text: In "Black Snake Moan," writer-director Craig Brewer is so obsessed with heavy symbolism that part of me felt like dismissing the entire film as pretentious--a sweltering Southern parable with some oh-so-risky subject matter. The movie also contains a heavy spiritual subtext where religion is being hauled into the picture--again, this is integrated without subtlety. After the darker opening scenes, the film increasingly blunts its edge until the entire production comes off with the artificial quality of a stage play (and I'll admit, the last 15 minutes go way too far into "Happy Ending" territory for my liking). And that's not to mention the archival footage of musician Son House, ruminating on love and death (and heavily foreshadowing things to come, of course). Yet in a strange way, these demerits are also qualities of "Black Snake Moan," the tale of aging Lazarus (Samuel L. Jackson), recently dumped by his wife (for his brother, no less), who comes across near-death nympho Rae (Christina Ricci, easily giving the hottest portrayal of trailer trash on celluloid ever); nursing the girl back to health, he chains her to his radiator to overcome her demons, and hopefully redeem his own fallen self. While there is a definite prurient appeal in watching Ricci fall out of her skimpy outfits, her performance is risky and mature--not a trace of Wednesday Addams to be found, and she easily holds her own with Jackson, who personifies "the blues" in his portrait of a flawed, God-fearing man. While heavy-handed, the scene where Lazarus sings Rae a song in the midst of a lightning storm/blackout is compelling, as is a scene inside a jumping blues club that makes you wish you were there. The setting is strong, and a case can be made for the literal symbolism (the chain, the radiator, the strange blurry man who haunts Rae's libido) being a deliberate outgrowth of superstition and spirituality. And it is the conviction with which this spirituality is played that lends "Black Snake Moan" much of its strength--the committed performances of Jackson and Ricci make this a film that goes from wrenching to uplifting with, well, seamless grace. While Justin Timberlake's jealous lover is a plot contrivance I could have done without, neither he nor the sledgehammer subtlety can keep this from being a fascinatingly meditative film.