Strongly recommended. I would ruminate, based on close examination of my late grandmother, that there's a ragged wound in the center of all white Southerners still oozing over the unrepentant evil of slavery. Nowadays, that would manifest as what Jim White calls in 'Searching for the Wrong-Eyed Jesus,' "a loneliness for God," a vague dread that nothing can ever really be made right in this world. Add to this, the muttered self-loathing of all rural, poor America, stumbling the parapet between fundamentalism and crystal meth. The South is just more lyrically insane than Nebraska. To this special purpose, some call the songs of White, Johnny Dowd, and Brett and Rennie Sparks (all whom perform splendidly in the movie) 'Gothic,' but Amazon files it under 'Americana,' with Twain, with Bierce, and with Gee's Bend, Alabama, an appellation more honest and, in the end, the proper place for this movie.
Review of Searching for the Wrong-Eyed Jesus
