Honeydripper is an aptly named film for a story that unfolds so slow and sweet. It’s the latest from acclaimed writer/director John Sayles (Eight Men Out, City of Hope, Silver City) and a film that fits quite comfortably within the complexities of his dramatic canon. Much like the blues and formative rock based soundtrack and score that drives much of the film, the enjoyment you get from Honeydripper has almost nothing to do with innovation or surprise and nearly everything to do with simple storytelling, authenticity and conviction.

Honeydripper centers around a ramshackle, 1950’s Alabama juke-joint called the Honeydripper Lounge and its down-on-his-luck owner, Tyrone "Pine Top" Purvis (Danny Glover). Pine Top's accumulating debts threaten to swallow the club, so he makes one last-ditch attempt at survival by booking famous touring musician Guitar Sam for a single, make-or-break-it show. But, as his debt looms, Tyrone faces a slew of other challenges as well. Imagine having to face persistent harassment from a racist sheriff (Stacy Keach), your wife's (Lisa Gay Hamilton) dwindling confidence in your ability to live the kind of life she wants, and the realization that you're failing to provide your talented daughter (Yaya DaCosta) with the means necessary to pursue her dreams. It's enough to crush any average man. If that's not enough for one guy to handle, Pine Top’s faith in music also lies at stake after a mysterious event forced him to give up his once-revered reputation as a talented blues pianist. But when an eager, upstart musician by the name of Sonny Blake (newcomer Gary Clark, Jr.) train-hops his way to Pine Top's doorstep, Tyrone’s passion for making music is reawakened. Will his wife Delilah come around? How will he make it up to his daughter? Will Tyrone's musical spirit return?

Throughout his career, John Sayles has keenly set his stories in a wide variety of interesting locations. Given his skillful talent at rendering highly believable reproductions of the real world, most of Sayles' previous settings lead you to believe the guy is really drawing from his own past experiences. With Honeydripper, rural Alabama unexpectedly serves as a hidden lead character. It's the duality between despair and hope that evokes the precise recipe of dramatic notes as Tyrone evolves as a character. To a large degree, the bulky supporting cast feels unnecessary. From Delilah's boss and preacher to various musicians and cotton pickers, unlike the setting itself, they all feel more like archetypes than real people. At various points, however, Sayles does venture into the supporting shadows, giving their stories just enough depth to pique our interest. Try as Sayles may, despite the intentionally sleepy tone, the supporting journeys often take too much air-time away from Tyrone. Luckily, it's the environment and surroundings that pick up the slack.

In recent years, Danny Glover, one of Hollywood’s most misused actors, has been lazily cast as the aging curmudgeon. On a surprisingly refreshing note, Honeydripper is one of the few instances where Glover's real age effortlessly aligns with his character. Glover's deft balance of cynicism and nostalgia is finally believable, especially with a world-weary form and face. Never is this more succinctly clear than the monologue Glover delivers to his best friend Maceo (Charles S. Dutton), detailing how he imagines a slave must have felt the moment when he first sat down at his master’s piano, in secret, to combine its sound with that of Africa’s native music. To Danny Glover's credit, it’s one of the most memorable moments in his career.

Comparisons to the 1996 outing Big Night, directed by Campbell Scott and Stanley Tucci, are inevitable (only an appearance by Louis Prima can save an Italian restaurant from certain doom), but Honeydripper relies much less on the tension created by an audience’s uncertainty and more on the organic nature of how the story unfolds. Like I said, it has everything to do with simple storytelling. Like any journey about a person overcoming life's odds to recapture their inner spark or spirit, you're in for a predictable ride. Still, there's a reason why movies like Honeydripper find an audience from decade to decade. They give people a moment of pause and a glimmer of hope. Like the characters, they often reignite a burned out flame inside. If well executed, they hit the right emotional notes that transcend the screen. For a movie like this, you simply need to join the characters as they bask in the smaller moments along the way.

Throughout the film, Possum (played by contemporary blues great Keb Mo), a blind, slide guitarist, appears to Tyrone to offer words of cautionary wisdom. At one timely point, Possum waxes, "Sounds like the music’s moving on along like it always do. Time to make room for whatever comin’ next." It’s in that moment that we realize the characters and their stories are incidental in relation to the two constants in the film: this place and this music.

Although Sayles meanders somewhat at times, the film's final act crackles with electricity (literally, and figuratively). When the dust settles, viewers may feel the final burst of energy arrives a bit too late. Despite any emptiness you might feel, the spot-on use of rural Alabama is the hallmark of the film along with the music, Glover's performance, and the simplicity Sayles capitalizes on to tell the story.