All language subtitles for Django.Unchained.2012.1080p-720p.BluRay.x264.YIFY.Eng

Whoa.

Whoa.

Who's that stumblin'
around in the dark?

State your business
or prepare to get winged!

Calm yourselves, gentlemen.

I mean you no harm.

I'm simply a fellow weary traveler.
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.

- What kinda 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.
- Oh, 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?

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 Lil 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?
- Hey.

- Stop talkin' to him like that.
- Like What?

Like that.

My good man,
I'm simply trying to ascertain...

Speak English, goddamn it.

Everybody calm down.

I'm simply a customer
trying to conduct a transaction.

I don't care. No sale.
Now, off with ya.

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?

Last chance, fancy pants.

Oh, very well.

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, if you could keep your
caterwauling down to a minimum,

I'd like to finish my line
of inquiry with young Django.

- God-fuckin'-damn it!
- As I was saying...

if you were to see the Brittle
Brothers again, you could recognize 'em?

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.

Goddamn it! Oh!

One hundred... ten... 20...

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.

I thought not.

No worries. I come prepared.

Thank you.

This will serve nicely
as a bill of sale.

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.

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.

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.

Now wait a minute, fellas.
Let's talk about this!

You gotta be reasonable
in a situation like this!

I'm not a bad guy.
I'm just doin' my job!

Blueberry, didn't I
give you my last apple?

Take me to the doc in El Paso,

I'll get you your freedom.

No. No, please...

All right, now.

I'd like you to
take two of these tonight...

and then in the morning...

That's a nigger on a horse.

What's everybody staring at?

They ain't never seen
no nigger on a horse before.

Whoa.

Good morning, innkeeper!

Two beers for two weary travelers.

It's still a bit early.

We won't be open for another hour.

By then, we'll be servin' breakfast.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa... what
the hell you think you're doing, boy?

Get that nigger outta here!

- Help! Help!
- Innkeeper!

Remember, get the sheriff,
not the marshal.

Sheriff! Help!

Alas.

Now we must act as our own bartender.

Sit down, my boy.

What kind of dentist are you?

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.

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?

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 endeavor,

I'm at a slight disadvantage insofar
as I don't know what they look like.

But you do. Don't ya?

I know what they look like all right.

Good. So here's my agreement.

- You travel with me until we find them.
- Where we goin'?

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 'em.

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.

OK, boys. Fun's over. Come on out.

All right, folks, calm down.

Go about your business.

These jokers will be gone soon.

Now, why y'all wanna 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?

What'd you just do to our sheriff?

Now you can get the marshal.

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
outta the goddamn street.

You in the saloon!

We got a hundred rifles aimed
at every way out of that buildin'.

You got one chance
to get out of this alive.

You and your nigger come out right now
with your hands over your head,

and I mean right now.

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.

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.

I'll be damned.

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?

Oh, me and my wife do.

Old Man Carrucan didn't.
That's why we, uh... we run off.

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.

And I want you to take 'em to
the Greenville auction and sell 'em.

Both of 'em.

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?
- Broom-hilda.

- Broomhilda?
- Hm-mm.

- 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?
- Hm-mm.

When she was little, her mistress
taught her so she'd have somebody

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.

When we gain access to these
plantations, we'll be putting on an act.

You'll be playing a character.

Hm?

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?
- Hm-mm.

And now, Django, you may choose
your character's costume.

Youse gonna let me
pick out my own clothes?

But of course.

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.

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 nothin'?

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.

Well, come on inside and get
yourself somethin' cool to drink.

Hm-mm.

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, Betina.

- Yessir, 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.
He... 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?

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.

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 wanna dress like that?

- Betina, I need to ask you somethin'.
- What you want?

I'm lookin' for three white men.
Three brothers. Overseers.

Their name is Brittle. You know 'em?

- Brittle?
- Yes, Brittle.

John Brittle, Ellis Brittle,
Roger Brittle, sometime called Lil Raj.

I don't know them.

They could be usin' a different name.

They woulda 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 'em out to me?

Well, one's over in that field.

Old Man Carrucan ain't
gonna appreciate this, now.

She work in the house, John.

You could mess her skin up,
and you gonna mess her up

and she ain't gonna be worth...
she ain't gonna be worth a damn thing.

Now, your Bible say...

Look, I told you
that I was one that made her do it.

You ready?

She didn't wanna run off with me. If
anybody should be gettin' 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.

You know Massa Carrucan
ain't gonna appreciate this.

She's a... she's a house slave.

She a house slave, she can't be...

On my knees. I'm asking you this,
please. Ain't this what you want?

I'm keeping it funny for you.
Now, John, please.

L's on my knees, John.

I like the way you beg, boy.

Is that who you was lookin' for?

Yep.

Where the other two at?

They by the stable,
punishin' Little Jody for breakin' eggs.

They whippin' Little Jody?

Point me in that direction.

You go to that tree
and keep goin' 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.

"And the Lord said,
'The fear of ye..."

"...and the dread of ye

shall be on every beast
of the earth."'

Come here now, woman!

You'd better give me that arm!

OK, she's ready!

And after this, we'll see
if you break eggs again.

John Brittle!

You remember me?

I like the way you die, boy.

Goddamn son of a bitch!

Keep it funny!

Y'all wanna see somethin'?

No!

Who were they?

That's Big John,
and that's Lil Raj.

Where's Ellis?

He's the one hightailin' 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.

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 goin' 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 'em 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 outta here.

Yeah, that's them sons-a-bitches.

Come on, men!

- We're coming for you, nigger!
- Hee-haw!

Now, unless they start shootin' first,
nobody shoot 'em.

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 fuckin' shit
outta this thing.

We ready or what?

Aw, hold on,
I'm fuckin' with my eyeholes.

Oh... Oh, shit.

I just made it worse.

Who made this goddamn shit?

- Willard's wife.
- Well, make your own goddamn masks!

Look, nobody's sayin'
they don't appreciate what Jenny did.

Well, if all I had to do
was cut a hole in a bag,

I coulda 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 ridin', the bag's
movin' all over, and I'm ridin' blind.

- Shit.
- Yeah.

I just made mine worse.

Oh, God.

Anybody bring any extra bags?

No, nobody brought an extra bag!

I'm just askin'.

Do we have to wear 'em when we ride?

Oh, well, shitfire!

If you don't wear 'em as you ride up,
that just defeats the purpose!

Well, I can't see
in this fuckin' thing!

I can't breathe in this fuckin' thing
and I can't ride in this fuckin' thing!

Well, fuck all y'all! I'm goin' home!

Now, I watched my wife work all day
gettin' 30 bags together

for you ungrateful sons-a-bitches,

and all I can hear is
criticize, criticize, criticize!

From now on, don't ask me
or mine for nothin'!

Now, look, let's not forget
why we're here.

We got a killer nigger
over that hill there!

And we gotta make a lesson out of him.

OK, I'm confused.
Are the bags on or off?

I think we all think
the bag was a nice idea.

Yeah.

But, not pointin' any fingers,
they coulda 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 a lot.
- You get my vote, Robert.

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 fuckin' horse see! That's a raid!

Sons of bitches!

I can't see shit!

There he is! Get that nigger
out from under that wagon!

And get that nigger-lover
outta the wagon!

That nigger ain't down here,
Big Daddy!

- What?
- They tricked us!

Well, where are they?

Auf Wiedersehen.

Oh!

Bull's-eye.

Look at 'em run.

Yeah, cowards tend to do that.

Goddamn it!

Goddamn it!

Would you care to?

Can't see shit outta this!

- He's getting away.
- I got him.

Big Daddy's getting away.

I got him.

Got him.

The kid's a natural.

How you know Broomhilda's
first masters was German?

Broomhilda is 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.

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 Siegfried.

Does Siegfried 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 killin' Big John and Lil 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
Siegfried, that's kind of a big deal.

As a German, I'm obliged
to help you on your quest

to rescue your beloved Broomhilda.

You got her.

Ooh. What happened to Mr. "I Wanna
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.

"Wanted. Dead or alive.

Smitty Bacall and the
Smitty Bacall

- Gang.
- "Gang."

"For murder and stagecoach...

robbery.

- Seven-zero-zero-zero..
- Seven thousand.

Thousand.

"$7,000 for Smitty Bacall.

$1,500 for each of his...

.“gang“P

- 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.

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.

That's accurate.

Doctor, Django, how the hell are ya?

Who the hell-a 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 'em 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.

Move along!

Move it, boy!

Keep movin'.

Get on up on that auction block.

Don't let that mud slow you down.
Keep going.

Keep goin'!

"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 repellant gentleman

who owns her. 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.

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 stealin' 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.

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?

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.

They call that "One-Eyed Charley."

Bonjour.

We're here to see Mr. Calvin Candie.

Entraz.

- Thank you.
- Hm-mm.

You want me to play a black slaver?

Ain't nothin' lower than a black slaver.

A black slaver is lower
than the head house nigger...

and, buddy,
that's pretty fuckin' low.

Then play him that way.

Give me your black slaver.

♪ Along came the 219
Toot! Toot! Peanut butter!

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 Charley
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 wanna follow me?

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.

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.

Get back on top, now!
Turn around!

There you go.

There you go.

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 goin' on
that's a good bit of fun.

Won't you accompany me to the bar?

You don't wear a hat in the house,
white man. Even I know that.

- Dr. Schultz.
- What a rare pleasure.

Keep fighting, niggers.

- And I might add, an honor.
- Honor to meet you.

Please have a seat,
the pleasure's all mine.

Get free man Django here
whatever he wants.

And I'll have sweet tea and bourbon.

Use your weight, boy,
use your weight! There you go.

He's much bigger and stronger!

Come on, now!

He's not doing what I told him,
for God's sakes.

Come on, now, boy!
It's a fight to the death!

You either hit him or are you ain't?

Big Fred, come on!

Turn him around! Now...

Use your strength, boy!
Come on, now! Use your strength!

There you go!

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!
- Do what I told ya!

Blind him black, boy!
Blind him black!

Oh, no, Luigi.

Whoo! Whoo-hoo-hoo!

Oh...

Finish him.

Go on, boy, finish him!

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.

Tequila.

What's your name?

Django.

Can you spell it?

D-J-A-N-G-O.

The D is silent.

I know.

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?

Yessir, Monsieur Candie.

Before you go,
Roscoe, get Fred here a tall beer.

You enjoy that, boy.
You've earned it.

Yessir.

- What's your name, boy?
- His name is Django Freeman.

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 nothin' nobody
is sellin' is worth buyin'.

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.

Monsieur Candie...

I'd appreciate if you could
direct your line of inquiry toward me.

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... I am a seasoned slaver.

You are, well, you are a neophyte.

I'm simply tryin' to ascertain if this
cowboy here is takin' 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 talkin' business yet.

We were discussin' 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 eyeballin',
you the billfold? Is that it?

Well, you don't make it sound
too flattering, but more or less, yeah.

Hm.

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 nothin' more to talk about.

You see, you wanna buy
a beat-ass nigger from me,

those are the beat-ass niggers
I wanna sell so...

He don't wanna buy the niggers
you wanna sell.

He wants the nigger
you don't wanna sell.

Well, I don't sell the niggers
I don't wanna 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...

who knows what could happen?

And what do you consider ridiculous?

For a truly talented specimen,
the right nigger?

How much would you say, Django?

Twelve thousand dollars.

Well, gentlemen, you had my curiosity,

but now you have my attention.

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.

Oh, thank you very much.

You can tie your horse up back there.

Django.

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.
- Thank you.

Quite an honor.

- The honor is all ours.
- Thank you.

But I do believe that,
given time,

exceptional niggers
like Bright Boy here...

become if not frequent...

more frequent.

Bright Boy,
you are that one in 10,000.

The name of the game is keep up,
not catch up, nigger.

Whoa!

- Touch your guns, you die.
- Everybody, calm down!

Now I saw the whole thing.
No harm done.

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.

- Yessir, 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 wanna hold my hand?

Willie, take us home.

Start moving!

Head 'em out!

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?

Indeed.

May we stop for a moment
so I may put a word in my man's ear?

You know, 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 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 that
this is my world...

and in my world you gotta get dirty.

So that's what I'm doing.
I'm gettin' dirty.

Well, you're paraphrasing a tad, but...

that was the general gist.

See you at Candyland.

All right, niggers, back at it.

That means you too, Moonlight.

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 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!
- Quiet down, Marsha!

Marsha, hush up! Marsha!

Hush up! Hey!

Get these goddamn dogs
away from this nigger!

Come on now, boy...
get on out that tree.

Yessir.

How long was he loose?

A night. Day.

Half the other night.

How far he get off the property?

'Bout 20 miles off the prop.

Pretty far considering
that limp he got.

Hm.

Mr. Moguy, who was D'Artagnan
supposed to fight on Friday?

One-a this new lot.

Well, way he looks now, a blind Indian
wouldn't bet a bead on him.

Please, Monsieur
Candie, I ain't got it in me no more.

- Now, now, now, now, now.
- I can't...

Now, no beggin'.

No playin' on my soft heart.

- You in trouble now, son.
- Yessir.

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.

You got to understand
that I'm runnin' a business here.

- You fought three fights.
- But I won every one.

Yes, you did. Yes, you did.

But that last one, you muddled the line
between winnin' and losin'.

Yessir.

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?

Huh?

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
toyin' with him is all.

Matter of fact, so am I.

But we ain't payin' 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.

For that matter...

nor have I.

Now...

seein' as you won't pay a penny
for this pickaninny here...

you won't mind me handlin'
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! Marsha, hey, get him!

Get 'im, get 'im!

- Yeah!
- Whoo!

Whoo-ee!

Your boss looks a little
green around the gills

for a blood sport like nigger fighting.

Nah, he just ain't used to seein'
a man ripped apart by dogs is all.

Hm.

You are used to it?

I'm just a little more
used to Americans than he is.

- Hm.
- 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.

Line 'em up to the left here now, boy.

Stand up straight, now!

Get up there.

Get up there, boy. Come on.

Give me a line! Give me a line!

Get in line there! Straighten up!

Hello! Stephen, my boy!

Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Hello, my ass.

Who this nigger up on that nag?

Stephen, you have nails for breakfast?
What's-a matter? Why you so ornery?

- You miss me, huh?
- Oh, yessir.

I miss you like a hog miss slop!

Like a baby miss mammy's titty.

I miss you like I misses
a rock in my shoe.

Who this nigger on that nag?

Hey, Snowball?

Wanna know my name or
the name of my horse, you ask me.

Just who the hell you callin'
"Snowball," horse boy?

I'll snatch your
black ass off that nag there

- and in the mud so fast...
- Whoa, whoa, whoa!

- ...make your head spin.
- Stephen, Stephen, Stephen.

Let's keep it funny.
Django here's a free man.

- 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 oughta hate each other.

Calvin, just who the hell is this nigger
you feels the need to entertain?

Django and his friend in gray here,
Dr. Schultz, are customers.

And they are our guests, Stephen.

And you, you old decrepit bastard,
oughta show them every hospitality.

- You understand that?
- Yessir. 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?

Yessir. I understand.

Well, good.
They're spendin' the night.

Go up in the guest bedrooms
and 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?

Oh, no.
I ain't got no problem with it,

if you ain't got no problem
with burnin' the bed, the sheets,

the pillowcases, everything else when
this black-ass motherfucker's gone!

That is my problem!
They are mine to burn!

Now your problem right now
is makin' a good impression!

And I want you to start solvin'
that problem right now

and get them goddamn rooms ready!

Yessir, Monsieur Candie.

Go on, now.

Can't believe you brought
a nigger to stay in The Big House.

Your daddy rollin' over
in his goddamned grave.

Man, the lip on him. Whoo!
He's gettin' worse and worse.

Now...

Where is my beautiful sister?!

There she is!
Whoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!

Dr. Schultz, this attractive
Southern belle is my widowed sister.

Darlin', you are a tonic for tired eyes.

May I present to you
Lara Lee Candie-Fitzwilly.

Chester, Rodney, Chicken Charly.
Y'all get your ass over by that pen.

- Come on, Charly. Come on, now!
- Let's go.

You know where it is.

Like you on a rope!

Niggers don't walk around here,
niggers run!

- Monsieur Candie?
- Hm?

Yeah. About that matter about the
nigger girl you were talking about?

Nigger gal?

Yeah, I believe you mentioned
she spoke German.

Ah, yes! Hildi, what about her?

Do you think before the demonstration,
you could send her around to my room?

You little dickens, you.
I don't see why not.

Stephen, when you get through showin'
them to their rooms, go fetch Hildi,

get her cleaned up
and smellin' real nice,

and sent over to
Dr. Schultz's room here.

Actually, Monsieur Candie, sir,

there's-a somethin'
I ain't told you 'bout yet.

- What?
- Uh, Hildi in the Hot Box.

What's she doin' there?

What you think she
doin' there in the Hot Box?

She bein' punished.

- What she do?
- She run off again.

Jesus Christ, Stephen, how many people
ran away while I was gone?

- Two.
- When did she go?

Last night.
They brung her back this morning.

How bad did Stonesipher's dogs
tear her up?

Lucky for her,
they was out chasin' D'Artagnan's ass.

Bill and Cody went lookin' for her,
found her, brung her back.

Now, she a little beat-up.
But she done that to her own damn self

runnin' through them
damn bushes and shit.

How long she been in the box?

How long you think
she been in there? All damn day.

And the little bitch
got ten more days to 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 havin'
a nigger that speaks German

if you can't wheel 'em out
when you have a German guest?

Now, I realize it is inconvenient,
but still, you take her ass out.

Yessir.

Lara Lee!
Will you and Cora be responsible

for gettin' Hildi cleaned up
and presentable for Dr. Schultz here.

Of course, darlin'.

Now, gentlemen, I do apologize, but I am
weary from our travels beyond words.

It is time for me to rest my tired eyes.

Y'all done heard the man!
Get her ass up outta there!

Cora! Come here!

Get over there and get her cleaned up,
bring her back over here to Dr...

- What he say your name is? Shoots?
- Schultz.

Schultz. Get her back over here.
Hurry up, girl.

Yessir.

Come on, girl. Stand up.

Is you comin' with me or is you gonna
sleep in that little box over yonder?

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 ya know.

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.

Ha!

Astonishing.

- And I shall bring you...
- Much obliged.

Ja.

Don't be afraid.

Hm. Pardon.

Danke.

Hey, Little Trouble Maker.

You silver-tongued devil, you.

- Hurry up, girl.
- These ready, Miss Cora.

No, no, no, they drinkin' tonight.

Go downstairs, get the big jug with the
red stuff Monsieur Candie like, hear?

- Get your big pretty ass out the way.
- You know you like it.

That's 'cause
you knows what I like.

Ooh!
Come on with these biscuits, girl.

Look, Monsieur Candie, they were
all fine specimens, no doubt about it.

But the best three by far were Samson...

- What's that other one's name?
- Goldie.

Goldie. And Eskimo Joe.

By the way, why is he called Eskimo Joe?

You never know how
these nigger nicknames get started.

His name was Joe, maybe one day
he said he was cold. Who knows?

Well, regardless, Samson's your best.
We all know that.

You will never sell him,
and I can see why. He's a champion.

Hm-hm.
All three are champions.

Samson's the champion.

Them other two pretty good.

Calvin, now what's
this nigger you let...

It's all right.

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?

Hence, I have big ideas
when it comes to presentation.

Hm.

I need something more
than just a big nigger.

Yeah, he needs to have panache.

- Need to have what? What?
- Panache. Uh...

- A sense of Showmanship.
- Showmanship, yes.

I want to be able to bill him
as The Black Hercules.

The Black Hercules,
isn't that clever?

More like Nigger-les.

"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.
- Hm-mm.

And that is a nigger
that can win fights.

Hm-mm.

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.

In other words, first thing is first.

First thing's first.

Ooh! I see you two gettin' on.

Famously.

Oh, Monsieur Candie,
you can't imagine what it's like

not to hear your
native tongue in four years.

Well, hell,
I can't imagine two weeks in Boston.

Two weeks in Boston!

Monsieur Candie, you a mess!

Two weeks in Boston!

I can't express the joy I felt
conversing in my mother tongue.

And Hildi is a charming
conversation companion.

Well, be careful now,
Dr. Schultz.

You might-a caught yourself

- a little dose of nigger love.
- Hm!

Nigger love's
a powerful emotion, boy.

- Hm!
- It's like a pool of black tar.

Once it catches your ass, you're caught.

Yessir, you stuck.

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.

Well, naturally.

It is the soaring eagle
that attracts her attention,

not the plucked chicken.

Dr. Schultz, don't be
so down on yourself.

You are quite the dapper
European gentleman.

You got to clean these dishes,

you got to put your elbow
in these dishes, you hear me?

You know that nigger, don't you?

- Who?
- "Who?"

Don't "who" me, bitch.
You know who I'm talkin' about.

At the table?

I don't know him.

- You don't know him.
- No.

- "No," what?
- No, sir.

You wouldn't lie to me, now, would you?

OK.

Yeah. 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.

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 bandyin' 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.
- Hm-mm.

You know, Monsieur Candie,
you do possess the power of persuasion.

Why not?
Monsieur Candie, you have a deal.

- Eskimo Joe, $12,000.
- Hooray, doctor.

Hooray.
And a wise decision that is.

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.

Hm-mm.

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?

To The Black Hercules.

The Black Hercules.

To The Black Hercules.

You was right, doctor.
That name do have pan-ass.

Hm.

Hildi, top my drink off.

So, Hildi, how you like servin'
at the big table in The Big House, huh?

When Monsieur Candie talk to you,
you answers.

- I like it a lot, Monsieur Candie.
- Hm-mm.

It's a lot better than sizzlin'
in that Hot Box or draggin' your ass

through a bramble bush.

But maybe it's not quite as much fun as
gettin' to pleasure all them Mandingos,

- huh, sugar bear?
- Oh, Lord, she like them niggers.

- Sure do.
- Like Samson? Huh?

No, sir.

You know, Monsieur Candie,

the doctor here might be interested
in seein' Hildi's peeled back,

seein' as how they don't have
many niggers where he come from.

Dr. Schultz,
when you was alone with Hildi, here,

did you just speak German
or did you get to take her clothes off?

No, we just talked and...

Oh, so you
haven't seen her back?

- I haven't...
- No, no, no, no.

Stephen's right,
you might find this interesting.

Hildi, go on, take off your dress.
Show Dr. Schultz your back here.

- Go on.
- Uh, Calvin.

I just got her all dressed up
and lookin' 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 somethin'
like four lashes on her back.

Lara Lee just get one,
she'd lose her goddamn mind.

- Sure would.
- Look at that, doctor.

- It's like a paintin'. Look at that.
- Calvin!

We are eating. Ain't no one wanna
look at her whipped up back.

Fine. Fine, fine, fine, fine.

After dinner, then, Stephen.
After dinner.

During the brandies, gentlemen, hm?

Cora, come get this girl!

- She a mess.
- Yes, ma'am. 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?

I ain't.

Then why is you crying?

You scarin' me.

- Why is I'm scaring you?
- Because you scary.

To speak German
this afternoon with Hildi

was positively soul-enriching.

Doctor,
that warms my heart to hear that.

You stay right here.

You indicated earlier
you'd be willing to part with Hildi.

Why, yes.
Yessiree bob, I did.

In that case, allow me
to propose another proposition.

I'm all ears.

Hurry up, goddamn it!

- Monsieur Candie...
- Stephen!

You just interrupted Dr. Schultz here.

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.

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.

Meet me in the library.

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 will be along momentarily.

Yessir.

Well, gentlemen, as you can see,

talented as they are,
no doubt, in the kitchen,

from time to time,
adult supervision is required.

If you'll excuse me a moment.

You may clear
the dinner service.

You heard him. Go on!
Get! Hurry up, girl.

So, Dr. Schultz, why don't you
regale us with a tale of the circus.

The circus?

What is the matter?

Them motherfuckers
ain't here to buy no Mandingos.

They wants that girl.

Stephen, what the hell
are you talking about? Hm?

They playing your ass for a fool
is what I'm talking about.

They ain't here for
no musclebound Jimmie.

They here for that girl.

Wh... What girl? Hildi?

Yeah, Hildi. Her and Django,
them niggers know each other.

He just bought Eskimo Joe.

- Did he give you any money?
- No! Not yet. But...

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.

Where you gettin' all this?

Why would they go through
all that trouble for a nigger

with a chewed up back,
ain't worth $300?

They doin' 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 have bit me.

Those lying...

goddamn time-wastin'
sons of bitches.

Sons of bitches!

Out of New Orleans, so I have quite
a bit of practice with theater types.

Oh, there you are.

I was beginning to think that you
and that old crow run off together.

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? Hm?

- Of course, brother.
- Thank you, darling.

- Yeah. Business never sleeps.
- Hm-mm.

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.

Who's your little friend?

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 huge
plantation owner in Mississippi

puts a white man in contact
with a whole lotta 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 only had one question:

Why don't they kill us?

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 woulda
cut my daddy's goddamn throat

and it wouldn't have taken me
no 50 years to do it, neither.

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...

you will notice
three distinct dimples.

Here, here and here.

Now...

if I was holding the skull
of an Isaac Newton 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 turtle shell 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.

Sit your ass in that goddamn...

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 willin' 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."

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...

what I'm gonna desire to do is...

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.

That 12.

Sold!

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.

It was a pleasure doing
business with y'all.

Now, gentlemen...

if you care to
join me in the parlor...

we will be serving white cake.

Well done, Calvin.

Excuse me.
Excuse me, ma'am?

Could you please stop playing Beethoven?
Take your hands off the harp!

Doctor!

- Doctor, you can't go in there!
- 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.

Hm.

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 bill of sale,
her ownership history,

and, of course,
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, "goodbye."

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.

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 signin',
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.

You really want me to shake your hand?

I insist.

If you insist.

No! Calvin!

Calvin!

I'm sorry. I couldn't resist.

Ni99er's gone crazy! Help!

Help, he's killing everyone!

Ah!

Holy...!

Shit! Son of a bitch!

Damn it! Fuckin'...!

Get the...!

Damn it, son of a bitch!

What...? Fucking...

Goddamn it!

What the fuck is going on?

You shot me!

- You stupid son of a bitch!
- Sorry, Jessie!

Who the fuck gave a nigger
a goddamn gun?

Aim low!

Nigger! Gonna kill...!

God! Oh, my God!

Motherfucker!

Shit!

Shit.

Hold your fire!

Hold your fire!

Stop shootin', goddamn it!

Django!

What?

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.

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!

Honest lnjun, 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!

Don't do it.
You give me up.

- Six!
- Just let me go.

- Seven!
- They got too much.

- Django.
- Eight!

- I love you.
- Nine!

- Hold it!
- No.

L give UP-

I can't hear you, nigger.

I said I give up!

No!

No!

Cock-a-doodle-do, nigger.

So y'all bounty hunters, huh?

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?

Time to say good night
to them nuts, blackie.

On three. One...

I got you. Two...

Calm down, now, here it comes.

" 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.

Well, she didn't
waste a minute telling me.

How disappointing.

You leavin'.

This here what you take with you.

Your black ass has 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 fuckin' 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, hm... seven minutes.

Most of 'em.

Well, more than most.

"Shitfire.

The niggers we sell to LeQuint Dickey
got it worse than that."

And they still sayin',
"Let's whip him to death."

Or "Throw him to the Mandingos."
"Feed him to Stonesipher's dogs."

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 ya.

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.

And what's
the golden rule, Frankie, eh?

You don't root abos.

Hey, white boy.

I said, hey, white boy.

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.

What the fuck are you talking about?

Back there at that plantation,
Candyland, there was an $11,500 fortune,

just sittin' 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 waitin'
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 killed innocent people.

Stagecoach robbery.
Innocent white people.

I got the handbill right here
in my pocket, if you let me get it.

Get it out.

"Wanted. Dead or alive. Smitty
Bacall and the Smitty Bacall Gang."

- But you're a slave.
- "For murder..."

- 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 their ass
layin' 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 is 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 ridin' back in there
and gettin' it.

What's the deal?

You tell us who they are
and we turn you loose?

No, 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.

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?

Did that black ride
into Candyland yesterday?

All right, I'm gonna ask you again.

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 fuckin' sure about that?
- Damn sure.

- What happened over in Candyland?
- Bunch-a shootin'.

Massa got shot.

- Who shot him?
- The German.

Why'd he do that?

Nigger and the German was actin'
like they were slavers but they wasn't.

- Well, what were they?
- Bounty hunters.

Fuck me, Roy.
I mean, 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.
- Hey...

you're a funny bugger.

- Cut him loose.
- Yeah, yeah.

You got yourself a deal, blackie.

You got yourself a deal, mate.

Hey!

You're all right for a black fella.

Oh, yeah.

There we go.
There you go, mate.

Yeah.

We're gonna give you
that packhorse over there.

What them saddlebags got in 'em?

- Dynamite.
- 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.

Now, Floyd, you got that
rifle up on the wagon, don't ya?

Yeah, right.

Why don't you give him
your gun and gun belt?

Righto.

Now, don't drop the fuckin' thing,
all right?

I've just had the sights fixed
and they're perfect.

Oh, that's good to know.

Throw me up that dynamite.

- Jake!
- Yeah?

Get out there and see what's
wrong with them goddamn dogs!

D'Artagnan, motherfuckers!

Hey!

Auf Wiedersehen.

It's me, baby.

♪ In the sweet

♪ By-and-by

♪ We will meet

♪ On that beautiful shore

♪ By-and-by

♪ By-and-by

♪ By-and-by

♪ We will meet

- J' We will meet by-and-by
- Cora?

Would you prepare us some coffee?

Sheba, you help her.

Come on.

♪ In the sweet

♪ By-and-by

♪ Oh... A'

Oh, y'all gonna be together with Calvin
in the by-and-by, all right.

Just a bit sooner
than y'all was expectin'.

Billy Crash.

Now, where were we?

Oh, that's right.

Last time I seen you,
you had your hands on my...

Django!
You black son of a bitch!

The D is silent, hillbilly.

Oh, no!

Now, all you black folks,

I suggest you get away
from all these white folks.

Not you, Stephen.

You right where you belong.

Cora, before you go,
will you tell Miss Lara goodbye?

- Do what now?
- I said, "Tell Miss Lara goodbye."

Bye, Miss Lara.

Y'all two run along now.

Stephen, how you like my new duds?

You know, before now I didn't know
that burgundy was my color.

I count six shots, nigger.

I count two guns, nigger.

You said in 76 years on this plantation,

you seen all manner-a shit
done to niggers.

But I notice,
you didn't mention kneecappin'.

Oh, God! Motherfucker! Damn it!

Seventy-six years, Stephen.

How many niggers you think
you see come and go, huh?

Seven thousand?

Eight thousand?

Nine thousand?

Nine thousand, nine hundred
and ninety-nine?

Every single word that came
out of Calvin Candie's mouth

was nothin' but horseshit.

I am that one nigger in 10,000.

You son of a bitch!

You motherfucker!

Oh, sweet Jesus,
let me kill this nigger!

You ain't gonna get away with this,
Django!

They gonna catch your black ass.

You gonna be on the
wanted posters now, nigger.

The bounty hunters
gonna be lookin' for you.

You can run, nigger,
but they gonna find your ass!

And when they do, oh, 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's always gonna be a Candyland!

Can't no nigger gunfighter
kill all the white folks in the world!

They gonna find your black ass!

Django!

You uppity son of a...

Hey, Little Trouble Maker.

Hey, Big Trouble Maker.

You know what they are going to call
you? "The fastest gun in the South."

Let's get outta here.

Who was that nigger?