tlavideo.com

Review

Advertised as leaning towards a trashy, exploitation flick, Black Snake Moan is really a thoughtful if slightly over-dramatic essay on love lost and regained, religion and southern blues. Lazurus (Samuel L. Jackson) is a man scorned by his wife, a righteous man, farming the land, respected by the townfolk. Rae (Christina Ricci) is the steamy, over-sexed town slut, trying to mend her ways with Ronnie (Justin Timberlake), the first man who she truly cares about. Accented at the beginning and near the end with archival footage of blues musician Son House, the film drives home the point that although much suffering may exist, man and woman can live harmoniously together, if the suffering can forge better character. Rae has been abused, (an overused cliche) hence her behavior, acting out the whore role. The film contains a goodly share of patented Ricci flesh, showing much battering and bruising by uncaring males. When Lazurus finds an unconscious Rae in his driveway, he takes her into his home, tends to her sickly self and chains her to the radiator, like the wild thing she is.

This is where director Craig Brewer (Hustle and Flow) could write his film like camp cult or drive deeper into character motivation and development. Wisely, he chooses the latter path. You see, Ronnie has left for the army and Rae must fend for herself. While living, chained in Lazurus’s house, she battles her demons, memories of abuse rushing into awareness. The chain becomes the metaphor of both love and hate, reminding her of her limits, yet strangely comforting as she twists it around her half-naked body.

As Rae slowly begins to re-integrate her personality with the help of Lazurus, Ronnie comes back to town unexpectedly, rejected by the armed forces for a panic disorder. He goes on a rampage after discovering Rae is missing, finally finding her in the house of Lazurus. The white trash aspects of the film are never played for laughs, and all characters are treated with respect for their situations, avoiding stereotyping.

 -- Max Brinck