Black Snake Moan

Craig Brewer’s Black Snake Moan makes its intentions known from its very opening moments. With vintage ramblings on the definition of the blues and an in your face sex scene between stars Christina Ricci and Justin Timberlake starting off the movie with a bang, he’s very clearly telling the potentially confused audience members suspecting either a safe narrative or a vacantly explicit Tarrantino pulp-fest to quietly excuse themselves from the theater. Though I doubt anyone who has seen an ad expects it to be wholesome, there will be quite a few people expecting the latter of those two potential viewer misunderstandings and they would be dead wrong. Black Snake Moan does play with elements of pulp and Southern Gothic with its kitschy narrative and nearly surreal depictions of aggressively dark lives. It’s not a hollow depiction, though, by any means. It is a vicious, raunchy rumination on the weight of emotional burdens and the afflictions of humanity. Most importantly, it is a movie about redemption, a film that for all its surface aggression boasts a tender heart. Much like its coarse characters whose obvious indelicacy makes them largely outsiders, this film will send many people running at first glance. However, if you stick around you will see that it is actually a thing of beauty underneath, a big glob of sweet honey wrapped up tightly in barbed wire.

To call it a sociopath’s love story would be harsh, but there is no doubt that this film has its sights set on the hearts of distant cynics (including the ones within the film). The best means by which to strike such a nerve is to bury all the joy under layers of complication and despite all the moments of utter hopefulness Black Snake Moan offers, the film never escapes bittersweet territory enough to fall into sheer optimism. It is part full out, unreal spectacle and part authentic, gritty heartbreaker. The characters have a cold, perfected style that makes you very aware you are watching a film, and a fairly unconventional one at that. You can see them working. You can see Brewer’s fast cuts, his colored tints, his rhythmical, musical editing. It is right before your eyes and yet the illusion remains. You still believe that somehow these people are real people even if they could live only in a world made for a movie. It is a master trick of tone and style that takes moments to sink in, but eventually becomes an expected norm throughout the film.

Christina Ricci is without a doubt that standout in this stellar cast of mostly misfits. As Rae, an emotionally scarred, self-destructive, nymphomaniac Ricci captures the sort of uninhibited, breathtakingly earnest movie magic that is often hard to find. Much like the film, she’s clearly putting on a show. She comes armed with a fabricated southern drawl and an iconic looking set of hardly existent costumes (including that well publicized chain). Yet, you can still sense the scared little girl behind her defiant expression and aggressive sexuality. There’s something deeply false about her, but also something commandingly authentic. She’s like a caricature with a hidden soul. The same could be said of Samuel L. Jackson’s Bible loving Lazarus, a lonely man in a state of dire hopelessness seeking to redeem anyone he can. He makes decisions that should imply insanity, but somehow we still like him. Society tend to frown upon the practice of chaining strange women to radiators until you can wash away their evil, but in this context it we’re willing to deal with the idea. It is Lazarus’ goodness that surprises us. You might assume the act to be malevolent, but however misguided it might be, he does intend to aid the tragic young woman. Jackson hasn’t been this solid in a long time and it is a great relief to see him inhabiting a character as boldly and convincingly as this. He actually earns his paycheck on this one.

The course of film will probably surprise you as will the softness at its core. The relationship between Lazarus and Rae is not a destructive one, but rather one of healing. They cleanse each other enough to get Laz back on his feet and Rae back into the arms of her decent boyfriend, Ronny (Timberlake in his second solid film performance). To see Ricci finally unleash a smile near the movie’s end is one of the most satisfying instances of happiness on film in recent memory. There’s such a dark cloud looming above the heads of these troubled characters that even the suggestion that happiness is possible feels more rewarding than any happy ending a far less grounded feature could offer. This is a freewheeling, excitingly original film weighted with a genuine sincerity that pierces the ruckus and makes this something special.

Grade: A