It survives on its versatile leads, its smoky cinematography (courtesy of Dick Pope) and its seductive musical performances, which run from gospel to jazz to blues to the to the electrifying kick-start of early rock 'n' roll.

John Sayles is back in the saddle with another film in his regional cinema series

like a rich and complex novel rendered as a visual experience that is equally rich and as unabashedly poetic in its images as Sayles is with his metaphors

Even more than the music in this musically rich picture, the great pleasure of Honeydripper is in watching Danny Glover as Tyrone Purvis, the club owner.

Honeydripper is a pleasant enough story, but when Sayles is involved, it is a shock to feel so little.

With its cotton-field locations, diddley-bo props and scripted nods toward blues history and mythology, 'Honeydripper' somehow feels touristy rather than authentic -- as if it were a product of research rather than passion.

John Sayles returns with another literate, professional, yet highly enjoyable film.

Although Honeydripper won a screenplay award at the San Sebastián Film Festival, it's not Sayles' strongest work. Part of the problem is that it keeps building to a rock-'n'-roll payoff that never quite arrives.

With each turn of events being telegraphed well in advance, there are no surprises in Sayles' script. The cast, however, headed by Glover's complex portrait of a man plagued by his past, is fresh enough to cover the stale plot mechanics.

Trudging nobly under a mantle of impeccably earnest intentions and a fussy, too-quaint-by-half production design, Honeydripper lags and drags to its utterly predictable end. There's not a spark of spontaneity or soul about it.