With a penchant for provocation, Quentin Tarantino has an unmistakably postmodern approach to soundtrack design. As an archetypal "melomane" auteur (Gorbman 2007), he frequently juxtaposes the iconic and the ironic, making use of late sixties pop-rock and the music of seventies genre films—spaghetti westerns, Blaxploitation, horror—in surprising and occasionally disturbing ways (Garner 2001, Tincknell 2006, Coulthard 2012). The latter half of his career has been explicitly oriented around historical revisionism, utilizing this music to imagine what "might have been" if life were more like cinema (Garner 2013). But, in his 2012 antebellum western Django Unchained, Tarantino makes use of two works from the Classical-Romantic canon that don't fit neatly within his normal approach: the Dies irae from Verdi's Requiem and Beethoven's "Für Elise." This music stands out as anachronistic, rupturing the historical and stylistic logic at work within the film, as well as Tarantino's oeuvre more broadly. This article explores the surprising inclusion of nineteenth-century music within Tarantino's constructed film-world, bound as his texts typically are within his highly specific audiophilic and cinephilic taste. The tangible break from his signature style offers an opportunity to assess the limitations of auteurist control itself, to consider how and why an auteur may temporarily decenter their own musical preferences. I interpret this as a conscious strategy of audiovisual rupture, in which Tarantino intentionally destabilizes his constructed film-world as a method of historical critique. The analysis focuses on a scene set to Verdi's Dies irae, in which Tarantino restages the famous climax of The Birth of a Nation (D.W. Griffiths, 1915) set to Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries." This sequence revives Griffith's work and its racist ideology in order to parody it, temporarily surrendering control of the film's historical imagination only to reclaim it and imagine other possibilities. This push-and-pull suffuses the narrative of Django Unchained as a whole, concerned as it is with the hero's journey toward self-determination. I argue that Tarantino's use of nineteenth-century music reveals tensions around control and liberation, speaking to his anxieties as a filmmaker and his philosophy around historical revisionism. [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]