Sinfully Soulful and Heavy

If ever a potential movie must've sounded like it wouldn't work based on reading the script on paper, it would be this one. Here we have what seemingly looks like a lurid and seedy soft-porn s&m flick, complete with the huge in-theatre poster, depicting a near-naked Christina Ricci chained to none other than Mr. Bad Ass MF himself, Samuel Jackson. But let me tell you, if ever a film springs to life on celluloid major big time with soulful power to spare, it's Craig Brewer's redemptive follow-up to Hustle & Flow, Black Snake Moan.

Unashamedly over the top from the get go, this film sucks you in with the opening scenes and proceeds to dig deeper and deeper in with every subsequent frame. It's yer basic story of two deeply damaged characters who find in each other the strength and courage to move on, in more positive ways, with their lives. Been done before, of course, this tale, but as I've always said, it's the manner in which a story is told that gives it heart, depth, meaning and power.

Ricci's damaged-by-childhood-abuse wild-child character Rae and Jackson's equally soulsick musician character Lazarus find each other under desperate circumstances, and Laz takes it upon himself to try to help Rae. This in itself is relatively unique: the idea of a man trying to genuinely help a woman who is in serious pain, rather than trying to take further advantage of her, and we know from the onset that Laz's heart, and the film's heart, is in the right place. The movie at its core is about the redemptive, healing power of love (with music as a very close second), and the film resonates profoundly with this truth - soulfully, artfully and brilliantly.

A major reason the film succeeds so profoundly is because of the fierce, committed performances from Ricci and Jackson. Scenes that would have come off as laughable and pathetic in lesser artists' hands are, instead, powerful as all get-out. In particular, the film's arc scene, in which Jackson sings and plays the song of the title alone in his house, with Ricci, amidst a serious thunderstorm and the abusive demons from Rae's past running amok inside her head, leading her to crawl to Lazarus and cling to his leg, comes off not ridiculous as technically it should, but rather as gut-wrenchingly cathartic.

All the supporting performances are fantastic here too. Justin Timberlake is completely believable as Rae's anxiety-ridden boyfriend Ronnie, and the always-wonderful S. Epatha Merkerson is also perfectly cast as a character who obviously has feelings for Lazarus. John Cothran Jr. is outstanding as well, as Laz's reverend friend R.L. (a nod to blues musician R. L. Burnside, no doubt). Everything works about this movie, let's face it, including the music/soundtrack, which features Burnside, Scott Bomar, Bobby Rush, Son House, and most importantly, Jackson himself, whose fantastic version of Stackolee I am listening to as I compose this review. There's also a really beautiful and moving version of "This Little Light of Mine" featured in the film, sung heart-breakingly tentative and soft by Ricci.

Samuel Jackson has said in recent interviews that he believes his performance in this movie is the best of his career thus far; I could not agree with him more. This is work that he can be monumentally proud of, along with everyone else involved in this audacious, supremely wise and deeply heartfelt motherfucker of a project.