If there is a "Scary Movie 5," expect a spoof of "Black Snake Moan."
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| Bruce Talamon Christina Ricci and Samuel L. Jackson: Their spirits strike a similar chord in "Black Snake Moan." Click photo for larger image. 'Black Snake Moan'
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When she first wakes up and discovers she's tethered like a junkyard dog, Jackson's character, Lazarus, says with classic understatement, "I wanted to tell you about that."
Rae (Ricci) had been beaten and tossed out of a truck along a back road when Lazarus found her. He tries to nurse her back to physical and mental health and cure her of "this wickedness," her trampy nature, which has its roots in abuse, not simply amorality.
"I ain't gonna be moved on this," Lazarus insists, his eyes crackling with craziness. But as a preacher friend asks Lazarus, "You outta your [expletive] mind? A half-naked white woman chained up in your house?"
"Black Snake Moan" would be utterly laughable if the lead characters weren't played by actors the caliber of Jackson, made up to look older than his 58 years, and Ricci, a wide-eyed woman-child with insatiable appetites. Even so, the movie is so overwrought -- Justin Timberlake plays Rae's anxiety-plagued boyfriend -- that when it comes out on DVD months from now, you likely will be tempted to provide a running commentary of your own.
Since this is a movie from Craig Brewer, who directed Terrence Howard to an Oscar nomination in "Hustle & Flow," and not a fourth installment of "Saw," Ricci won't be slicing through her midsection in an effort to escape. Lazarus and Rae are two lost souls, abused in different ways, brought together by fate and perhaps holding the key to healing each other.
Lazarus is a former blues musician seething over his wife's infidelity and departure, while Rae's lifeline disappears when boyfriend Ronnie (Timberlake) heads for boot camp.
The blues are to "Black Snake Moan" what rap was to "Hustle & Flow," but Brewer is like a country cook with a heavy hand. Instead of a sprinkling of salt -- or symbolism -- he unscrews the lid and pours it on. Nothing is subtle here, although he knows how to stage abandon when a band is wailing in a juke joint and the sweaty bodies are swaying on the dance floor.
"Black Snake Moan," named for a Blind Lemon Jefferson song, may be set in the present day, but it's like something out of the 1930s, as if these characters existed in a time before anti-anxiety medicine or counselors or Dr. Phil. Watching this movie is like getting lost on a back country road: At a certain point, you keeping going just to see where it ends up.