A man is torn apart by ferocious dogs. A woman is whipped. Blood liberally sprays as bullets rip through bodies.

Django Unchained is the latest work of cinematic excess by Quentin Tarantino. Tarantino’s newest ode to abuse and payback is punctuated by graphic aggression and grievous bodily harm. But you knew that already.

Unusually, for a film-maker whose output gushes with extreme violence, language, and scenarios, Tarantino is a household name. And his films, since Pulp Fiction (1994), are watched by a more diverse audience than expected – considering the confronting, offensive material he reliably creates.

Taking place in and around the American Civil War, Django Unchained is a shameless fairytale anchored in the horrific, debased world of slavery. Bounty hunter King Schultz (Christoph Waltz) buys slave Django (Jamie Foxx) and enlists him as his assistant. Copious “kills for cash” ensue, before Django Unchained reaches its target – plantation boss Calvin Candie (Leonardo DiCaprio).

Candie owns Django’s wife. Schultz and his apprentice conspire to free her, inevitably leading to an overflowing pile of corpses.

Tarantino’s penchant for vengeance, as a central thrust of his films, is inescapable. From the basement in Pulp Fiction to the overarching vendetta of Kill Bill, this assured film-maker trades in the vicious stuff of human “justice”. His last release, Inglourious Basterds (2009), was a deliriously gleeful rewriting of World War II, revelling in fiery judgment upon Hitler and Nazis.

Somehow, Tarantino’s revenge fantasy against Hitler didn’t seem as insensitive and arrogant as Django Unchained’s slavery backdrop. Perhaps because The Fuhrer is a palatable target, where human trafficking comes off as a pawn, employed to serve Tarantino’s insatiable lust for movie makeovers (Django Unchained pays homage to a 1966 Italian “spaghetti western”).

Django Unchained is an empowerment story divorced of genuine feeling or compassion. Liberal use of the “N” word, and a scene which mocks the Ku Klux Klan’s cloaked bigotry, add up to insulting gimmickry, not heartfelt commentary.

Paired with free-flowing violence, Django’s quest for revenge becomes a tale of self-righteous reprisal. One song on the soundtrack summarises Django’s grandiose justification: “Now I’m not afraid to do the Lord’s work. You say vengeance is his, but I’m going to do it first.”

Centuries ago, through his famous servant Moses, God did decree that vengeance is His. Following the provision of laws to the nation of Israel, for how to live as His blessed people, God warns that only He has the power and right to appropriately judge human actions.

“I will take vengeance on My adversaries and repay those who hate Me,” (Deuteronomy 32:41) says God. Sounds harsh, until we grasp the Biblical account of just God having to deal – throughout human history – with people rebelling against His authority.

Where Tarantino’s ultra-violence remains repellent yet has become familiar, we still can be confronted by God’s shocking verdict upon those who do Him wrong.

Tarantino could learn much from God. Instead of brutal humanity being the reason for revenge, God’s wrath upon His enemies flows from He being the perfect judge of everyone. Better yet, God also provides the only true justice we can rely upon and be saved by. Django Unchained’s resolution can’t compete with the extravagent salvation of Jesus Christ.