I just saw Jesus' Son on IFC tonight, all the way through. I've seen it before, but since then I've seen all three of Denis Johnson's plays and met the guy several times. I liked the movie a lot the first time, but knowing what I know now, I like it so much more. Johnson is a great wordsmith, a jaded blaspheme who spins cautionary post-boomer tales. Billy Crudup, besides being a total babe, does an awe-inspiring job in the title role of a disaffected anti-hero. And death is portrayed quite matter-of-factly, which, in fact, it is. A matter of fact.
His literary take on death is so banal that I was touched by Johnson's actual sympathy and kindness during the most acute phase of my real-life experience with grief, which occurred smack dab during the staging of his second play in Chicago -- Shoppers Carried By Escalators into the Flames, a production for which I did press relations.
Suffice to say, this flick had a little more to offer than the last flick I saw.
