Would you get into a car that you knew was going to be in a horrific accident? Unless you’re a character from David Cronenberg’s Crash, the answer is probably no. But in Jesus’ Son, FH has no problem making this decision. Hitchhiking, he accepts a ride from a nice family in an Oldsmobile, waits for the crash and, afterwards, hangs around at the hospital long enough to hear the mother’s sickening screams.
FH (Billy Crudup, Without Limits) obviously isn’t your ordinary guy.
His name, an abbreviation for "F--- Head", was given to him because he constantly screws things up, especially when he tries to help people. But who is FH? Is he an angel? Is he really Jesus’ son, or did he just listen to Velvet Underground’s Heroin too many times? Perhaps he’s just a delusional junkie. FH says that he knows everything before it happens and even knows the names of each raindrop. But it’s hard to tell if he can really peer into the future, or if the drugs are making him think he can.
Jesus’ Son follows the adventures of FH during his drug-and- alcohol-hazed travels throughout the ‘70s. Beginning in Iowa City and culminating in an Arizona nursing home, FH staggers throughout the country searching for everything, yet, at the same time, nothing in particular. He meets strange people, finds strange lines of work, and continually crosses paths with a woman named Michelle (Samantha Morton, Sweet & Lowdown) that FH feels is his soulmate. The couple often gets together for weekends of sex and drugs that dissolve into screaming fights.
The surreal film seems to lack a cohesive plot, partially due to the fact that it’s based on a collection of short stories written by Denis Johnson. I’m not sure if the tales in Johnson’s book are as unrelated as they appear here (it was adapted by three novice screenwriters), but the film isn’t really presented in a way that emphasizes separate stories, resulting in a jumble of characters that you expect to jump back into the story but never do. There are only three constants – FH, Michelle and the drugs.
Eerily resembling Kurt Cobain in both appearance and lethargic demeanor, Crudup delivers a fine follow-up to his underrated turn as Steve Prefontaine in last year’s widely overlooked film Without Limits. His FH, who also narrates the movie, has eyes that look haunted and lost, yet totally aware and ominiscient, which almost convinces you that he does have some type of special healing power. But like any decent film that revolves around drug use (Drugstore Cowboy, Rush), it’s hard to decipher what’s real as FH’s hallucinations blend seamlessly into reality. Hell, one time I hit my thumb with a hammer so hard that I thought I saw a leprechaun.
Directed by Alison Maclean (Crush), Jesus’ Son offers a ton of great ‘70s songs and some fine supporting roles (namely Denis Leary, Holly Hunter, Will Patton and Jack Black). But the finest part of the film is perhaps the utterly believable appearance of FH and Michelle. These two are simply disgusting. The only time either of them got anywhere near soap is when FH nearly overdosed and Michelle dragged him into a cold shower hoping to revive him. You could almost smell the stench of body odor in the theater (or maybe it was that guy next to me).
Based on Denis Johnson's autobiographical novel of the same name, "Jesus' Son" is a far cry from your average fact-based drama. With no plot to speak of and relatively little substance to back up the rambling narrative, it would be a crime to use Hollywood's standard criteria to measure the artistic merits of director Alison Maclean's second film. In fact, relying on one's gut reaction is probably the only way to evaluate "Jesus' Son." Setting these kind of feelings aside, I think that this unusual little venture works on a larger scale, if only because it's nice to see an open-minded alternative to the trite memories presented in more mainstream fact-based accounts like "Liberty Heights" and "Man on the Moon."
What little plot the film has is propelled by FH (Billy Crudup), a shallow young man who lacks the motivation to ever get anywhere in life. After falling in love with brash, hedonistic Michelle (Samantha Morton), FH's finds meaning in his life, that is, until Michelle leads him to discover drugs and addiction. FH's life takes a turn for the worse, for his spiritual emptiness is replaced by the insatiable need to get high. It's not too long before Michelle finds herself pregnant and sober, but is the irresponsible FH ready to enter fatherhood?
Unlike most memoirs, "Jesus' Son" does not have much of a beginning, a middle, or an end; at least not in that order. Shuffling a film's events can be a risky undertaking, and confoundingly dense films like "Lost Highway" and "Bad Timing: A Sensual Obsession" have suffered because of their ambition to tamper with the traditional narrative form. However, this
non-linear plot structure is not always done in the name of nonsensical experimentation, and directors like Alain Resnais and Quentin Tarantino have often used this innovative approach to a film's advantage. More or less, "Jesus' Son" utilizes this concept, but in a way that really works, thanks to a wonderfully elegiac voice-over by Billy Crudup.
The fact that the film's plot doesn't advance chronologically is a perfect decision, as FH's drug addiction impedes him from wholly remembering most of his experiences. Largely because of the way the film is set up, there is not much point behind many of FH's musings and the film never reaches a satisfying conclusion. Yet I think it can get away with these otherwise crucial flaws by the virtue that the screenplay obviously never set out to achieve those goals. Because the film has stayed so true to Denis Johnson's memories, screenwriters Elizabeth Cuthrell, David Urrutia, and Oren Moverman have had to sacrifice traditional aims in favor of creating a real-life character through recollections and narration. I'm generally against narration, but in "Jesus' Son" this expository artifice doesn't attempt to "explain" anything that could be insinuated visually. Instead, it guides us through FH's mind, enhancing the development of an already complex main character.
Considering that FH it constantly stoned during the course of the film, it only makes sense that he is not going to recollect the exact details of this unfortunate period of his life. As a result, some of FH's more painful episodes are never shown, but the film still manages to imply what happened through the consequences of his actions. By telling the story as FH remembers it, the film feels almost like part of a free-flowing conversation. On the other hand, the film's plotting can get a little confusing at times, if only because FH can't remember all of the major incidents. While none of the plot holes are particularly damaging, "Jesus' Son" might have benefited had the screenwriters attempted to fill in a few of the blanks with some speculative material. At these crucial moments in FH's life, the screenplay should have taken the opportunity to replace his confoundingly obtuse drug fantasies with actual character interactions.
As adapted from Denis Johnson's book by Cuthrell, Urrutia, and Moverman, the film's screenplay is refreshingly objective. By taking on a detached viewpoint, they manage to emphasize that even though FH is not proud of his past, he can't entirely condone actions he vaguely recalls. FH never waxes nostalgic, but even looking back on this period, it's hard for him to really get upset about his mistakes when there's nobody who clearly deserves to take the blame. Such an impartial viewpoint is quite odd--especially for a movie about drugs--yet this very neutrality is what makes the film so interesting. No holds are barred when it comes to showing the destructive effects of drug use and, in a way, this cause-and-effect simplicity lets the grim situations speak for themself. In letting the viewer come to his/her own conclusions, the film rises above banal propaganda into the intricate realm of reality.
Coming off of the success of her 1992 debut, "Crush," Alison Maclean demonstrates even more promise with "Jesus' Son." Although she has yet to gain financing from a major studio, of all the young filmmakers, Maclean has one of the most distinctive directorial styles. Restrained only by a limited budget, Maclean does an impressive job creating a convincing 70s environment with the little she has to work with. Working with cinematographer Dam Kimmel, Maclean has diluted the colors to give the film a subtly beautiful glow. The wonderful visual look of the film helps to underscore the film's wispy mood, giving it the faded atmosphere of a blurry memory.
From Jack Black to Holly Hunter, the film's supporting cast features a who's who of unique talents in bit roles. It is a bit of a waste to see such gifted character actors wasted in walk-on cameos, as it is the lead performances in "Jesus' Son" that command one's attention. As FH, Billy Crudup gives yet another engaging performance. It's great to see that this rising performer has stayed true to his independent roots, but I would really like to see this fine young actor get some widespread recognition. With appealing performances in "Without Limits" and "Waking the Dead," it's about time that he burst into the big time.
Without ever coming across as phony or sentimental, "Jesus' Son" largely works because of the authenticity of its material. As with many true stories, this one doesn't always translate well from page to celluloid, yet even if the film never really goes anywhere, "Jesus' Son" is a rewarding experience
TELLURIDE '99 REVIEW: Maclean's "Jesus' Son," a Story of Levity and Grace By Margaret A. McGurk
Director Alison Maclean has won a lot of influential friends in the past several years, with her first feature "Crush" and her contributions to the TV series "The Seven Deadly Sins" (for ABC), "Homicide: Life on the Streets"(NBC), "Subway Stories" and "Sex and the City" (both HBO). In addition, she has development deals with Zeotrope, Miramax and Good Machine.
Now, she has a chance to win a broader audience with "Jesus' Son," adapted from Denis Johnson's book of short stories about an aimless druggie known only as "Fuckhead," or FH, (Billy Crudup).
Filmmakers too often forget that addiction itself is boring; bad behavior is bad behavior, even when the perp is, say, a sexy rock star. Maclean sheds the usual stereotypes of glamor and degradation to tell a story of surprising levity and grace. She wisely chooses to tune into the human voice at the heart of the tale, and to zero in on the rich veins of dark and goofy humor in Johnson's stories.
It took a trio of screenwriters -- Eizabeth Cuthrell, David Urrutia and Oren Moverman -- to tranlate Johnson's stories into a movie script. They chose, appropriately enough, a looping, elliptical style that looks the way the narrator talks. The story jumps back and forth in time, repeats itself and shifts without warning from direct narrative to hallucinations.
One particularly striking sequence, for instance, takes place while FH and a companion are stealing copper wire from the other man's former home to earn money for drugs. FH looks out a window and sees a naked woman soaring through the air on what looks like a parachute harness. When the companion matter of factly says, "That was my wife," FH takes it as a shared dream, in a story peppered with dreams, memories and visions. Maclean and company resist the temptation to overexplain those moments. Usually, that's the right choice, though it leaves a blanks in the story line, some of them annoying. More often, gaps are artfully concealed by Crudup's engaging voice-over, much of it lifted almost verbatim from Johnson's book.
Maclean makes economical use of celebrity cameos to flesh out events that a low-budget movie could never afford to stage. For instance, the hero's entire stint in a drug rehab center is represented by a single scene when FH shaves a fellow patient, played by Dennis Hopper.
The director elicits strong work from the entire cast -- Jack Black is particularly memorable as a pill-popping emergency room orderly. Samantha Morton invests feral energy in an underwritten role as the girl who shares her heart and her heroin habit with FH.
Ultimately the movie belongs to Billy Crudup, who is on screen virtually every moment. He creates a naive young searcher full of charm and generosity, without ever forgetting that he is also playing an dolt with a needle in his arm.
