07/16/06 Searching For The Wrong-Eyed Jesus

Searching For The Wrong-Eyed Jesus (2005), directed by Andrew Douglas

watched solo; DVD rental (Blockbuster) @ home & car ride (Raleigh, NC)

It is the weekend of parties for Leslie & I. This statement has almost nothing to do with my movie review here, other than the fact that it affected my Movie Challenge viewing habits. We have been in & out of town and picking up party supplies all weekend, so that a lot of my watching has happened in the passenger seat of a car, or squeezed in between parties. What my none-too-intentional segue is about is that there was a journey taking place here. A journey that was interlaced with one from an interesting alt-country singer/songwriter Jim White...a southern raconteur of sorts. The documentary of the journey to the Deep South was a collaboration between White and new filmmaker Douglas (who oddly enough also directed the newest "Amityville Horror" remake in '05) after Douglas had heard White's album of the same name. Hoping to get a reading on what is considered "backwoods" areas of such deeply southern locales in Florida & Louisiana, White borrows an old Chevy from a friend to cruise along the countryside meeting folks from forgotten towns, all the while waxing poetic to the audience with a helping hand of countrified soundtrack by his musical buddies. What unfolds is an unorthodox culture of impoverished peoples filling local restaurants, barbershops, churches, coal mines, bars, truck stops and prisons...with their own brand of philosophy in life. Along the way, White (who claims to have an affinity for junkyards and trash pile treasure troves) picks up from the trunk of one car an iconic Jesus statue and places into his own car trunk for the ride. This seemingly good luck charm provides more of the religious premise for his off-kilter reflections on life and hope in the eyes of much of the boggy marshes he visits. It's a strage journey, with a self-proclaimed oddball tour guide...but intriguing at least. It's not that White necessarily exposes the innermost workings of southern culture (on the skids, ha ha), but attempts to enlighten with his own personal touches (like his metaphorical ramblings on society as an ice cream cone for example). With the raspy and jangly instrumentation in the background of his narration, White proceeds to find "the gold tooth in God's crooked smile."

4 out of 5 stars