Dear Quentin Tarantino,

First off, big fan. It’s probably a bad thing that I can slip quotes from “Pulp Fiction” into everyday conversation, but I’m going to call it a skill and leave it at that. I think you’ve mastered the art of dialogue, the give and take between characters as violence occurs all around them. It all seems perfectly normal and mundane.

I have to ask, however: Why censor “Django Unchained,” just for the Chinese market? I realize its the largest film market after the United States, but are you so hard up for cash you’ll alter your work, subdue the violence, the gore, just to get the film shown?

And not even to get it shown. Even after all that reediting, the Chinese censors still pulled the film on Friday, its opening day.

You! You censored your own work! You who, in 2003, encouraged kids to sneak into “Kill Bill” as a challenge to the R-rating. You who, when asked about your excessive use of the n-word actually said the word, and added, “They think I should soften it, that I should lie, that I should massage. I would never do that when it comes to my characters.” You who, when asked in an NPR interview about the relationship between violence in your films to the real violence of the Sandy Hook massacre replied, in disgust and admitted annoyance, “They have nothing to do with each other. … Yeah, I’m really annoyed. I think it’s disrespectful to their memory actually.”

A myriad of rumors shot around the Internet trying to explain why the film got pulled: excessive violence, unspecified technical problems, Jamie Foxx’s penis. I can’t say with certainty why it won’t air on Chinese screens, and because you’ve neglected to comment on Django’s toning down for China, I can’t say what you actually altered. But considering “Django” was to be the first of your films cleared for distribution in China, it is no less violent or blood-soaked than your earlier films, and I don’t imagine Chinese censorship laws have lessened any. I’m concerned about your artistic integrity.

Zhang Miao, director of the Chinese branch of Sony Pictures, stated, “What we call bloodshed and violence will not affect the basic quality of the film — such as turning the blood to a darker color, or lowering the height of the splatter.” He says that only you can make the adjustments.

Which worries me. If you can make the adjustments, and you’re willing to make the adjustments, what does that say about the films you release in the United States, and other markets outside of China? Are those unnecessarily violent? I don’t think so. More importantly, I don’t think you think so. The violence broadcast in a film stamped with the Tarantino “genre” has purpose.

Character makes story, Mr. Tarantino, and you — more than anyone — recognize that. Now-iconic players like Mr. Pink and Vincent Vega and Lieutenant Aldo Raine stick with us because we recognize their realities. The violence in your films is a character, too. It expresses the horrific chapters in history by separating film violence from real violence, a fact on which you commented: “There’s two types of violence in this film: There’s the brutal reality that slaves lived under for…245 years, and then there’s the violence of Django’s retribution. And that’s movie violence, and that’s fun and that’s cool.” Those distinctions are necessary, and to remove them from a film premiering in one country while lauding their purpose in another draws questions as to your motive — and your message.

The violence in “Django” acts in a different way than most of your other films because of the subject with which it is associated. To discuss slavery, a man oppressed and able to rise from that oppression, and designate it from film violence very clearly, provides a commentary on both actions. It allows movie-goers to experience a part of the horrific reality of bondage — and then to experience the joy when such bondage gets thrown off. 

The audience knows what they get when going to a Tarantino film: a phenomenal soundtrack, a nonlinear narrative and an obscene level of violence. They rely on those cues to help them make sense of the film, not just to enjoy it, but to take on larger issues and work through them. There’s a sense of community and understanding in “Django,” of freedom and democracy, and downplaying those associations in China doesn’t make your film stronger or more accessible. It reduces to pulp.

Sarah is a senior in LAS. She can be reached at [email protected].