An
apt opening act for the 2017 Montreal
International Jazz Festival,
Django is as much a biopic of guitar legend Django
Reinhardt (Reda Kateb) as it is about music in times of
conflict. The plot can be summed in the dichotomy of the
persecuted gypsies playing music for their Nazi oppressors
and surviving thanks to their talent. This reality leads
Django (1910-53) to try to escape to Switzerland aided by
a duplicitous former lover (Cécile De France), while relying
on his talent to safeguard his family and his fellow gypsies,
or, in the words of 
his
wife (Bea Palya), “make crowds dance and enchant snakes.”
And the snakes dance to the tune of swing, blues and jazz.
Indeed, music plays a large part of the film, from the opening
scenes of persecution to the closing memorial, it weaves
through Django’s and the audience’s worlds, borrowing from
the musician’s power to at times speak for him, illuminate
the scene, or simply induce clapping.
Django’s technique is so brilliant that the movie barely
mentions the fact that at the age of 18, after suffering
extensive first and second degree burns over his body and
left hand, the doctors not only wanted to amputate one of
his legs, but his fourth and fifth string plucking fingers
were paralyzed. Django rejected the surgery, left the hospital
shortly thereafter, and was able to walk with the aid of
a cane after a year. Although the doctors were convinced
he would never play guitar again, through sheer will and
talent, he learned to play with his thumb and two fingers
– and the rest is history.
But the film, thanks to its up-close cinematography, is
also an effective portrayal of the artist and the gypsy
community. The camera purposely closes in on its subject,
marking in a series of vivid portraits Django’s change in
attitude from a care-free self-centred spirit to a concerned
member of the Roma community, and an aid to the Resistance,
while never loosing his sense of humour. To better render
the stages of Django’s journey and the many confrontational
scenes, eye level shots are preferred over the more conventional
aerial perspective, while the highs and lows of the artist’s
life are effectively evoked through creative lighting. The
atmospheric shots of the different cities and locales (from
gypsy camps to concert halls) breathe life to a period that
does not seem so distant in today’s world of rising xenophobia
and ethnic violence.
Director Etienne Comar is no newcomer to ethnic conflict,
having co-written with Xavier Beauvois the tale of two religions
in Of Gods and Men (2010), winner of the Grand
Prix at Cannes. For the occasion of his directorial debut,
Django, the very first biopic of the legendary
guitarist, was chosen to open the 67th Berlin International
Film Festival.
The film and its spot-on script effectively and seamlessly
blend fact with fiction, altering the outcomes of his (second)
escape attempt, mixing the concert at Amphion-les-Bains
with the French Resistance, or completely creating new characters,
as in the case of his fictional lover, Louise de Klerk.
Nevertheless, Comar’s film joins the ranks of World War
II films like La Vita è Bella (1997, Benigni) and
Train of Life (1988, Mihaileanu), while touching
on the lesser known facts of the Roma genocide where it
is estimated that a half a million gypsies were slaughtered
by the Nazis. But in contrast to these films, or even The
Pianist (Polanski, 2002), Django is not just
a story about survival but about the artist’s power and
responsibility. The film reminds us of what stands behind
music and what it can endure.
