Oh, what to say, what to say about my wonderful, beloved celebrity crush Jim White and the movie he inspired, an odd and loping travelogue through the Deep South, entitled Searching for the Wrong-Eyed Jesus?

Here�s his picture, so you can appreciate his hottness, too. (See illustration)

ILLUSTRATION

Oooo! Moody!

I love him so much, that Jim White and his eerie, Pentacostal trip-hop songs that bob and weave like late-night telephone conversations with a beloved but very drunk friend. (Plus, I am a sucker for a drawl, which explains not only several regrettable relationships, but seventeen of my nearly twenty tattoos.)

Although my most recent dog-sitting job ranks high on the list of all-time annoyances, I was grateful for their giant-screen television, and the broad and varied cable package that allows said tv to receive the Sundance channel. For last night, I flipped through the channels and came upon a listing for the Jim White movie�something I�d missed when it came through LA last summer, to my great disappointment.

I called my friend Al last night to tell him it was on, but he was on his way to a gig and could only chat for a minute. �You�re not going to be able to sleep tonight,� he said, which was not the response I�d anticipated. �Is it scary?� I asked him. �Totally,� he said, �It�s one of my all-time favorite movies, man!� Al enjoys to add �man� to the ends of his sentences, which is one way you can tell he is �laid-back.�

So, without ruining the plot for all of you (who, in my mind, are halfway out the door at this moment, on your way to get this movie), I will say that I was able to sleep just fine. The movie was scary, in the way it can be when you come face-to-face with those who take the Bible literally and fail to grasp the importance of proper dental hygiene. But it was also fascinating and beautiful and a little pretentious, filled with gorgeous, raw-boned music and lanky, laconic men. ( I feel a tattoo coming on�!)

I love Jim White even more, if that is even possible, than I did before. He acted as tour guide in the movie, leading the crew through the South in search of, as he put it, �the gold tooth in God�s crooked smile,� something I�ve been meaning to do, but always put off. He was all hickly and excellent, in his warped old cowboy hat, hicking it up for the cameras. The film is weird and unsettling, and funny, if a little contrived at times. I could have done without the scene in which the Handsome Family sit in their car, loudly talking over each other about snake handling and how �beautiful� it could be to worship God through something so extreme.

The movie kind of reminded me of Tucson, the way it's all white guys shuffling around sullenly in their weird shirts, playing music and staring off into the distance. And like, terrible cars languishing by the road, and sinister roadhouses filled with crazy women who'll kick your ass if you look at their man (or invite you home with them for a gruesome three-way, if you don't).

Like that.

I never acquired the talent for lassitude that hanging out with musicians requires, so I prefer to worship from afar. Jim White makes the kind of music that makes communion possible, even at a distance.

Star of the day. . .Harry Crews