It was the natural thing that, after making one out of each B-movie sub-genre exploitation product of the late 60's early 70's, Tarantino would fall for the oxymoron: a Western-Spaguetti made in America. "They stole them from us?, we're stealing them back".
Now, like with every Tarantino, the story is just an excuse for creating sequences of clever spoken exposition and unstoppable blood-bath. And the idea of this Django Freeman, who's granted his freedom in the opening sequence by a german who roams our lands in search of "wanted" men, is precisely the stuff those good-old movies were made of, so we should really take our hats off to a Tarantino that knows how to change gears and become a vessel of those horrible movies we love.
Now let's talk about the acting. Everyone is above judgement. There is no Oscar, no award to recognize the titanic work of Jamie Foxx, Christoph Waltz and Leonardo Di Caprio with a cast that never slips (Even Don Johnson is unrecognizably spectacular). And when it comes to the music, you will never find a filmmaker with such an instinctive ear.
Of course, once you stop enjoying the simple pleasure of a simple film, and really watch each scene, you'll find out there's subtext hidden everywhere (from the cotton fields being spattered with blood from a white man that has been killed by a black man (turning the tables on the same image of black slaves being killed by whites), to the first exercise in free will of Django in selecting his "costume"), but all of that's gonna come out after the haze of the first viewing has evaporated and you stop seeing this film as a rollercoaster ride, which it is...and it isn't.