Snatch. (2000)

You know how every once in a while there comes a movie that tries to mix style and substance and tries to make a big deal about it? That's probably a generalization, but I'm referring to such recent mainstream movies as "Smokin' Aces" and "Sin City," in which quirky characters and heavy dialogue are mixed with crazy camera techniques and cool soundtracks, usually to the delight of the young and young at heart worldwide. They've been called "MTV-style," "neo-noir," "video games",and "Tarantino-esque," among other things, but none of those actually explain what the movies are.

And the problem with that kind of movie is that recently, it hasn't worked. The story is almost always the first thing that's sacrificed, for the sake of some nifty imagery that never really sticks with you once you're done watching, or even if you are watching. (The primary exception to this is "GoodFellas," which is a movie that, over a decade later, manages to be just as entertaining, groundbreaking, and eye-orgasm inducing as when first released.) I can't say how many movies I've sat through, with or without friends, that I could describe as being utterly neutral to my emotions: it's there, I'm seeing it, but I just can't feel it at all. (Ahem, "300.")

Now, as for "Snatch"--it most definitely worked for me. In fact, it works so well that I'm amazed the directors of the aforementioned movies haven't taken its perceivable advice. It's hard for me to say why I liked it, but maybe I can suggest a few things.

For one thing, and perhaps the movie's most important success, is that the majority of the soundtrack cues in this movie are perfect. It's not often that a song and an image are so well edited that you really feel like a part of the scene, but this movie does it on a handful of occasions, notably in a few of Brad Pitt's scenes, where his mumbling gypsy-boxer is let loose to kick some ass. Pitt isn't particularly great in this movie; he doesn't do as much as you would expect him to, but he fits the part amiably, as do the rest of the cast.

It's nice to see Jason Statham not playing the badass action hero once again, even though he has his one particular scene...in fact, pretty much everyone in this movie has their one particular scene, but Dennis Farina and Alan Ford have perhaps the most ridiculous performances of all. "Snatch" is also a very funny film, in that its visual plot twists are well placed, and thankfully it doesn't get too loony for its own sake of plausible entertainment.

I'm typing this review late at night, and I better go to sleep, so I will say that unfortunately the movie ends too quickly, and by the end credits we realize that "Snatch" can only exist in its self-contained world, as fun and bloody and pointless as it really is. But all movies, good or bad, are in and of themselves, and knowing that they can be revisited more than once can be a reassuring thing. All the other guys can have their "300" and eat it too, but the rest of us will still have our "Snatch."

Grade: A-

Black Snake Moan (2007)

Craig Brewer's sophomore effort shoves its themes in your face in the first scene. First, there's black-and-white footage of a blues singer explaining how blues and love are intertwined. Then it blacks out, heavy blues starts to play, and it cuts to Justin Timberlake fucking the shit out of a startlingly bare-breasted Christina Ricci.

It's certainly one way to start a movie, and it's what I would expect from Brewer, one of today's most promising new directors, who began his first film (the excellent "Hustle and Flow") in just as eye-opening a way. But I did get the feeling that most of the audience already got what they came for.

If "Flow" was the ultimate hip-hop movie--deconstructing the craft while telling a convincing story of a pimp's rise to fame--then "Black Snake Moan" certainly doesn't live up to those standards. By no means is it a bad movie; it's just never clear on what sort of movie it wants to be. It's not an homage to 70's exploitation films, as the posters would lead you to believe; nor is it a sex romp with dirty Southern jokes. It's more of a pseudo-"born-again"-Christian-sex-anxiety-tale, yet with a heart. And if that makes absolutely no sense, then I don't know what else to tell you.

The original reason for me wanting to see this movie (as well as its primary selling point), aside from being a fan of "Hustle and Flow", was the concept: how the hell could they get away with making a movie about chaining a girl to a radiator? But that aspect of the story, when viewed as a part of the whole movie, is more of a comedic device, which, surprisingly, is thrown away more easily than it's brought in. The movie has a number of small plot holes--or, rather, character inconsistencies--that I don't feel are worth getting into. We already know that it's not a perfect movie--so let's talk about the acting.

Samuel L. Jackson probably enjoys his acting career more than anyone else his age, and he shows it. His breakthrough role in "Pulp Fiction" jumpstarted a cult following of crazy whiteboys (the ones who made that 30 seconds of "Snakes on a Plane" worth seeing), who are always searching for one of those classically delivered phrases, many of which he echoes here, such as "bad motherfucker". This role doesn't do anything new for him, apart from proving his worth as a blues singer.

Christina Ricci--probably the main reason to go out and see this movie, if anything. I always find it fascinating to see actresses play these types of roles, where either they lose their minds completely, or their clothes, and at the same time looking as dolled-up as possible. The fantastic opening credits sequence (another one of Brewer's talents), in which the camera lingers on Ricci's swaying hips in a jean miniskirt as she trots along the freeway, has a great "fuck authority" image that needs to be seen to be believed.

Another notable sequence is the supposedly "much-talked-about" trashing scene, which, if it has, I never heard anything about. Basically it consists of Samuel L. Jackson playing blues to a full crowd at the local bar, as Ricci bumps and grinds in slow-motion along the dance floor with numerous partners, her dirty-blonde hair stuck to the front of her sweaty, dirty face. It's almost scary to watch, since by this point (SPOILERS AHEAD) we would have assumed that Ricci was cleansed of her freaky nymphomaniac doings (another plot hole). (SPOILERS FINISHED) Apparently, this is different, yet it's ultimately the dirtiest, and most memorable, scene of the film.

One problem that a lot of people have had with Ricci in the past (and not that she tends to play white-trash roles--this time to the extreme, no less) is that she's always exposed her giant forehead, which gives her a strangely youthful look, her huge eyes and weird mouth popping out at you. Thankfully, "Black Snake Moan" fixes that problem, as her hair is almost always disheveled in front of her.

Justin Timberlake is woefully miscast as Ricci's boyfriend, an anxiety-ridden yet ultimately hopeful guy who enlists for the military. It's hard to watch a pop star/sex icon play a flawed character. His subplot is never believable, and his character never reaches a satisfying ending.

It's ultimately a testament to Brewer's craft that the best scenes in "Black Snake Moan" are the ones that play like the first, with blues and sex mixed to create some extremely provocative imagery--and ultimately, those two elements are what save the characters. But it's scenes like those that made me think of what the movie could have been, rather than what it already is. The majority of the humor comes from people cursing each other out, which is always fun, but that's not good enough, coming from a director who's already proved that he can put together something much more concise, resonating, and heartwarming.

But honestly, it's good enough, and as the first movie I've seen in 2007, it's just an inkling of things to come.

Grade: B-