In 2005's "Hustle & Flow," director Craig Brewer traveled to the dirty South to show audiences how it's "hard out here for a pimp." His latest effort "Black Snake Moan" journeys down the dusty back roads of Tennessee to uncover just how hard it is for a nympho, and this time around Brewer succeeds, albeit in a peculiar, Bible-toting sort of way.
Ushered along by the snarling swagger of the blues, Brewer takes his audience trailer-side, into the troubled life of young sex addict Rae (Christina Ricci, "Monster"). She's been a victim of abuse since childhood and struggles to find emotional and physical pleasure — especially after her knight-in-blue-collar armor Ronnie (Justin Timberlake, "Alpha Dog") is shipped off to the armed forces. Clad in nothing more than cutoffs and Confederate paraphernalia, the foul-mouthed waif sets out to find satisfaction at a good ole' fashioned house party (or at least engage in some heavy substance abuse) and eventually winds up unconscious in an even less-clothed heap in the gravel.
Viewers can only imagine the surprise righteous farmer Lazarus (Samuel L. Jackson, "Snakes on a Plane") receives when he's throwing out his adulterous wife's belongings in the morning and discovers the battered, nearly-nekkid woman in his ditch. Over the course of the next few days, Laz discovers he is not dealing with the average wayward stranger, but one so craving of gratification that she pants and wails and runs off in the night.
Naturally, like any decent Samuel L. character, Laz has had enough of Rae and her wild ways and sets out to exercise the sex-craving demons from the dirty blond she-devil — even if it means chaining her to the radiator, walking her through the cornfields and feeding her a healthy diet of Southern cooking and blues music.
While the offbeat, if not completely messed up, plotline combinations sound absurd, it is the borderline ridiculousness of "Black Snake Moan" mixed in with strong, emotional performances by the lead actors and a shot of Southern comfort that make the film surprisingly effective. Sure, it has all of the fixings of a romance (or rather love ripped at the seams by war), drama (see previous or also note: abuse victim dealing with her inner struggles, tough older man simultaneously overcoming his own marital hardships), comedy (Samuel L. follows up the "motherfucking" line of the summer with even more one-line gems) and heck, even B-grade porn (woman in a belly shirt and some bikini underwear confined to chains).
Yes, there are some questionable words of wisdom from the small-town folk: "She got that sickness. She gotta get dick or she go crazy." But despite its blending of wide-ranging elements, the film plays as easily as a lazy summer day, bold at the right moments and opening the right opportunities for the emotive blues catharsis to shine through.
Writer/director Brewster never misses a chance to bring out the rich essence of his Tennessee setting, be it through sights or sounds. Starting with the film's soulful soundtrack he creates a sultry, humid air about the town and its residents and sets the overall framework of the film. With each passing twang of the guitar, each raspy growl of the chorus, the film's message becomes clearer: Similar to the words of those who've been wronged, the film is about learning from past mistakes and more importantly about recovery.
The lead actors do an excellent job of conveying that meaning. While an unlikely pair, Jackson and Ricci complement one another's performances and adequately play off their respective strengths and weaknesses. As can be expected, Jackson exudes a sense of confidence and creates the powerful, no-nonsense character audiences are used to seeing in his typical roles. However, in "Black Snake Moan," the actor also showcases an equally satisfying emotional side.
Fear not — Jackson's badass edge is not lost, only subtly expounded upon as he attempts to morally heal Ricci's troubled onscreen persona, at first through the means of his own spirituality, but later turning to less conventional methods. Likewise, Ricci pours a great variety of feelings into her character, crafting Rae as part volatile bitch, part helpless victim who is just looking for someone to listen to and help her. Luckily for the audience, Brewer avoids most of the potential cheese factor: This savior is Samuel L. and not of the likes of say, the ultra-sensitive James Van Der Beek-type character, who would likely start crying rather than reforming the troubled with an iron fist.
From the dubious appearance of its previews, "Black Snake Moan" hardly looks like a hit. But give the movie a chance; its heart and soul are surprising.
Grade: 3 out of 5
