2 Dollar Productions

Whether or not someone might care for the new film “Black Snake Moan” can be summed up with their reaction to the following question: Does it seem reasonable to chain up a raging blonde and nubile nymphomaniac to your radiator to cure her of promiscuity?


Some might find the solution funny, outrageous, ridiculous, illegal or maybe all of the above. But that is the overriding premise of the movie, where Samuel L. Jackson and Christina Ricci form an unlikely bond after he finds her beaten and half-naked on the side of the road.


Ricci was in this predicament because she is perpetually in heat, and after her boyfriend (Justin Timberlake) leaves to join the National Guard (but does not vacate their relationship), she barely lets him cross the state lines before seeking out new sexual partners before ultimately getting a ride home from the worst of them.

There’s a murky sort of morality running throughout the film as it casts a peculiar take on redemption and betrayl with a strong streak of spirituality and blues music running amok somewhere in the Deep South.


It’s a testament to Jackson’s unique ability to make nearly any situation seem plausible which keeps “Black Snake Moan” grounded in some sort of reality. He did the same thing last summer in dealing with a plethora of snakes aboard a plane, and few actors working today can do fierce half as well as Jackson as he lets palpable anger seep into his portrayal of an old bluesman whose wife recently left him for his brother.

Sounds like a blues song to me.

Ricci steps up to Jackson’s challenge, however, and gives him an excellent partner to play against as her role was tricky, a part that required understatement despite some fairly lurid acts and challenging wardrobe choices and Ricci nailed it.

Justin Timberlake was actually better than I anticipated as he turned in a solid performance, although I found him more believable in scenes where he was anxious, puking or crying versus others where he got tough and angry, but . . .


The movie’s tone is interesting as it is neither camp nor a heavy drama, but instead, is a strange mixture that was worth paying a matinee price, yet I would probably balk at shelling out for a nighttime show.

Still, “Black Snake Moan” doesn’t overextend itself, clocking in at a lean 96 minutes, and a significant portion of that time is spent “curing” Ricci with the help of a giant steel chain – an attention-grabbing premise if I’ve ever seen one.

Maybe I should start advertising for such a service in Austin because people are always looking for the next big thing in rehab.

I can see it now, forget group sharing circles and yoga and therapy – if you’re a good-looking nymphomaniac looking for a fresh start, just bring a blank check and a giant chain and call me, I’m here to help.

-BDS