Running time: 115 minutes
Starring: Samuel L Jackson, Christina Ricci, Justin Timberlake, John Cothan Jr., S. Epatha Merkerson
Rating 5 out of 10
Unlike Samuel L. Jackson's last film, and despite its title, there are no snakes here. Certainly not of the reptilian nature, though there's plenty of the human variety. And most of them have had their way with Rae (Christina Ricci), who encourages them both with her provocative dress sense and a willing nature that stems from her sexually abusive father. Her redemption is the subject of the ineffectual Black Snake Moan.
BSM captures the sweat and simplicity of the South, but never successfully gets to the core of the people that inhabit it, in particular the tormented Rae and the noble but irascible Lazarus (Jackson). Neither comes across as authentic, appearing instead as unconvincing vehicles for an even more improbable storyline.
Written and directed by Craig Brewer, BSM shares the same sense of trying too hard that pervaded Brewer's earlier Hustle & Flow. It desperately wants to be cool and edgy, but lacks the originality and daring to pull it off. It also desperately wants to be liked, which explains its soft underbelly. Without a strong identity or conviction, BSM falls into that cavernous black hole that sucks in ill-defined mediocrity, never to be seen again.
When Rae's boyfriend Ronnie (a flimsy Justin Timberlake) leaves to join the army, she's unable to cope and reverts to her familiar self-destructive behaviour of getting wasted on drink and drugs, and opening her legs for any and everyone. One charmer beats her up and leaves her for dead on the side of the road where she's discovered by Laz, who is trying to get his life back on track after his wife left him for his brother.
Laz nurses her back to health, but after discovering her wayward tendencies, he takes it upon himself to save her. To prevent her going back to her old ways, he decides to chain her up in his home. Initially hostile towards Laz, she slowly warms to the one man who shows her kindness and doesn't take advantage of her. In time the two form an unlikely but tender relationship, with the blues-loving, guitar-playing Laz assuming a paternal role.
Ricci's one-time successful film career has faltered of late, and this performance will do little to reverse the trend. She plays Rae at a shrill tone, exploiting all her personality problems for their maximum drama and never allowing a glimpse of who lies behind the hysterics. Jackson is more effective, even managing to slip in his trademark "motherfuckin'." His rasping singing provides the best moments to a film that doesn't so much leave you feeling blue as indifferent.
Kevin Murphy
BSM captures the sweat and simplicity of the South, but never successfully gets to the core of the people that inhabit it, in particular the tormented Rae and the noble but irascible Lazarus (Jackson). Neither comes across as authentic, appearing instead as unconvincing vehicles for an even more improbable storyline.
Written and directed by Craig Brewer, BSM shares the same sense of trying too hard that pervaded Brewer's earlier Hustle & Flow. It desperately wants to be cool and edgy, but lacks the originality and daring to pull it off. It also desperately wants to be liked, which explains its soft underbelly. Without a strong identity or conviction, BSM falls into that cavernous black hole that sucks in ill-defined mediocrity, never to be seen again.
When Rae's boyfriend Ronnie (a flimsy Justin Timberlake) leaves to join the army, she's unable to cope and reverts to her familiar self-destructive behaviour of getting wasted on drink and drugs, and opening her legs for any and everyone. One charmer beats her up and leaves her for dead on the side of the road where she's discovered by Laz, who is trying to get his life back on track after his wife left him for his brother.
Laz nurses her back to health, but after discovering her wayward tendencies, he takes it upon himself to save her. To prevent her going back to her old ways, he decides to chain her up in his home. Initially hostile towards Laz, she slowly warms to the one man who shows her kindness and doesn't take advantage of her. In time the two form an unlikely but tender relationship, with the blues-loving, guitar-playing Laz assuming a paternal role.
Ricci's one-time successful film career has faltered of late, and this performance will do little to reverse the trend. She plays Rae at a shrill tone, exploiting all her personality problems for their maximum drama and never allowing a glimpse of who lies behind the hysterics. Jackson is more effective, even managing to slip in his trademark "motherfuckin'." His rasping singing provides the best moments to a film that doesn't so much leave you feeling blue as indifferent.
Kevin Murphy
