fresh movie reviews and yum cha daily

dir: Craig Brewer
Moaning Christina Ricci
The posters for this flick and the DVD are pure, purer, purest exploitation material. Big black man restraining a skinny white girl who is literally chained to him. The title reads “Black Snake Moan”, and your not unreasonable expectation is that this flick must be some kind of trashy crap. There’s an entire line of, uh, movies out there that focus on, um, interactions between African-American males and ‘white’ females. And the black snake they’re referring to is an entirely different animal.

You can debate the tastefulness of the promotion, and doubt the artistic merit of such an enterprise, but that would be doing this decent flick a grave disservice.

The Black Snake Moan of the title refers to the despair that can consume us whole in the face of a life spun out of control. Usually because of love gone wrong. Or stubbing your toe, whichever comes first.

The film opens and closes with ancient footage of genuine old school bluesman Son House pontificating about what the blues is about. Cut short, the blues is about the misery caused by interactions between men and women in love or lust. Same sex couples clearly are not part of this equation and need not apply. If a gay person with a broken heart listens to the blues and relates to it, then clearly they’re not gay enough.

Then we see the curious sight of Justin Timberlake ploughing away at Christina Ricci like she’s a field and there’s spring planting to be done in time for autumn harvest. Despite always looking like he’s about to burst into tears, Timberlake’s manful character Delroy or Bubba or Billy Ray suits up in his Marine uniform presumably to report for Iraq duty. As if the Iraqis didn’t have enough problems. Who knows, maybe playing Timberlake’s biggest hits from every tank and gunship might actually aid in the Great Middle Eastern Pacification Project now underway.

Ronnie’s departure for the Persian theatre leaves Rae (Ricci) at a loose end. She is so distraught over being alone that she naturally turns to drugs, booze and fucking to alleviate her pain.

It doesn’t help that she looks like a strung out meth addict as well. But her downward spiral looks like it could get her killed. Or worse.

Lazarus (Samuel L. Jackson) is a grizzled old bluesman with a lot of reasons to be blue. His younger wife just left him for a younger man (who happens to be his brother), and he lives his days in a shack, growing vegetables, and remembering a time when he wasn’t miserable. He tentatively picks out tunes on his guitar, remembering the days when he could get the kinds of places called juke joints or the Bucket O’ Blood jumping.

When he finds Rae passed out on the road, he recognises that she is in trouble. Also, that he would probably be in significant trouble if the townsfolk see him messing around with a white girl, even if she is renowned as the town slut. So he takes some unorthodox steps to save Rae from herself.

See, it should come as no surprise to anyone that Rae’s self-destructive behaviour and her limitless sexual desire are the product of childhood abuse. I can’t remember the last time a credible drama has a nympho character in it that wasn’t the product of childhood abuse. Stepdads of the world, take a bow. You are the movie archetype more maligned even than evil corporations, lawyers, priests, car salesmen and hippies.

In Lazarus’ eyes, since he is a God-fearing man, her sex addiction is almost demonic. In a scene of great terror (for him, not us), it seems as if Rae is possessed. He takes solace in the Bible, and presses on with his intention to help her.

This comes in the form of a big bloody chain, hence the promotional art for the film. He literally chains her to the radiator, which represents an anchor for him, or God, or the power of faith, or the virtues of indoor heating, I guess. He often looks over at the radiator with a mixture of hope and fear. Rae comes to love the chain after hating it, which you’d expect from an involuntary chainee. This should not, despite how odd it all seems, be confused with sadomasochism or bondage.

Though her crippled nature tries to reassert itself constantly through constantly trying to have sex with anything male that comes near her, especially Lazarus, theirs is not a sexual tension or relationship, no matter what the poster implies. Though Laz is just a man, after all, and temptation lurks even in the hearts and groins of men trying to be good.

But in her he sees a chance at redemption, for himself and for her. The biblical references aren’t necessarily meant to be taken literally, but they are real for Lazarus especially. After all, it’s no coincidence that he’s named after a guy from the New Testament famous for being dead for a while and being brought back to life somehow by some magical carpenter.

I forget what the guy’s name was. Regardless, Laz believes he can help the girl and himself. Over time he even tentatively approaches the idea of a relationship with a woman closer to him in age and inclinations than his previous wife, Miss Angela (S. Epatha Merkerson). But how sympathetic do you think she’s going to be when she sees the white girl chained to his radiator?

Rae, who is unrepentant white trash, does have problems that the chain can’t readily fix. It does, all the same, give her a basis to build on when the bad feelings rise up within her which usually results in her trying to fuck somebody. She is a nasty but not entirely unsympathetic character.

The acting work is fantastic throughout. I don’t know if I totally bought Samuel L in all the bits where he’s playing the blues, but he puts in some solid work here. He is an actor who often coasts easily through films based on his reputation and based on the belief that he really doesn’t need to vary his performances from film to film, because he’s Sam motherfucking Jackson. Here at least he creates and sustains a recognisably different character that stands distinct from much of his other work.

I can’t overstate just how wonderful he is as this character. He takes up all the misery of his life, and it is some genuine, powerful sorrow that transcends the usual “that woman done me wrong” shit that we’re talking about, and screams it through his music, turning the blues into the primal howl of sorrow that it is.

It’s less of a stretch for Ricci, who assays the character of a white trash ho with unsurprising ease. She has some of the weakest scenes in the film, especially when it comes to a reconciliation gone wrong with her mother, but her work with Jackson, which is the core of the flick, is exemplary. She really does need to stay off the pipe, though.

I’m not entirely sure why Justin Timberlake needs to be in this or any other movie, but he doesn’t entirely disgrace himself, even if he only gets to have two expressions on his face for the entire flick’s duration, and neither of them is particularly convincing. His character is important, all the same.

Still, this is a very odd film. Quite often I know where a film is going and what is going to be said from the opening credits onward, but this is a pretty original and inspired story, meaning than whilst it has thematic parallels with other movies, it doesn’t really fit into any box you can think of.

Craig Brewer has made two very strong films (the other being Hustle and Flow) thus far, which have, at their cores, complex (and often unpleasant) characters and strong themes related to music and self-development. His characters don’t spout clichés, and have believable arcs, but there is nothing neat about their transitions or end points. As well, they all seem to live in a very sweaty world, being the state of Tennessee, which prevents people from ever getting too comfortable.

This level of talent is humbling, it really is. I think Brewer is about my age, and has struggled excessively to even get these projects off the ground. All I can ask is that he must keep at it, because I find his films fascinating.

8 times that teenage boy won’t be forgetting his first time anytime soon out of 10

--
“So if you want to quit on me I understand. But please don't.” – Black Snake Moan.