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celluloid the gift of what the blues looks like today and what W.C. Handy attested. Samuel L. Jackson takes a turn that is popular in movies these days by singing and playing. For once, however, it is believable. His voice is ragged, disparaging, angry, painful and joyous to listen to. His additions to the soundtrack make the film that much more powerful and request for salvation so much more deliverable.

Non-diagetic contributors include Son House, R.L. Burnside, and John Doe, but the real prize is within the wonderful, frightening textures of The Black Keys' "When The Lights Go Out." At a pivotal point of direct conflict, the fierce adrenalized-heartbeat drums kick your chest and Daniel Auerbach proclaims "You know what the sun's all about when the lights go out." And then, the movie really begins.

The beauty in this story is a long way from rolling Southern scenery or pretty young actresses. Its beauty lies in its Gothic character; in it's rolling fugue state and garish cuts and bruises. It lies in the sweat, the tilled earth, dirty t-shirts, sticky hair and gross violation. It lies in the contrapunctus, in the opposition, in the fight, and the devil's music. It lies in diametric opposition to everything everyone ever told you about salvation.

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