Lazarus (Samuel L. Jackson) is bitter. Back in the day he would be the one to get Bojo's Juke Joint shakin' like no tomorrow, his brand of Tennessee Blues guaranteed to break your heart and get their groove-thing out on the dance floor. But that was before his own wife coldly left him for another man, before he gave up on his dreams and became content to sell his home-grown vegetables from the back of his pickup truck.

Rae (Christina Ricci) is a woman possessed. When love of her life Ronnie (Justin Timberlake) ships out to boot camp on his way to Iraq all of the youngster's wild ways come back to the forefront in an orgy of bad behavior cementing her reputation as the town tramp. It's all due to a peculiar anxiety disorder causing her to hitch her lot with the first man who will sleep with her, the abuse and abandonment she suffered as a child materializing within her now adult conduct.

Things change for both the morning Lazarus discovers a half-naked Rae unconscious and beaten to a bloody pulp by the side of the road out in front of his dilapidated home. The middle-aged loner decides to make it his mission to cure this soul of her wicked ways before they can destroy the girl, chaining her to his radiator so she can't escape moralistic tutelage. Together, somehow these two disparate strangers find a way to connect, trust, understanding and even friendship blossoming between them while the binds holding each person slowly dissolve to reveal the real person buried deep within.

If people thought making a movie about a down and dirty pimp was daring, wait until they get a look at writer-director Craig Brewer's follow-up feature Black Snake Moan. It goes without saying that Hustle & Flow pushed the envelope, but this jaw-dropping and audacious drama virtually slashes said envelope to pieces. This one is a stunner, sure to send people out into the streets afterwards arguing in love-it-or-hate-it caterwauls bystanders will be able to hear halfway down the street.

Granted, getting people into the theater to watch a fifty-ish Southern black man take a barely twenty scantily clad white woman into his home only to chain her to a radiator is probably not going to be an easy task. People will look at this film much in the same way they probably did Pedro Almodovar's Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!, completely unsure from the descriptions and from the trailers as to what the heck the filmmaker is trying to do. It is a film designed to both titillate and infuriate, Brewer going out of his way to get both your mind and your heart racing long before you even get the chance to enter the theater.

But for all the unhinged explosiveness of the scenario, what is really going on here is far tamer and socially decent than anyone would probably dare to believe. Behind the sex, drugs and Blues music lays a tale of lost souls trying to recapture their humanity through friendship, intimidation, conversation, arguments, faith, hope, song and mutual forgiveness. The film is as morally conservative as any this side of The Nativity Story, quite an accomplishment considering it's filled to the brim with nudity and unbridled sensuality.

Quite unsurprisingly this isn't going to be everyone's idea of a good time. Black Snake Moan is pretty strong stuff, and much like Hustle & Flow Brewer is completely unafraid to take chances and straddle the line between good taste and bad. However, unlike that film this one doesn’t quite have the strong central arc holding everything together, the parallel lines floating between Rae and Lazarus nowhere near as fascinating as the one stalking DJay in that previous Oscar-winning production.

Yet, what this picture lacks in dramatic grace it certainly makes up for it in audacious chutzpah. More, the actors are across the board stunning, Ricci and Jackson a viscerally pugnacious pair while Timberlake proves his explosive turn in Alpha Dog wasn't a fluke. The supporting cast is equally exceptional, Michael Raymond-James, John Cothran and S. Epatha Merkerson all turning in scene-stealing performances worth watching all on their lonesome.

Once again, Brewer also employs a gritty old school style that's mesmerizing. It all plays like a vintage Warner Bros. Tennessee Williams adaptation, Amelia Vincent (Caveman's Valentine) shooting things with a classical eye reminiscent of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof or Baby Doll. Keith Brian Burns' (Higher Learning) production design crackles with authenticity, while Billy Fox (Hustle & Flow) edits with precision so exact you don't even notice his hand.

And then there is the music. What Hustle & Flow did for rap this one now does for Blues, Scott Bomar engineering songs and composing a score so electric it melts off the screen in sweaty waves of virtuoso authenticity. Jackson sings Lazarus' soulful laments with power so strong it hits the soul like a sledgehammer. The picture is a lyrical aria of unblinking pain and melodious redemption, the whole thing building like a symphony played by a rough hand on a wailing electric guitar.

I can't say I loved this one as much as I did Brewer's debut, and I'd be lying if any one part of this was as truly magnificent as Terrence Howard was in that particular melodrama. But the filmmaker refuses to pull punches and showcases a fearlessness that's refreshing and impressive. More, he makes movies no one else dares to, Black Snake Moan a down and dirty escapade of hope I'd sing songs in praise of any day of the week.

Film Rating: êêê  (out of 4)