'Da Sweet Blood of Jesus' Is Spike Lee at His Craziest, and It's Worth Seeing

Da Sweet Blood of Jesus finds legendary director Spike Lee at his most unhinged. The new film is based on Bill Gunn's classic 70s vampire flick Ganja and Hess, and like the original, it follows the story of two lovers whose thirst for blood serves as a broader metaphor for addiction.

The opening credits proudly announce the film as "An Official Spike Lee Joint." Followers of Lee know that he usually uses the credit, "A Spike Lee Joint." The first time he didn't was with 2013's critically-panned Oldboy, which Lee felt was butchered in the studio's theatrical cut. For that movie, he went with the sheepish "A Spike Lee Film." So, "An Official Spike Lee Joint" feels like a declaration of independence, especially considering this is the filmmaker's first crowdfunded venture. Free of studio meddling, Lee gets to wallow in the excessive violence and comedy typical of an old grindhouse film.

Despite Da Sweet Blood of Jesus feeling pretty loose, Lee follows the blueprint ofGanja and Hess, even recreating some scenes shot-for-shot. Once again, Hess (Stephen Tyrone Williams) and Ganja (Zaraah Abrahams) are the leads. Hess is a wealthy loner who resides in Martha's Vineyard. At the beginning of the film, he's studying the rituals and beliefs of the Ashanti people when he gets stabbed with a ceremonial dagger wielded by his crestfallen research assistant, who offs himself shortly thereafter. Hess wakes up from the attack as an immortal thirsty for blood. Ganja, the widow of Hess's dead assistant, shows up later looking for her man, though she's curiously indifferent to her husband's whereabouts. She only takes in the full gravity of the situation after she finds his severed head stuffed in a freezer.

Before setting the vampirism in motion, the dearly departed strikes up a debate with Hess. America is a "blood society," our man offers, ergo vampires are an inevitability. This line of thinking suggests that we not only tolerate, but reward all kinds of violence, and the grimmest acts in Da Sweet Blood of Jesus are presented in a matter-of-fact style in keeping with this jaded perspective. The vampirism-as-addiction bent—which Hess will later use to justify his lifestyle—isn't exactly unprecedented. But it does provide a suitable launching pad for the Lee to riff on genre conventions.

Lee cares little for traditional vampire tropes, using an intentionally loose mythos for his blood-sucking protagonists and their kin. Ganja and Hess don't explode when they're exposed to direct sunlight, and if their live-in cook ever puts garlic in their food, they don't seem to mind. But Hess does receive compliments for his carefully curated collection of African art by houseguests before excusing himself to the wine cellar where he keeps his blood supply. And Ganja takes every opportunity to give Hess's manservant a hard time.

As a couple, they deserve each other, united by a certain strand of selfishness and a number of carnal encounters. Da Sweet Blood of Jesus is fervently sexual, as vampire movies tend to be. Hess's victims are all women, and before drinking their blood he takes them to bed, one act flowing into the other.

Not to take anything away from Lee, but the most memorable moment in Da Sweet Blood of Jesus comes from the soundtrack. Buffalo Black's "Enter the Void (Black Hole)" is a singularly entrancing piece of ambient hip-hop that conveys the two leads' freewheeling headspace more effectively than anything else, so much so that it could have served as a recurring musical cue. The original, piano-heavy score by Bruce Hornsby, meanwhile, grows increasingly incongruous with what's happening onscreen—and not always in a way that feels like an intentional juxtaposition.

Lee's freedom here undoubtedly makes this a better movie. But a number of scenes (especially the most violent and sexual ones) might have benefited from a bit of restraint. Lee directs this movie like he's a kid in a candy store when he should be running the place. But Da Sweet Blood of Jesus does have an undeniable spark to it all the same, a sense of urgency that makes it feel more vital and alive than the undead lovers struggling with life after death.

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