Sweet
is probably the last word you’d expect to use in describing
a film about an aging black man who chains a young white
woman to a radiator to cure her of her demons. In the
rural South, of all places.
Sweet,
however, is what “Black Snake Moan” ultimately, unexpectedly
becomes.
This
is a movie that’s definitely going to make people angry.
Many will view it as racist, misogynistic or both–or
just plain hard to watch. It doesn’t exactly shy away
from being pulpy or over‑the‑top, which
can be both its allure and its greatest weakness.
But
if you can just accept the metaphor, and that’s what
writer‑director Craig Brewer intends the chain
to be, you’ll find an ingenious vision of the fundamental
concept of redemption. Love lost and found, faith lost
and found–Brewer takes these tried‑and‑true
themes and breathes bold, fresh life into them.
As
in his last film, 2005’s “Hustle & Flow,” he shows
a keen ability to evoke a thick, rich mood. This place
is so hot and sticky, you might break into a sweat just
watching it. Both films were mostly shot in Memphis,
Tenn., where Brewer was raised.
But
this time he’s gotten better at developing his characters.
Despite tour‑de‑force work from Terrence
Howard as a wannabe rapper (and that irresistibly catchy,
Oscar‑winning song “It’s Hard Out Here for a Pimp”),
“Hustle & Flow” paraded an array of pimp‑and‑ho
cliches, and its tale of struggling artistry is one
we’ve seen a million times before.
There’s
more nuance here, more humanity. Samuel L. Jackson’s
Lazarus and Christina Ricci’s Rae form a friendship
that’s complicated, strange, often funny, but in the
end balanced and very warm. S. Epatha Merkerson and
Justin Timberlake complete the picture as the people
who love them.
And
the music? Let’s just say Jackson could step up to the
mike at any juke joint on any night and bring the house
down. (Ironically, Timberlake is the one person in this
movie who doesn’t get to sing.)
As
Lazarus, a small‑time farmer whose wife has left
him for his younger brother, Jackson gets to be everything
you want to see him be on the screen: forceful, no‑nonsense
and slightly unpredictable. But there’s a softer side,
too, which is evident when Lazarus finds Rae lying on
the side of the road near his house.
Rae
is absolutely heartbreaking to watch–she’s so damaged
after a lifetime of abuse, of using her body to relate
to men because it’s the only thing she knows, she seems
utterly beyond repair. The one man who loved her for
her–who was her salvation, as she was his–is Timberlake’s
Ronnie, who’s just left for boot camp.
When
Lazarus finds Rae, she’s still in a stupor from having
numbed herself at a party the previous night with booze
and drugs. She’s been beaten up, raped and kicked from
the front seat of a pickup truck wearing nothing but
a cut‑off T‑shirt (emblazoned with a rebel
flag, naturally) and a pair of white cotton panties.
It’s a brave performance from Ricci, who’s never been
afraid of challenging material.
Lazarus
picks her up and begins nursing her back to health but
soon realizes she’s in far worse shape than he’d imagined.
She has these spells–this is where “Black Snake Moan”
might lose you–in which she seethes and writhes from
the inside out, and the only way she knows how to cure
them is to act out in a brazenly sexual fashion.
Hence
the chain–which is long and metal, and had been languishing
in a box in Lazarus’ barn until he wraps it around Rae’s
skinny waist. He figures that as long as he’s got her
secured, she can’t cause herself (or anyone else) any
harm. Lazarus also pulls out the old electric guitar
he’d stopped playing and feels comfortable enough to
sing her the blues–that helps. (One of the songs also
provides inspiration for the movie’s title.) Sometimes
the local preacher (John Cothran) stops by with a few
words of advice–that helps, too.
It’s
a crazy concept. It felt crazy writing it down just
now. But as their relationship develops, they learn
to trust and open up to each other, and there’s hope
that they might become the people they’d lost sight
of being.
Sounds
hokey, but it feels startlingly alive and new.
“Black
Snake Moan,” a Paramount Vantage release, is rated R
for strong sexual content, language, some violence and
drug use. Running time: 116 minutes. Three stars out
of four.
