I can't say I believed anything I saw in "Black Snake Moan." While that's usually a bad thing for a character-based drama, in this case it's just the opposite. What goes on in this certifiably nuts movie is so extreme and original that you can't help gazing at it in awe.
When you're not inclined to divert your eyes, anyway. A journey into the Dirty South that's both unapologetically exploitative and genuinely sensitive, "Moan" tells the - um, shall we say unusual? - tale of a rural Tennessee gal who just can't get enough lovin' and the well-meaning older gentleman who tries to teach her some self-respect.
Or, put another way, Christina Ricci's Rae is the town slut, and Samuel L. Jackson's Lazarus chains her to his radiator. She's been beaten into unconsciousness when he discovers her underclad body near his farm.
Initially, Lazarus only intends to nurse her back to physical health. But when he learns of Rae's reputation - the result of being abused as a child - Lazarus decides to save her soul, too. And although he may be the first man whom Rae's ever met that's not interested in her carnally, his intentions are hardly pure.
A reformed juke joint blues-shouter, he's kind of gone
Well, I don't want to give too much away, but I am here to tell you that "Moan" slithers into some totally unexpected emotional territory by the time it all gets played out, and the film is peculiarly touching if you allow it to work its strange mojo on you. It's also quite harrowing, especially whenever Rae allows herself to be physically debased and Lazarus' rage drives him to delusional projection. And it's very, very funny in places, due both to the absurdity of the situation and just the things that come out of the main and other characters' mouths.
My favorite supporting player is Preacher R.L. (John Cothran), Laz's lifelong buddy, who presents a rare example of practical faith in modern movies while spinning laugh lines just right.
Justin Timberlake is also solid as the true love of Rae's life, a damaged young man in his own right whose absence sets the little lady off on her life-changing bender. But the main show here is Ricci and Jackson's, who both separately and together have seldom been better. Waif- skinny and peroxide-skanky, Ricci delves so deep into Rae's pain and confusion that the exposure of her body - not to mention its steel shackles - become secondary considerations.
Plus, there's a defiance and spunk in this devastated girl that make her not merely pitiful, but a power to be reckoned with. Jackson can be fearsome, too, but that's not news. It's the way that he illuminates Lazarus' weaknesses and the righteous old crab's capacity to grow and accept that are the revelations here.
( Jackson learned to play guitar for the role, and he finger-picks and sings the blues more than adequately.) Writer-director Craig Brewer, who made the equally hard-to- swallow yet somehow persuasive pimp/rap spectacle "Hustle Flow," provides the cast with great lines, startling bits of business and severe issues to work through. But he also gives them charm, wit and quiet moments that can actually be called lovely.
The integrated contemporary South he depicts rings truer than any other aspect of the movie, and Brewer's film takes great joy in sharing and blending cultural differences. Whether this is enough to prevent the movie from being sexist, lewd or just plain sick is up to the individual viewer. But whatever its vices, "Black Snake Moan" has undeniable virtues, too, the primary of which is complete uniqueness.
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