Ain't But One Kind of Blues
If you're like most Americans, then you scratched your head in early 2007 when posters of Samuel L. Jackson clutching a chained Christina Ricci found their way onto multiplex walls. But before you judge this movie by its box art alone, there's much more to it than a Bible-thumping, ex-blues guitarist chaining the town nymphomaniac to his radiator. True, that may be the inciting incident, but director Craig Brewer of "Hustle & Flow" fame helms this swampy piece of Deep South Americana with unshakable panache and soaks it in a killer blues soundtrack that would make Muddy Waters jealous. His pair of leads also commit to even the more outlandish aspects of the plot with absolute conviction, drawing us into the God-fearing, blues-singing, (secretly) sex-crazed lives of Bible Belt Americans.
When her boyfriend (a then cinematically green Justin Timberlake) leaves for Iraq, Rae (Christina Ricci) begins an immediate slide into her addiction, literally having withdrawals from her lack of... well... just read the previous paragraph. After being beaten and left for dead by one of her many one-nighters, she is found by recently divorced farmer Lazarus (Samuel L. Jackson) who vows to rid her of her affliction. And of course the only logical way to do this is the movie's selling point. Let's be honest, the plot is more than a little ridiculous, but it's only a small piece of what "Black Snake Moan" has to offer.
Here, Brewer gives us a study of lost souls in rural America – victims of circumstance who've become trapped by the lives they've been forced to lead. Lazarus is an ex-blues guitarist whose wife aborted their only child and ran off with his brother, while Rae is a survivor of abuse who seeks to repeat destructive behavior because she doesn't feel worthy of affection. Though the circumstances of their meeting are a bit extreme, they find consolation in one another in a very human way, through shared experience and the blues. Ultimately, that's what this film is about: taking the things that haunt us and making them our own, changing them into something we can understand and learn to live with. When Lazarus picks up his old guitar and plucks out the heavy, grief-stricken title song, the sorrow in every note is palpable as is the grim understanding in Rae's eyes. Through song, she's knows his pain. That's the blues and that's what Brewer understands most of all.
The ending leaves a little to be desired considering the emotional journey on which Jackson and Ricci take us, but in the grand scheme of the movie, it's a small complaint. With great performances, contemplative direction and a killer soundtrack on display, there are several reasons to watch this film again and again. Just try not to think about the girl chained to the radiator.
Written December 2, 2013
When her boyfriend (a then cinematically green Justin Timberlake) leaves for Iraq, Rae (Christina Ricci) begins an immediate slide into her addiction, literally having withdrawals from her lack of... well... just read the previous paragraph. After being beaten and left for dead by one of her many one-nighters, she is found by recently divorced farmer Lazarus (Samuel L. Jackson) who vows to rid her of her affliction. And of course the only logical way to do this is the movie's selling point. Let's be honest, the plot is more than a little ridiculous, but it's only a small piece of what "Black Snake Moan" has to offer.
Here, Brewer gives us a study of lost souls in rural America – victims of circumstance who've become trapped by the lives they've been forced to lead. Lazarus is an ex-blues guitarist whose wife aborted their only child and ran off with his brother, while Rae is a survivor of abuse who seeks to repeat destructive behavior because she doesn't feel worthy of affection. Though the circumstances of their meeting are a bit extreme, they find consolation in one another in a very human way, through shared experience and the blues. Ultimately, that's what this film is about: taking the things that haunt us and making them our own, changing them into something we can understand and learn to live with. When Lazarus picks up his old guitar and plucks out the heavy, grief-stricken title song, the sorrow in every note is palpable as is the grim understanding in Rae's eyes. Through song, she's knows his pain. That's the blues and that's what Brewer understands most of all.
The ending leaves a little to be desired considering the emotional journey on which Jackson and Ricci take us, but in the grand scheme of the movie, it's a small complaint. With great performances, contemplative direction and a killer soundtrack on display, there are several reasons to watch this film again and again. Just try not to think about the girl chained to the radiator.
Written December 2, 2013