I like porn. Some might say I love porn. Others might say I am addicted to porn. And some learnéd individuals might even say that my porn addiction is all-consuming and that I need a hobby or to learn how to interact socially with other human beings. In short, I am a fan of the naked ladies.
My dream in life is to lock Jennifer Love Hewitt in a cage in my basement. My favourite episode of Buffy is “Consequences,” where Angel chains Faith to a wall in his basement. In short, being that I possess none of the qualities that ladies find attractive, my ideal sexy lady is one who cannot run away.
It stands to reason that with my fondness for porn, half naked ladies, and sexy ladies chained to various objects, I would love Black Snake Moan. Sadly, we live in a world bereft of reason. I did not like Black Snake Moan. It is a half-assed mockery of everything I hold dear.
In Black Snake Moan, Christina Ricci plays a small town nymphomaniac. Her life consists of getting wasted and having sex. One night, after her boyfriend (Justin Timberlake) ships out with the National Guard, she gets really wasted, plays topless football, has sex, and then gets the shit beat out of her and is left on the side of the road. The next morning, Sam Jackson, whose wife just ran off with his brother, finds Ricci lying in the road. Wanting to help her he takes her back to his nearby farm. After asking around town, Jackson learns that Ricci is a nympho, so he decides to “cure” her evil ways by chaining her to his radiator. Basically, half the movie consists of a half-naked Christina Ricci getting boned or struggling against the chain. Sounds like a kickass flick, right? Wrong. Director Craig Brewer ruins what could be an enjoyable exploitation film by burdening the thin plot with a litany of “issue” clichés.
So, what exactly is Black Snake Moan about? Is it a ignorantly misogynistic excuse for Christina Ricci to flash her titties? Is it an emotional drama about the effects of childhood sexual abuse? Is it about redemption through religion? Or redemption through the blues?
And which character is the focus of the movie? Is it about Christina Ricci trying to become something more than a walking vagina? Is it about Sam Jackson rediscovering his faith and his music, all while wooing the mail lady from Pee-Wee’s Playhouse? And why is Justin Timberlake such a pussy? These are all questions that are raised by Black Snake Moan, but Black Snake Moan is not a very thoughtful movie. It’s two hours of Christina Ricci running around in her underpants.
Black Snake Moan is nothing but a mediocre titty flick with aspirations of being some kind of serious character drama. It is a mediocre titty flick without all the things that make mediocre titty flicks so damn enjoyable. It’s Party Camp without the sophomoric sex jokes or the dynamic talents of Jewel Shepard. It’s Not of This Earth, minus the cheesy sci-fi violence and the lovely Miss Traci Lords. Even worse, it’s a mediocre titty starring a chick who’s had a breast reduction. That’s not how titty flicks are supposed to work.
Now, I know some of you will be saying, “But Shawn, Christina is so tiny, her titties would have given her back pains, like Punky Brewster.” Back pains? I get back pains from just thinking about a sexy lady willingly reducing her Morrissey-given titties. It feels like getting kicked in the back by a centaur. Not a horse. Not a mule. Not even a mountain goat. A fucking centaur. The pain that breast reductions cause me is so intense, it could only be metaphorically inflicted by a mythical creature.
Despite whatever desire you might have to see Christina Ricci’s titties, despite whatever love you have for the acting talents of Justin Timberlake, despite whatever fondness you might have for the Gibson ES-335 guitar, you should not watch Black Snake Moan. It is a disappointing waste of two hours. And really, for a movie that features a half-naked nymphomaniac, there’s really not a whole lot of nudity. It’s not worth it as a blues movie. It’s not worth it as a drama. And it’s not worth it as a titty movie. In short, Black Snake Moan is worthless. On my scale of one to five tiny heads of Sergei Eisenstein, I give Black Snake Moan the dread Evil Tiny Head of Sergei Eisenstein.
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