Movie Review

Black Snake Moan (2006)
I'm finally going to do it. I'm going to review the movie that most recently dropped my jaw in wordless astonishment until I forgot to pick it up off the floor. I'm full of spoilers, so if you want to see this movie - stop reading.

My best Truly-Bad-Film-buds, Mr. and Mrs. Keysunset, had come over to my house to watch it. Mr. Keysunset and I were particularly keen for a big, greasy helping of Truly Bad Southern Gothic Film with Politically Incorrect Gravy. We loaded Black Snake Moan into the DVD player and took our movie consumption places.

The film opens with archival footage of bluesman Son House telling the camera about what makes the blues the blues. He riffs on his guitar and lectures when he's not singing. Then we get color - the actual film - with myriad scenes of a skeletally-thin Christina Ricci rubbing her "rebel coot" on everything that doesn't run from her. Before you know it we're inexplicably transported back to Son House and his Ken Burns Blues Moment. The whole movie works this way.

"Oh, I get it!" Mr. Keysunset shared. "This is a documentary."

I hate plot summaries, but I have to do the bold stroke version so you'll be able to appreciate what we witnessed. Rae (Christina Ricci) is telling her boyfriend (Justin Timberlake) goodbye with her leg-hug when the actual film starts. He's shipping out for Iraq, but literally before the dust of his bus out of town settles Rae scratches her itchy place again with another fella. I lost count of how many guys she hugs in her special way before she goes after her boyfriend's best friend late in the evening of that same day. The best friend beats her violently and throws her body out of the car in front of the house of bluesman Lazarus (Samuel Jackson).

Lazarus is a God-fearing, broken-hearted man. He wants to cure Rae of her dirty panties and her crop-top. So he chains her to his radiator. I know this set-up sounds priceless. Who could ask for more in an exploitation film? A middle aged black man chains a young, helpless white woman to his radiator. But not for sex. No ma'm! It's for her own good!

The only problem is . . . this isn't an exploitation film. Oh, it starts out as one, but less than halfway through it whips around on us, like the proverbial black snake. We, the Truly Bad Film lover, were all ready for a hot tumble with this film and no regrets. But it turns out . . . this film wants us to fall in love with it and have its baby.

Halfway through the film Lazarus lets Rae off the chain. But she continues to live with him and begins to learn self-respect. A local preacher stops by. Lazarus discovers he has a self-possessed lady-friend who is falling for him. Next thing ya know its a mashup: My Fair Lady and some sappy thing where the embattled couple finally make it together on heart. It's sincere. And sentimental.

Thanks to the Keysunsets for the My Fair Lady insight. Its too true. Rae gets tamed and Laz takes her out to the 'ho down (emphasis on Ho) where Rae proves that she can dance nasty, but not actually do the nasty. As we all know, that's the mark of a true lady!

And then . . . God help me . . . there's a wedding.

Through a series of events I'm too lazy to describe, Rae marries Justin Timberlake, who is exactly as screwed up as her, in a totally different way. Because two people with crippling emotional problems is a party, whereas one is just sad. Or something. Instead of a wedding ring he . . . get this . . . puts a GOLD CHAIN around her waist. Its a symbolic a chastity belt.

Oh the avalanche of Women and Gender Studies degrees this movie will impel! It warms my heart to think of all the young gals bent over their notebooks, hammering out those dissertations condemning patriarchal Lazarus and his old (Testament) school ways. Whole chapters will be written on the cuckolded and emasculated Timberlake character as compared and contrasted with the cuckolded yet Blues-empowered Lazarus.

Yes, people. The Blues will resurrect you. The Blues will restore your virginity so you can wear white to your wedding. The Blues will heal you and make you whole. Black Snake Moan could have merely settled for exploitation. It could have just had fun showing off Rae's boobs and her barely clad pelvic region as she slutted around on her chain. But it goes way beyond that because - even though its sappy it has soul. I loved this Truly Bad blend of excess and heart. And I will watch it again. Ay-men!