David O'ConnellBlack Snake Moan
October 28th 2008 02:49
A poor Southern black farmer and former blues guitarist chains up an ailing young white woman with loose morals in his home to cure her of her spiritual ills and free the devil’s wickedness from her life.
Writer and director Craig Brewer’s follow-up to his well-received 2005 film Hustle and Flow can hardly be accused of lacking the germ of an original idea! Here he negotiates a minefield on potentially shaky moral high ground - or a platform for misogynistic exploitation.
Samuel L. Jackson is Lazarus, the disillusioned farmer whose wife has just walked out on their marriage. One morning, this God-fearing man comes across the unconscious form of Rae (Christina Ricci), who’s been beaten and left by the side of the road.
Rae is the town’s harlot, known to sleep with all comers, especially when her boyfriend, Ronnie (Justin Timberlake), who just left for a tour of duty with the army, isn’t around to keep her in check.
She’s regularly plagued by a lustful delirium, like an overpowering fever dream, and only sexual release with the nearest man can cure this hunger, which begins with painful episodic flashbacks of her troubled upbringing.
Lazarus nurses her back to health, but upon hearing disturbing accounts of her ‘lifestyle’ from locals, he decides God has placed her in his path for a reason – to flush the Devil’s influence from her sinful life and align her way of reacting to the world with Christian ideals.
Part of this process doesn’t preclude the use of a chain however – one end padlocked to her body, the other secured to his radiator. She has range to move about the house, but must remain confined until the transformation is complete.
This dangerous, offbeat set-up seems primed for potentially interesting development but Brewer’s screenplay plays out in a surprisingly conventional manner as the drama, drained of any real suspense or compelling twists, unfolds.
An old blues song performed by Lazarus, from which the film’s title is derived, serves as an all too obvious metaphor for both Rae’s condition and the stirrings within Lazarus's own weakened self.
Rae's anxiety-ridden boyfriend, released by the army because of his incompetence under pressure, returns to momentarily inject a dangerous possibility into the scheme of things, only to need more help than poor Rae!
Jackson and Ricci give great performances, wholeheartedly throwing themselves into the fray of Brewer’s morality play, but the tame incongruity of the final scenes - lacking the courage of any convictions - is a massive disappointment.
Timberlake is surprisingly competent in most of his scenes too, whilst S. Epatha Merkerson, as a love interest for Lazarus, and John Cothran, as a preacher friend, are very good in smaller roles.
This southern Gothic parable fizzles out but still has plenty to offer, including the suitably blues-infused score by Scott Bomar and the attractive cinematography by Amelia Vincent, which manages to transform the usually bland surrounds of the impoverished South with a vibrant and subtle compliment of colours, especially in the interior scenes at Lazarus’s home.
Full of religious imagery and symbolism, both subtle and unsubtle, Black Snake Moan is a notable curiosity if nothing else, but one which would have been much better served by a more courageous conclusion with a much harder edge.
Writer and director Craig Brewer’s follow-up to his well-received 2005 film Hustle and Flow can hardly be accused of lacking the germ of an original idea! Here he negotiates a minefield on potentially shaky moral high ground - or a platform for misogynistic exploitation.
Samuel L. Jackson is Lazarus, the disillusioned farmer whose wife has just walked out on their marriage. One morning, this God-fearing man comes across the unconscious form of Rae (Christina Ricci), who’s been beaten and left by the side of the road.
Rae is the town’s harlot, known to sleep with all comers, especially when her boyfriend, Ronnie (Justin Timberlake), who just left for a tour of duty with the army, isn’t around to keep her in check.
Christina Ricci as a woman in chains!
She’s regularly plagued by a lustful delirium, like an overpowering fever dream, and only sexual release with the nearest man can cure this hunger, which begins with painful episodic flashbacks of her troubled upbringing.
Lazarus nurses her back to health, but upon hearing disturbing accounts of her ‘lifestyle’ from locals, he decides God has placed her in his path for a reason – to flush the Devil’s influence from her sinful life and align her way of reacting to the world with Christian ideals.
Part of this process doesn’t preclude the use of a chain however – one end padlocked to her body, the other secured to his radiator. She has range to move about the house, but must remain confined until the transformation is complete.
Samuel L. Jackson as Lazarus, hauling his quarry into position
This dangerous, offbeat set-up seems primed for potentially interesting development but Brewer’s screenplay plays out in a surprisingly conventional manner as the drama, drained of any real suspense or compelling twists, unfolds.
An old blues song performed by Lazarus, from which the film’s title is derived, serves as an all too obvious metaphor for both Rae’s condition and the stirrings within Lazarus's own weakened self.
Rae's anxiety-ridden boyfriend, released by the army because of his incompetence under pressure, returns to momentarily inject a dangerous possibility into the scheme of things, only to need more help than poor Rae!
Soothing the hurts with a reminder of the blues
Jackson and Ricci give great performances, wholeheartedly throwing themselves into the fray of Brewer’s morality play, but the tame incongruity of the final scenes - lacking the courage of any convictions - is a massive disappointment.
Timberlake is surprisingly competent in most of his scenes too, whilst S. Epatha Merkerson, as a love interest for Lazarus, and John Cothran, as a preacher friend, are very good in smaller roles.
Rae with boyfriend Ronnie (Justin Timberlake)
This southern Gothic parable fizzles out but still has plenty to offer, including the suitably blues-infused score by Scott Bomar and the attractive cinematography by Amelia Vincent, which manages to transform the usually bland surrounds of the impoverished South with a vibrant and subtle compliment of colours, especially in the interior scenes at Lazarus’s home.
Full of religious imagery and symbolism, both subtle and unsubtle, Black Snake Moan is a notable curiosity if nothing else, but one which would have been much better served by a more courageous conclusion with a much harder edge.
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