craig brewer's BLACK SNAKE MOAN (2007)

Sam Jackson has fallen prey to an unfortunate curse over the past few years: his reputation as a reliable, inimitable performer has led to a string of lazily conceived and written roles that rely on him to do all of the heavy lifting. nevermind that, given the right material, he's one of our great actors - just throw a little extra profanity in the script and start shooting. whether it's Snakes On A Plane, XXX, or even a Star Wars prequel, we aren't thinking about Sam Jackson's character. we're just thinking about Sam Jackson.

thankfully, Craig Brewer's vibrant, dusty Black Snake Moan temporarily lifts the curse, giving Jackson a role that caters to his strengths as an actor rather than a Badass. though the provocative ad campaign suggests pulpy exploitation, the film is really a story of sin, fatherhood, and the blues, with Jackson at the center as Lazarus, a jilted Southern farmer who decides to take in a battered local harlot and cure her of her "wickedness." not that Lazarus is a prude, or a zealot; in fact, much of the film's beauty stems from his complicated, obscured motivations. his Christianity runs deep but stays deep, and he pines for his two-timing wife and the child she never let into the world. most of all, though, he exhibits a deep understanding of sin - not as an arbitrary religious concept, but as one of the forces that turns the world.

for all of these reasons and more, Lazarus decides to chain Rae (a waifish Christina Ricci) to his radiator in order to save her from her own demons, which she has neither the wisdom nor the inclination to bottle. this central plot point is, of course, loaded both racially and sexually, but the script treads surprisingly lightly while never chickening out. there is a grimy sensuality to much of the film (mostly due to Ricci's half-clad fearlessness), but it is very rarely sexy; Brewer stays true to his themes by steering clear of titillation where lesser talents would have their cake and screw it too. indeed, the strange, tense chemistry between the Rare and Lazarus eventually (and organically) defuses into a warmly rendered father/daughter dynamic on which the remainder of the film coasts to a refreshingly hopeful denouement, suggesting that even god's most flawed children are entitled to a shot at happiness.

Black Snake Moan shares two key elements with Hustle & Flow, Brewer's previous feature, that seem to define his sensibilities as a filmmaker. the first is the South, so rarely presented onscreen with a depth and regard befitting the heart and soul of true American cultural tradition. the second, and more profound, is music: Hustle & Flow tracked the struggle of a lowlife pimp who finds sadly tentative redemption in the arms of crunk rap, allowing him to redefine himself through the creative process, while Black Snake Moan concerns itself with the Blues, both as musical expression and an ineffable state of mind. the score and soundtrack bestow the film with considerable texture, but it's Lazarus' own blues that stay with the viewer - a further credit to Jackson's layered performance. that his voice doesn't necessarily fit with the bluesman ideal (aside from a sublimely menacing rendition of "Stagger Lee") seems immaterial when it emerges from Lazarus' troubled mouth, and two of the film's most exhilirating sequences respectively embody a tension and release that burrows to the heart of the narrative. in one, Rae clings tightly to Lazarus' leg as he drowns out a thunderstorm with the harrowing title track; in the other, Lazarus returns triumphantly to the juke joint he once haunted and plays to an audience ecstatic in the proposition of transforming his sorrows into the joy of shared expression. the music makes clear what the film sometimes fails to: in the absence of true happiness, we can find relief in art and expression, and the best blues are blues shared.