Sam Jackson: Renaissance Man?

Leonardo da Vinci, step aside. The man of this century is Samuel L. Jackson. After a few well-publicized adventures as Jedi, snake tamer, and overall badass motherfucker, we find ole' Sammy in the movie Black Snake Moan, which has one of the more ridiculous plotlines of the recent past. In short, the diminutive and very topless Christina Ricci stars as a nymphomaniac in Deep South Mississippi who passes out in front of Sam Jackson's house and wakes up chained to his radiator, to be cured of her "sickness." Hilarity ensues. But, my dear hearts, that would not be enough to write a trite entry, so I really come to tell you of Sam Jackson and the blues. Imagine any Sam J line from Pulp Fiction. Now imagine that same voice singing in a low growl over blues guitar. It's really magnificent, and some excellent music from the swamp, profane, dirty, and organic. There's a scene of Sam Jackson jamming in a crowded bar that's worth the price of admission alone. What starts as a movie about the lonely life of a nympho is really a vehicle for the musicking debut of Samuel L. Jackson. Who knew?

-Charles