3/1/2007
I went to a screening of "Black
Snake Moan" last week, the new film from "Hustle and
Flow" director Craig Brewer. A friend was supposed to join
me, but he fell ill at the last second and opted to skip it (presumably
he's not suffering from the same "sickness" that afflicts
Christina Ricci's character in "BSM," although there's
no guarantee he's not currently chained to a radiator in some
strange man's house). After the film, I was tempted to call his
sudden illness the kindest stroke of luck he'll receive this
year, until I remembered that, largely due to an infatuation
with Ms. Ricci, this friend will still end up seeing "Black
Snake Moan." Upon further review, I don't know anyone unluckier
than poor Ryan.
Instead of trying to find a replacement to attend
the screening with me, which would've been my wife had she not
been working (and may have lead to a divorce), I decided to go
it alone. I arrived at Hollywood's Arclight Theaters 20 minutes
before show time and quickly discovered that a local dance/R&B/Hip-Hop
radio station was hosting the screening. I took a seat in one
of the two roped off rows reserved for press and stared directly
in front of me at a large speaker, placed in front of the movie
screen, that was blaring some song I'd never heard. With the
theater only about half full, a young man from the radio station
grabbed a microphone and attempted to rile the crowd up with
the promise of t-shirts, posters and other swag to whoever could
be the most raucous audience members. Some of the crowd responded
to the challenge, and soon t-shirts were flying through the air
into the awaiting arms of various people who love free stuff
(don't we all?). The pre-movie festivities reached its apex when
the host broke into an impromptu dance to the delight of…uhhhhh…someone.
The radio station people cleared out
and more viewers filed into the theater, gradually filling it
to capacity. The reserved rows were relatively empty, so eventually
non-press people sat amongst us, including a man next to me who
appeared to have been dragged there by his girlfriend (or maybe
it was is his wife, though they looked a little young to be married).
It would turn out, judging by his restless body language and
the fact he checked his watch approximately 20 times in the movie's
final half hour, this guy might have been the only person in
attendance who liked "Black Snake Moan" less than me.
Maybe.
I'm sure you've seen an ad or two (or
50) for the movie. Ricci plays a poor Southern nymphomaniac whose
promiscuity reaches new heights when her boyfriend (played by
Justin Timberlake of Color Me Badd fame) leaves for Army duty.
Ricci prowls her hometown's dirt roads clad alluringly in Daisy
Dukes (but skimpier) and tiny t-shirts that reveal an alarmingly
malnourished stomach. She's there for any man's taking until
one of Justin CMB's friends smacks her around after she observes
that his manhood is not even half the size of a local African-American
drug dealer/pimp who frequently scratches her itch. Say what
you will about Brewer, but he manages to fulfill three racial
stereotypes in one character! How's that for economy? But back
to the story…Ricci is left bruised, bloodied and unconscious
on the side of the road.
Lazarus (played by Samuel L Jackson of
"Loaded Weapon 1" fame), a farmer whose wife recently
left him to be with, of all people, his brother, finds Ricci,
nurses her back to health, and chains the young lady (at this
time she's covered in only one of those tiny t-shirts and panties)
to a radiator in order to cure the "sickness." Lazarus
learns about the "sickness" when the aforementioned
well-endowed, drug-dealing pimp provides a clinical diagnosis
of Ricci's condition in the corner of a pool hall. Late in the
movie, we find out the root of the "sickness," which,
if you've seen even one other movie featuring this sort of masochistic
character, you can probably deduce before finishing this paragraph.
Oh yeah, Lazarus is also a blues guitarist who's reluctant to
play these days...but if he can cure Ricci of the "sickness"
then anything might be possible. Perhaps even every existing
copy of "The Man" can be destroyed.
In "Hustle and Flow," Brewer taught
us that it was hard out here for a pimp, a valuable lesson I
won't soon forget. I owe a great deal to Brewer since I had weighed
the pros and cons of an entry-level position in the field just
prior to seeing the film. In "Black Snake Moan," he
teaches us something even more important. He instructs us how
to cure the "sickness." Our previous Brewer hero was
a dickhead low rent pimp turned dickhead rap star, and this time
it's a farmer who receives critical medical information from
a drug dealer/pimp/pool hall therapist, which leads him to hold
a mostly naked girl hostage, shackled to his radiator. Is it
too late to start a "Free Gary Heidnick!" campaign?
The answer is yes; he was executed in 1999. Where were you then,
Craig Brewer?
Beyond everything mentioned above, the
movie's biggest failing has to be how interminable it is. "Black
Snake Moan" is probably the most painful experience I've
had in a movie theater in the past year. Sure, I've seen worse
films, but they at least had the courtesy to be shorter. "BSM"
runs nearly two hours, but feels twice that length. The only
backhanded compliment I can pay the film is that while it's never
interesting, it's not really boring, either. In fact, boredom
would've been preferred, as it may have allowed me to drift off
to sleep for a bit. But nope, the movie was just engaging enough
to keep me awake, which is another reason I resent it. I know,
I know, "why didn't you leave?" Well, my most glaring
bad habit is that I never walk out of movies…unless it's
an extreme circumstance. Like when I feel a sudden twinge of
the "sickness."
It's been brought to my attention that
Richard Roeper and his guest critic, "Jersey Girl"
auteur Kevin Smith, raved about "BSM" on their television
show. I understand Smith's position. It's definitely not every
day he gets a nationally televised forum to talk about a movie
bad enough to make his own look good by comparison, but I wonder
where Roeper is coming from. I searched out a few online reviews,
and much to my surprise, the film's early Tomatometer rating
is high. One critic called the film "entertaining."
I feel the exact opposite, but it isn't an opinion you can really
argue. Another critic claimed that "BSM" answers all
the naysayers who bashed "Hustle and Flow's" misogyny.
Let's see, this movie is about a weak-willed, hedonistic young
woman headed down a road to self-destruction until an older man
imprisons her in his home thus saving her from herself. Yup,
leave it to Craig "Gloria Steinem" Brewer to keep pushing
women's rights forward.
It's not my place to tell you how to
spend your time and money, so go ahead, be like Ryan and see
"BSM" if you'd like. While you're at it, stay for "Music
and Lyrics" or "The Number 23" afterwards, then
go home and have your own personal "Grey's Anatomy"
marathon while you eat a hot dog and drink warm Bud Light. You'll
be the anti-Warren. And given that I, on the other hand, will
be sitting in front of my computer, watching the "Norbit"
trailer for the 800th time, that may not be a bad thing.
"RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!"
It never gets old, I tell 'ya. It never
gets old.
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