Black Snake Moan

I was surprised by how good this exploitation film is. After all, the cover/poster art is an unabashed "borrow" from the iconic art from the S&M classic, 1974's Pets. See for yourself: ASIN# B07FMKN4P3 Samuel L. Jackson and Christina Ricci go to the brink here - two of their finest roles. The South isn’t just in Craig Brewer’s heart but underneath his fingernails as well, and with Black Snake Moan he gives his home region a kick-a** modern exploitation film to call its own. Whereas hip-hop was the groove underscoring Brewer’s overrated Hustle & Flow, it’s the blues that infects his latest, a sonic substitution that goes hand in hand with the writer-director’s storytelling maturation from a Little Pimp That Could fable to his current tale, which ultimately exudes skepticism over the possibility for personal transcendence and redemptive happily-ever-afters. Yet before such conclusions can be drawn about the filmmakers’ evolution (which also includes a more finely honed and controlled aesthetic), first one must make it through the provocative—and occasionally borderline-misogynistic—content that he serves up in bucketloads. Drenched in explosively charged imagery, Black Snake Moan is exploitation cinema of the grungiest, nastiest, and thus finest order, delivering a volatile batch of extreme sex, extreme profanity, and—most of all—extreme racial and gender dynamics. A B movie with an A-list cast, it’s an audaciously confrontational, button- and boundary-pushing work, marked by a sharp wit and a gleeful desire to see just how much it can get away with. As it turns out, that’s quite a lot, thanks in large part to Christina Ricci. Left to her own devices after boyfriend Ronnie (Justin Timberlake) heads off to Iraq, notorious town pump Rae (Ricci) finds herself powerless to repress her nymphomaniacal itch, temporarily satiating her carnal appetites with anyone who has a pulse and an...itch. Sporting filthy blond hair, a body that’s all sharp, skinny angles, and often nothing more than a teensy Confederate Flag-adorned cut-off top and white panties, Ricci embodies Rae with debased fierceness, her giant eyes radiating a voracious, self-destructive, animalistic sexual hunger. She’s a b**** in perpetual heat, so, naturally, after being beaten and left for dead on the side of the road, she’s discovered by a churchgoing farmer and former blues singer named Lazarus (Samuel L. Jackson) who, horrified by the girl’s condition—and, after she awakens, her unbridled libidinous cravings—chains her to his radiator like a dog in need of housetraining so as to cure her of her wickedness. It’s slavery role-reversal with a porno twist, featuring a grizzled, scripture-quoting African-American as plantation massa, and a feisty, semi-nude white girl as his captive, the latter a feral creature apt to snatch and swallow up any unsuspecting virgin visitors to her new abode. (Which, indeed happens.) In this contentious arrangement, Rae, turned rotten by childhood abuse from one of Mom’s (played brilliantly by Kim Richards, former Disney star, last seen in 1985's Tiff Turf. She sold her soul to the Bravo/Real Housewives franchise) boyfriends, gets a caring but stern father figure; Lazarus, still bitter over his cheating (though it's debatable) wife’s desertion with his brother, gets someone at whom he can direct both his anger and his Christian benevolence. Brewer, meanwhile, initially treats his scenario as a vehicle for sleazily amusing and erotic kicks. Lazarus’s name is a tip-off to his role as an agent of Rae’s—and, via their chaste relationship, his own—resurrection, and the crudity of the bibilical reference is indicative of Black Snake Moan’s charm-through-rawness, which permeates everything from Rae crawling like a dog across Lazarus’s living room floorboards, to her wrapping herself in chains (as one would do with a blanket or pillow) on a couch as a means of staving off her relentlessly impure thoughts. Yet despite the fact that the rowdy narrative itself is composed of spit, sweat, writhing, weeping, growling, and grinding, the film nonetheless treats the emotions of its characters and situations with surprising seriousness, thereby bringing touching tenderness to its odd couple’s gentle embrace after Lazarus strums a song for Rae, and palpable heat to Rae’s euphoric dance at Lazarus’s bruising, blistering comeback show. Intimately familiar with his milieu, Brewer doesn’t strain to oversell his setting’s dusty, sticky, so-hot-you-only-need-wear-a-wife-beater atmosphere - the cinematography, courtesy of Amelia Vincent (who shot the hoo-doo classic, Eve's Bayou (1997) is excellent - you can feel the oppressive heat. Since Rae and Lazarus’s relationship is, at heart, a dual exorcism, the story is forced—to its detriment—to progress past its electric, incendiary girl-in-chains middle act and toward a wrap-up that’s light on out-there material and heavy on heartwarming healing (however ambiguous). Yet what eventually gives heartrending intensity to Rae and Lazarus’s spiritual journey from the dark, stank, STD-infected bowels of individual h*ll to the sunshiny warmth of mutual renewal is the filmmaker’s apparent distrust of his upbeat conclusion, his final scene casting ambiguous light on the attainability of sustained salvation. Brewer’s prior film may have argued that it’s hard in the South for a p*mp, but with Black Snake Moan, he confirms that what’s even harder is finding peace with one’s own inner demons. And what a soundtrack! ASIN#B000L211NC (CD or Prime Music). Amazing. The film is scored by Scott Bomar, who recently scored the recent Eddie Murphy comeback and Rudy Ray Moore biopic. He's worked with everyone from Al Green to Cyndi Lauper. Opening Theme (Scott Bomar) Scott Bomar: Ain't But One Kind Of Blues Son House: Just Like A Bird Without A Feather Samuel L Jackson: When The Lights Go Out The Black Keys: Standing In My Doorway Crying Jesse Mae Hemphill: Chicken Heads Bobby Rush: Black Snake Moan Samuel L Jackson: Morning Train Precious Bryant: The Losing Kind John Doe: Lord Have Mercy On Me Outragious Cherry: Ronnie and Rae's Theme Scott Bomar: The Chain Scott Bomar: Alice Mae Samuel L Jackson: Stack-O-Lee Samuel L Jackson: Old Black Mattie R.L. Burnside: That's Where The Blues Started Son House: Mean Ol' Wind Died Down North Mississippi Allstars Bluray Extras: Audio Commentary by the Writer/Director Craig Brewer, who previously helmed the okay Hustle and Flow. This is actually one of the most interesting Commentaries that I have come across recently, Brewer is a captivating narrator who provides just the right mix of background into character/story, and anecdotes about the production itself. The best bits are the personal bits, where he talks about Jackson's own ideas for the movie, his own observations on real-life situations and the production antics. If you like the movie then you have to sit down for this commentary, it is well worth listening to. Conflicted: The Making of Black Snake Moan is nearly half an hour in length and takes an in-depth look at this production, with comments from the crew: the writer, director, the composer and the producers (the late John Singleton amongst them), all talking about the almost fantastical movie that they were trying to create, and how they set about forging it. There is plenty of behind the scenes footage injected it - far more than there is final film shots - and the discussions over the blues roots, the sexual themes and the characters depicted are quite interesting. Jackson, Timberlake and Ricci provide on-set interviews, offering their viewpoints as well, and this is quite a refreshingly honest, down-to-earth Documentary that never seems fluffy. Rooted in the Blues takes out twelve minutes to look specifically at the soundtrack that they created for this movie, the blues artists that they put together and the music that they wanted to produce. There is plenty of Behind the Scenes footage, as well as contributions from most of those seen on the previous Making-Of and this makes for a nice companion Featurette. The Black Snake Moan Featurette takes a ten-minute specific look at the Black Snake Moan song that is brought to life halfway through the movie and how they created their perfect rendition of it. There are also 6 Deleted Scenes, all presented in glorious High Definition. Totalling nearly fifteen minutes of cut footage (all with optional Commentary by the Director explaining why they were excised), they vary from scene extensions (Ricci's scene in the bathtub with more religious overtones, to advice that Lazarus seeks from his friends, to flashbacks to how Rae met her true love, it is nice to have them included here, and looking especially good in High Definition. Finally there's the Theatrical Trailer to round off the disc.