: Cora, come get this girl. She a mess. Yes, ma'am. (gasps) Oh! Why are you all undone? I just got you done up. Come on in here! Baby, you on Stephen bad side, and you need to be on his blind side. You say you ain't know him. Huh? I said, you said you ain't know him. I don't. Yes, you do. Mr. Stephen, I don't. Why is you lying to me? Hmm? I ain't. Then why is you crying? You scaring me. Why is I'm scaring you? Because you scary. SCHULTZ: To speak German this afternoon with Hildi was positively soul-enriching. CANDIE: Doctor, that warms my heart to hear that. You stay right here. SCHULTZ: You indicated earlier you'd be willing to part with Hildi. Why, yes. Yes, sirree, Bob, I did. In that case, allow me to propose another proposition. I'm all ears. Hurry up, goddamn it! STEPHEN: Monsieur Candie... Stephen, you just interrupted Dr. Schultz here. STEPHEN: I'm sorry, Dr. Schultz. My ears ain't worth a damn these days. Excuse him. Monsieur Candie, could I get a word with you in the kitchen? You mean get up out of my chair? If'n you could manage it. Why? It's about dessert. What about dessert? I'd rather discuss that in private. (laughing): We're having white cake. What sort of melodrama could be brewing back there? You right, Monsieur Candie. You right. I'll handle it myself. Mm-hmm. (quietly): Meet me in the library. (out loud): I just can't understand why you won't come talk to these niggers. Shit get fucked-up around here, you blame me. Fine. Fine. Friend Stephen, I... I will be along momentarily. Yes, sir. Well... gentlemen, as you can see, talented as they are, no doubt, in the kitchen, from time to time, adult supervision is required. (laughter) If you'll excuse me a moment. You may clear the dinner service. CORA: You heard him. Go on! Get. What is the matter? Them motherfuckers ain't here to buy no Mandingos. They wants that girl. (chuckles) Stephen, what the hell are you talking about? Hmm? They playing your ass for a fool is what I'm talking about. They ain't here for no muscle-bound Jimmie. They here for that girl. W-What girl? What-- Hildi? Yeah, Hildi. Her and Django, them niggers know each other. H-He just bought Eskimo Joe. I... Did he give any money? No, not yet! But they... Then he ain't bought diddly. Not yet, nohow. But he's just about to buy who he come here to buy when I interrupted him. "Thank you, Stephen." You're welcome, Calvin. W-Where you getting all this? Why would they go through all that trouble for a nigger with a, with a chewed-up back, ain't worth $300? They doing it 'cause that nigger Django's in love with Hildi. She probably his wife. Now, why that German gives a fuck who that uppity son of a bitch is in love with, I'm sure I don't know. If she's who they want, why this whole snake oil pitch about Mandingos, then? You wouldn't pay no never mind to no $300. But that 12,000? That made you real friendly, now didn't it? Yes, it did. His wife, huh? If it had been a snake, it would've bit me. (chuckles) Those lying, goddamn time-wasting sons of bitches. Sons of bitches! LARA: ...out of New Orleans, so I have quite a bit of practice with theatre types. (chuckles) Oh, there you are. I was beginning to think that you and that old crow run off together. (laughter) That'd be a hell of a note, wouldn't it? Lara Lee, I was just looking out the big window. Billy Crash is out there dealing with some shady slaver trying to sell a passel of ponies. Would you be a dear, go out there and give them gals an eyeball? Mm? Of course, brother. Thank you, darling. (chuckles) (sighs): Yeah-yeah. Business never sleeps. Mm-hmm. Apropos, before your exit, we were discussing the possibility of my purchasing Broomhilda. Ah, yes. Yes, we were, Doctor. And we will again. In a moment. (chuckles): Who's your little friend? (clears throat) This is Ben. He's a old Joe that lived around here for a long time. And I do mean a long damn time. Old Ben here took care of my daddy and my daddy's daddy. Till he up and keeled over one day... ...Old Ben took care of me. Growing up the son of a, of a huge plantation owner in Mississippi puts a white man in contact with a whole lot of black faces. I spent my whole life here, right here in Candyland, surrounded by black faces. Now, seeing them every day, day in, day out, I... I only had one question... ...why don't they kill us? (laughs) Now, right out there on that porch, three times a week for 50 years, Old Ben here would shave my daddy with a straight razor. Now, if I was Old Ben, I would've cut my daddy's goddamn throat, and it wouldn't have taken me no 50 years to do it, neither. (chuckles) But he never did. Why not? You see, the science of phrenology is crucial to understanding the separation of our two species. In the skull of the African here, the area associated with submissiveness is larger than any human or any other subhuman species on planet Earth. If you examine... this piece of skull here... (skull crackling) ...you will notice three distinct dimples. Here, here and here. Now, if I was holding the skull of a, of a, of an Isaac Newton or-or Galileo, these three dimples would be found in the area of the skull most associated with creativity. But this is the skull of Old Ben. And in the skull of Old Ben, unburdened by genius, these three dimples exist in the area of the skull most associated with servility. Now, Bright Boy, I will admit you are pretty clever. But if I took this hammer here... ...and I bashed in your skull with it, you would have the same three dimples in the same place as Old Ben. Hey! Now lay your palms flat on that tabletop! If you lift those palms off that turtleshell tabletop, Mr. Pooch is gonna let loose with both barrels of that sawed-off! There have been a lot of lies said around this dinner table here tonight, but that you can believe! Mr. Moguy, would you be so kind as to collect the pistol hanging off these boys' hips here? Thank you ever so much. Doctor. Where were we? Jackass. Ah, yes. I do believe you were just getting ready to make me a proposition to buy Broomhilda. Am I right? Right. Bring out Hildi! Get over there yonder. (screams) Sit your ass in that goddamn chair! -Lay your hand flat on that tabletop. -Now shut your mouth! Dr. Schultz, in Greenville, you yourself said that for "The Right Nigger" you'd be willing to pay what some may consider is a ridiculous amount. To which me myself said, "What is your definition of ridiculous?" To which you said, "$12,000." -(screams) -Now, considering y'all have ridden a whole lot of miles, went through a whole lot of trouble, and done spread a whole lot of bull to purchase this lovely lady right here, it would appear that Broomhilda is, in fact, "The Right Nigger." And if y'all want to leave Candyland with Broomhilda, the price is $12,000. And I take it you prefer the "take it or leave it" style of negotiation? Yes, I do, Doctor. You see, under the laws of Chickasaw County, Broomhilda here is my property. And I can choose to do with my property whatever I so desire! And if y'all think my price for this nigger here is too steep... (grunts) ...what I'm gonna desire to do is... -(screaming) -...take this goddamn hammer here and beat her ass to death with it! Right in front of both y'all! Easy, big fella. Then we can examine the three dimples inside Broomhilda's skull! Now, what's it gonna be, Doc?! Huh?! What's it gonna be?! May I lift the hands off the tabletop in order to remove my billfold?! Yes, you may. (sobbing) That 12. Sold! (screams) To the man with the exceptional beard and his unexceptional nigger. Mr. Moguy. Yes, Calvin? Will you make these gentlemen a receipt for $12,000, please? $12,000. (smacks lips) It was a pleasure doing business with y'all. Now, gentlemen, if you care to join me in the parlour, we will be serving white cake. (harp playing Beethoven's 'Fur Elise') (music continues) (screaming) (screaming) (screaming) Well done, Calvin. (chuckles) Excuse me. Excuse me, ma'am. Could you please stop playing Beethoven? Take your hands off the harp! (music stops) STEPHEN: Doctor! Doctor, you can't go in there! Hey, uh, Stephen, Stephen. He ain't got no business going in there. Let it be. He's just a little upset, that's all. I'll handle this. White cake? I don't go in for sweets, thank you. Hmm. (Candie chuckles softly) You brooding about me getting the best of you, huh? Actually, I was thinking of that poor devil you fed to the dogs today, D'Artagnan. And I was wondering what Dumas would make of all this. Come again? Alexandre Dumas. He wrote The Three Musketeers. Yes, of course, Doctor. I figured you must be an admirer. You named your slave after his novel's lead character. Now, if Alexandre Dumas had been there today, I wonder what he would have made of it. You doubt he'd approve, huh? Yes. His approval would be a dubious proposition at best. Soft-hearted Frenchie. Alexandre Dumas is black. Are these Broomhilda's papers? Yes, they are. -May I? -Of course. Thank you. That is her-her bill of sale, her ownership history, and, of course, her-her freedom papers, Doctor. Would you have ink and pen for me? Right over there on that little table. Thank you. Thank you. Broomhilda Von Shaft... ...consider yourself a free woman. Mr. Candie... ...normally, I would say "auf Wiedersehen." But since what "auf Wiedersehen" actually means is "till I see you again," and since I never wish to see you again, to you, sir, I say, "good-bye." Let's go. Come on. One more moment, Doctor! What? It's a custom here in the South once a business deal is concluded that the two parties shake hands. (chuckles) It implies good faith. I'm not from the South. But you are... in my house, Doctor. So I'm afraid I must insist. Insist? On what? That I shake your hand? Oh, then I'm afraid I must insist in the opposite direction. You know what I think you are? What you think I am? No, I don't. I think you are a bad loser. And I think you're an abysmal winner. Nevertheless, here in Chickasaw County, a deal ain't done until the two parties have shook hands. Even after all that paper signing, don't mean shit you don't shake my hand. If I don't shake your hand, you're gonna throw away $12,000? I don't think so. Mr. Pooch? If she tries to leave here before this nigger-loving German shakes my hand, you cut her ass down. (gun cocks) You really want me to shake your hand? I insist. Well, if you insist. No! Calvin! Calvin! SCHULTZ: I'm sorry. I couldn't resist. (sobbing) -(cries out) -Nigger's gone crazy! Help! (screaming) He's killing everyone! (groaning) (screaming) -Holy... -Shit! -Son of a... -Bitch! (panting) (gunfire continues) Damn it! Fucking...! (shouting) (Moguy sobbing) Damn it, son of a bitch! What...?! What the...?! Fucking...! Goddamn it! What the fuck?! (screaming) You shot me! You stupid son of a bitch! Sorry, Jessie! Who the fuck gave a nigger a goddamn gun?! (sobbing) (screaming) (sobbing loudly) Aim low! Nigger! Gonna kill! Oh! God! Oh, my God! (screaming) Motherfucker! (bullet whistling) (2Pac's 'Untouchable') raps: # Am I wrong cause I wanna get it on till I die? # Am I wrong cause I wanna get it on till I die? # Get it on till I die, get it on till I die # Y'all, y'all remember me. # I like the way you die. (gun clicks empty) # Am I wrong cause I wanna get it on till I die? # Am I wrong cause I wanna get it on till I die? # Get it on till I die, get it on till I die. # Y'all, y'all remember me. # I like the way you die. # Only wish to breed. I explode into a million seeds. # Ya'll remember me; legendary, live eternally. # Bury me in pieces cause they fear reincarnation. # Niggers screaming peace cause they fear when my squad face 'em. # Take them to places, stake they face then erase 'em and brake 'em. # Murder motherfucker's at a rate and then quicken the pace. # Blast me but never ask me to live a lie. # Am I wrong cause I wanna get it on till I die? # Even if you blind you can still see my prophecy, # my destiny to overthrow those on top of me. # Expect me, nigger, like you expect Jesus to come back. # Expect me, nigger. I'm coming. # (ladders creak) Shit. (door creaks) STEPHEN: Hold your fire! Hold your fire! Stop shooting, goddamn it! Django! What?! (grunts) We got your woman! Billy Crash here got his pistol upside her head. You don't stop all that carrying on, he gonna blow her goddamn brains out. (gasping) And that ain't no threat, horse boy. That there is a promise. Or you can give up, throw your gun out, we won't kill Hildi. Horseshit! H-Honest Injun, Django. I swear 'fore God. You give up, ain't no harm gonna come to her. And I'm supposed to believe your black ass? Personally, I don't give a good goddamn what you believe or don't believe! I believe if you don't give up in the next ten seconds, we gonna blow this bitch's brains out! Believe that! (sniffles) You give me up. STEPHEN: Six! Just let me go. STEPHEN: Seven! -They got too much. -Django. -Eight! -I love you. Nine! DJANGO: Hold it! No. I give up. I can't hear you, nigger. I said, I give up! (western guitar music) # Freedom, freedom. # Freedom. (sobbing): No! No! # Freedom, oh, freedom. # Freedom. # Sometimes I feel # like a motherless child. # Sometimes I feel # like a motherless child. # Sometimes I feel # like a motherless child. # So far # away # from my home. # Dear Lord. # (rope creaking softly) (door opens) (footsteps approaching) Cock-a-doodle-do, nigger. So y'all bounty hunters, huh? (metal sizzling) I knew there was something fishy about y'all. We found your wanted posters and book of figures in your saddlebags. I got to say, I ain't never heard of no black bounty hunter before. Black boy paid to kill white men? How'd you like that line of work? Probably pretty good while it lasted, huh? (metal sizzling) (Django grunting) Time to say good night to them nuts, blackie. On three. One. (screams) I got you. Two. (screams) Calm down. Now here it comes. (screams) STEPHEN: Captain? Miss Lara want to see you. Something to do with the Old Man's funeral. Oh, and she changed her mind 'bout snipping Django. She gonna give him to the LeQuint Dickey people. (panting) Well, she didn't waste a minute telling me. How disappointing. (metal sizzles) (laughs) You leaving. This here what you take with you. Your black ass been all them motherfuckers at The Big House could talk about for the last few hours. Seem like white folk ain't never had a bright idea in they life was coming up with all kinds of ways to kill your ass. Now, mind you, most of them ideas had to do with fucking with your fun parts. Now, that may seem like a good idea, but truth is... when you snip a nigger's nuts, most of them bleed out in, oh, about, mm, seven minutes. Most of 'em. (chuckles) Eh, more than most. Then I says, (chuckles): "Shitfire, the niggers we sell to LeQuint Dickey got it worse than that." And they still saying, "Let's whip him to death." Or "Throw him to the Mandingos." "Feed him to Stonesipher's dogs." (chuckles): And I said, "What's so special about that? "We do that shit all the time. "Hell's bells, the niggers we sell to LeQuint Dickey got it worse than that." Lo and behold, out of nowhere, Miss Lara come up with the bright idea of giving your ass to the LeQuint Dickey Mining Company. And as a slave of the LeQuint Dickey Mining Company, henceforth, till the day you die, all day, every day, you will be swinging a sledgehammer, turning big rocks into little rocks. Now, when you get there, they gonna take away your name, give you a number and a sledgehammer, and say, "Get to work!" One word of sass, they cuts out your tongue. And they good at it, too. You won't bleed out. Oh, they does that real good. They gonna work you. All day, every day, till your back give out. Then they're gonna hit you in the head with a hammer, throw your ass down the nigger hole. And that will be the story of you, Django. (Johnny Cash's 'Aint No Grave') # There ain't no grave # that can hold my body down. # There ain't no grave # that can hold my body down. # MAN (Australian accent): And what's the golden rule, Frankie, eh? You don't root Abbos. Hey, white boy. I said, hey, white boy. (Australian accent): Shut up, black. You ain't got nothing to say I want to hear. How'd you like to make $11,000? Do what now? I said, how'd you like to make $11,000? 11,500, actually. The fuck are you talking about? Back there at that plantation, Candyland, there was an $11,500 fortune, just sitting there. And y'all rode right past it. You be damned, blackie, we're not bandits. I ain't saying that. Nice thing about this fortune is it ain't illegal. You can't steal it. You got to earn it, white boy. You got something to say, mate, you say it. The $11,500 fortune waiting for you back at Candyland is in the form of a "wanted dead or alive" bounty on Smitty Bacall and the Bacall Gang. Who the fuck is Smitty Bacall? Smitty Bacall is the leader of this murderous gang of stagecoach robbers, the Bacall Gang. There's a $7,000 "wanted dead or alive bounty" on him, $1,500 for each of his three accomplices: Dandy Michaels, Gerald Nash and Crazy Craig Koons. Now, all four of them gentlemen, they back there at Candyland laughing their ass off. You know why? 'Cause they just got away with murder. But it ain't got to be that way. You and your mates, y'all can ride back there and y'all can go get that money. What'd these jokers do again? These sons of bitches, they-they killed innocent people. Stagecoach robbery. Innocent white people. I got the handbill right here in my pocket, if you let me get it. Hmm, get it out. "Wanted dead or alive, "Smitty Bacall and the Smitty Bacall Gang... -But you're a slave. -"for murder... DJANGO: I ain't no goddamn slave. -...and stagecoach robbery." -Do I sound like a fuckin' slave? -$7,000 for Smitty Bacall. -Hm? -That's a shitload. I'm a bounty hunter. Yesterday, as a free man, I rode into Candyland on a horse with my German white partner, Dr. King Schultz. We tracked the Bacall Gang all the way from Texas to Chickasaw County. We finally found they ass laying low in Candyland. We went in there to get 'em, things went sour, my partner got killed, Calvin Candie got shot, then everybody there decided to blame me, so here I am. But y'all know I ain't on that manifest. And all y'all know I ain't supposed to be on this trip. But them four men are still back there, they're still wanted, and that $11,500 is up for grabs, and the last thing they'd expect is y'all riding back in there and getting it. Well, what's the deal? You tell us who they are, and we... -turn you loose? -Oh, no, no, no. I ain't gonna tell you who they are. But you give me a pistol, one of them horses and $500 of that $11,500, and I'll point 'em out to you. ROY (voice-over): This is a real handbill. Now, just 'cause it's a real handbill doesn't mean that other bunch of malarkey is. Now, why would a slave have a "wanted dead or alive" handbill in his pocket? (doors squeak) Did that black ride into Candyland yesterday? All right... I'm gonna ask you again. (cocks hammer) I want you to remember, I don't like liars. Is he a Candyland slave, or did he ride in with a white man on a horse yesterday? Yeah. They walked us from the Greenville auction, and he rode in on a horse with a white man. Now, this white man... was the black his slave? He weren't no slave. You-you fuckin' sure about that? Damn sure. Uh-huh. What happened over in Candyland? Bunch of shootin'. Massa got shot. -Who shot him? -The German. Why'd he do that? Nigger and the German was acting like they were slavers, but they wasn't. ROY: Well, what were they? Bounty hunters. Fuck me, Roy. I mean, this-this could be big, mate. Well, smoke... you got a deal. I got one more condition. What's that? When we get there, when time come... -you let me help you kill 'em. -FLOYD: Hey! (laughing): You're a funny bugger! Cut him loose. Yeah, yeah. You got yourself a deal, blackie. (Australian accent): You got yourself a deal, mate. Hey! (laughing) Hey, you're all right for a black fella. Oh, yeah. (chuckles) (Floyd laughing) (Floyd grunting softly) FLOYD: There we go. -There you go, mate. -Yeah. ROY: We're even gonna give you that packhorse over there. -What them saddlebags got in 'em? -FLOYD: Dynamite. No, no, I ain't ridin' no horse with no goddamn dynamite on its back. I can understand that. Frankie, why don't you take them sticks off that horse and stick 'em in the nigger cage. A little dynamite for you black fellas to play with! (laughing) ROY: Now, Floyd, you got that rifle up on the wagon, don't you? -Yeah, right. -Why don't you give him your gun and gun belt? Oh, righto. Now, don't drop the fuckin' thing, all right? I've just had the sights fixed, and they're perfect. That's good to know. (explosion) (gasping) (neighing) (whooshing, crackling) (John Legend's 'Who Did That To You') # Now, I'm not afraid to do the Lord's work. # They said vengeance is his, but I'm 'a do it first. # I'm gonna hand over my business in the name of the law. # Now, if he made you cry, oh I gotta know. # If he's not ready to die, he best prepare for it. # My justice is mine. I'll tell you who you can call. # You can call... # You better call the police, # call the coroner. # Call up your priest, # have him warn ya. # Won't be no peace # when I find that fool. # Put him back below. Throw me up that dynamite. # Now, I don't take pleasure in a man's pain, # but my wrath will come down like the cold rain. # And there won't be no shelter, no place you can go. # It's time to put your hands up. # Time for surrender. # I'm a vigilante, # my love's defender. # You're a wanted man, # and everybody knows. # You better call the police, # call the coroner. # Call up your priest, # have him warn ya. # Won't be no peace` # (music stops abruptly) (birds chirping) (Brother Dege's 'Too Old to Die Young') # Round and round. Round we go. # Where it stops? Nobody knows it. (dogs barking) James! -Yeah? -Get out there and see what's bothering them goddamn dogs! DJANGO: D'Artagnan, motherfuckers! (grunting, yelling) # You got your reasons, # and I got my wants. # Still got that feeling, but I'm too old to die young now. # Too old to die young now. # Above or below the ground. # Just too old to die young now. # Still the good Lord might let me down. (horse neighs) (horse whinnies) (horse whinnies) (classic western tune) Auf Wiedersehen. (western tune continues) (hoofbeats approaching) (western tune continues) (gasps) (trembling inhale) DJANGO: It's me, baby. (gasping breath) (panting, laughing) (tune continues) (music ends) (spurs jangling, animals chattering) STEPHEN: # In the sweet # By and by # We will meet # On that beautiful shore # Mm, mm, mm # By and by # By and by, by and by # We will meet, we will meet - # By and by... # -Cora, would you prepare us some coffee? Sheba, you help her. CORA: Come on. STEPHEN: # In the sweet # By and by # Oh... DJANGO: Y'all gonna be together with Calvin in the by and by... ...just a bit sooner than y'all was expectin'. (grunting, screaming) (yelling in pain) -Billy Crash. -(groaning) -Now, where were we? -(yelling) Oh. That's right. Last time I seen you, you had your hands on my... -(yelling) -(screaming) (screaming hysterically) (continues screaming) D-jango! You black son of a bitch! The "D" is silent, hillbilly. (gasps): Oh, no! (gasping breaths) Now... all you black folks, I suggest you get away from all these white folks. Not you, Stephen. You're right where you belong. Uh, Cora, before you go... would you tell Miss Lara good-bye? D-Do what, now? I said, tell Miss Lara good-bye. Bye, Miss Lara. (body thuds) Y'all two run along, now. (both gasp) (crying quietly) -(door closes) -(insects chattering, chirping) (panting) Stephen... how you like my... new duds? You know, before now I didn't know that burgundy was my colour. I count six shots, nigger. I count two guns, nigger. You said in 76 years on this plantation you seen all manner of shit done to niggers. But I notice... you didn't mention kneecappin'. Oh, God! Motherfucker! -Damn it! -76 years, Stephen. How many niggers you think you see come and go, huh? -7,000? 8,000? -(sobbing) -9,000? 9,999? -(gasping, sobbing) Every single word that came out of Calvin Candie's mouth was nothin' but horseshit. But he was right about one thing-- I am that one nigger in 10,000. (screams) (loud sobbing): Oh, you son of a bitch! Aah! You motherfucker! Oh, sweet Jesus, let me kill this nigger! (sobbing): You ain't gonna get away with this, Django! They gonna catch your black ass! You're gonna be on the wanted posters now, nigger. The bounty hunters gonna be looking for you. You can run, nigger, but they gonna find your ass! And when they do, oh-ho-ho, Lord, what they gonna do to your ass. They ain't gonna just kill you, nigger! You done fucked up! This Candyland, nigger! You can't destroy Candyland! We been here! There always gonna be a Candyland! (laughs) (whistling western tune) Can't no nigger gunfighter kill all the white folks in the world! STEPHEN (in distance): They gonna find your black ass! (Stephen laughing loudly) Django...! You uppity son of a... (booming explosion) (horse whinnies) (burning object whizzes by) # He's the guy who's the talk of the town, # with a restless gun. # You won't bother to fool him around. # Keeps the varmints on the run, boy. # Keeps the varmints on the run. # You may think he's a sleepy, tired guy. (explosion) # Always takes his time... Hey, Little Trouble Maker. Hey, Big Trouble Maker. # You'll be changing your mind when you see him use a gun, boy. # When you see him use a gun. # He's the talk of the West. (Broomhilda laughs) # Always cool, he's the best. # He keeps alive with his Colt 45. SCHULTZ: You know what they are going to call you? "The fastest gun in the South." # You won't bother to fool him around # When you see him use a gun, boy. (flames roaring, crackling) Let's get out of here. # When you see him use a gun. # He's the top of the West. # Always cool, he's the best. # He alive with his Colt 45. # Who's the guy who's riding to town # in the prairie sun? # You won't bother to fool him around # When you've seen him use a gun, boy. # When you've seen him use his gun. # (RZA's 'Ode to Django') raps: # In the eyes of the sparrow # Every father would love to overthrow a tyrant. # It's a simple science; Jack overthrows the giant. # Neither snow, rain, mountain or ice can block my path of vengeance. # There's no repenting; I'm giving you the death sentence. # Blood stains on the cotton field, in the cotton mill. # Cold steel heat your body up; may you rot in hell. # 36 lashes, on my back, left gashes. # For every crack of the whip, I felt mental flashes. # Interrupt my baby making, have my ladies taken # to a place far up north and more forsaken. # Lord, help this fool he's a dead man. # Bout to put another hole in his Klan headband # The good Dr. Schultz check the dental records. # The slug'll make his whole mug disconnected. # I learnt to shoot the dead man with a tango. "Yeah, his name is Django." "I love you, Django" "Django, I think you should make a last request". "I love you, Django." "Start praying, if you like. I don't mind." "It's a smart thing to do when you know that death is coming for ya." "I love you, Django." "We'll have to leave you to the vultures." "When life has little value, prepare for death." "Oh, it's terrible. He enjoys killing." www.able.co.nz Captions were made possible with funding from NZ On Air. Able 2015 (music fading out) Who was that nigger?