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If it’s hard for a pimp, imagine what Christina Ricci had to go through in Black Snake Moan, Craig Brewer’s follow-up to Hustle & Flow. Almost unrecognizably gaunt, Ricci, 27, burns up the screen as Rae, a Tennessee nympho found half dead on the side of a back road by Lazarus (Samuel L. Jackson), who tries to exorcise his charge’s demons by chaining her to his radiator. Calling from Los Angeles, Ricci spoke to TONY about sexual healing.
Was there ever a moment while reading the script when you thought, This is just too crazy?
No, I really didn’t. I’ve done a lot of research on the effects of sexual abuse on young women; often, when they grow up and get no treatment, they develop some sort of sexual dysfunction. Usually they’re just really promiscuous and have no regard for their bodies. So [the script] didn’t seem shocking, because it seemed really honest.
Rae is certainly a strong presence. Was there something liberating about playing such a forceful character?
I would be remiss in not noting that there must be something in my personality that really feels an incredible amount of satisfaction in completely exposing myself—that completely breaks down any inhibitions I might have.
Do you think you were pushed to do that more in Black Snake Moan than in any other roles?
Absolutely. I realized that if there was any sort of self-consciousness or judgment on my part, you would see it. [When I came out of character], I was standing in the bathroom in my underwear and all of a sudden I was like, I was just half naked for three months. Everybody saw my ass. I’ve never really enjoyed the way my ass looked from behind, in panties. I don’t think many women do, so to me it was like waking up after drinking for three months. So I called my sister and she said, “I think it was really good that you did that.” When you’re playing someone like Rae, you have to be immersed in the bubble of their reality.
Your drastic weight loss for the film is almost as notorious as the film itself. Was that your choice, or did Craig Brewer ask you to do it?
I felt that she should look really unhealthy. For the first half of the film, you don’t ever see her eat—all she does is drink and take some drugs. I wanted to show that this is someone who can’t take care of herself. I really wanted her to look incredibly fragile, because I wasn’t going to be giving her an outward, emotional vulnerability.
Was this the most physically demanding role you’ve ever played?
Yeah—I knew that it would be emotionally challenging, but I didn’t know that I’d be running constantly, screaming every day for a week in the hot Mississippi sun, pulling a 40-pound chain around.
What was the most difficult part of understanding Rae’s psychic makeup?
When you see the movie you’re like, Why did she have to do that? After she parts from her boyfriend, the first thing she does is have sex with someone else. You look at her mother, and you realize that not only has she been abused, but she’s also been abandoned. So I tried to understand that, but to not justify too many of her actions.
What I found the most fun about her was the side that Lazarus brings out—seeing that she really is just a little girl. Anyone who suffered that sort of abuse so young—her emotional growth is pretty much stunted. She’s just a kid imitating what she thinks is sexy. All she really wants is the unconditional love of a parent. It’s like the ultimate fantasy movie for girls with daddy complexes, because Lazarus is like the best father ever, you know?
He has some unconventional methods of child-rearing. How do you respond to people who think the movie is racist or sexist?
As far as it being racist, I don’t know that I can really speak to that. I never saw it as racist, but I am not a black person. But as far as being a woman, I don’t think it’s sexist, because it’s honest. Yes, she’s exploited, but she’s exploiting herself. I also think the voice of the film is very brave in saying this is a man who’s directing it, and in one moment he is lustily watching her, and in the next, he’s apologizing for any part he may feel, or any guilt he may feel, in what’s happened to her.