Electric Jesus
This loving spoof of '80s heavy metal Christian music features rockin' tunes, an enjoyable cast and a heartfelt mix of humor and empathy.
“Electric Jesus” will play one night only at the Kan-Kan Cinema and Brasserie Sunday, Sept. 5 with the cast and crew in attendance, including Indianapolis actor Andrew Eakle.
Christian music has always existed alongside popular music like the annoying little sibling who's always perfect but isn't as much fun as their older, more rebellious kin. Even when it moved away from the harmonies-and-guitars folk era into chord-crunching heavy metal, how hard can you really rock praising God and dedicating yourself to a life free of sin?
"Electric Jesus," the new comedy-drama from writer/director Chris White, answers with authority: really, really hard, man.
This funny but touching film is a nostalgic look back at the 1980s and the time when Christian music was finally starting to cross over into the mainstream and gain fans who weren't necessarily hardcore churchies. It follows a group of teenagers going on tour during the summer of 1986, trying to strike it big as a hair metal band while playing dead-end gigs and riding around in a second-hand RV bought off another group that fell apart.
The film stars some recognizable names, including Briam Baumgartner of "The Office" as Skip Wick, their cringeworthy joke of a manager, a drunk and a bit of a bully, who we always suspect is just working the church circuit as an angle because he couldn't cut it in "real" music. He wears Miami Vice sport coats and an equally off-putting toupee. Judd Nelson plays a pastor who gives the tour his blessing, but also his oldest daughter, who unbeknownst to him stows away on the RV and becomes part of the band.
Most of the cast is probably new to you, but is an eclectic and enjoyable mix of types. As the old saying goes, we just enjoy spending time with these characters.
Shannon Hutchinson is Sarah, the aforementioned daughter, who turns out to have a mournful wail of a voice that's part Patsy Cline and pure poetry. Wyatt Lenhart is Michael, the lead singer who can hit stratospheric falsettos and dresses like David Lee Roth in vaguely militaristic get-ups. Cliff (Gunner Willis) is the big, doofy but adorable bass player, whose momma has entrusted with wads of cash "just in case" anything happens on the road. Will Oliver plays Jamie, the lead guitarist who prefers to let his axe do most of the talking, and is probably the most talented in the bunch. Scotty (Caleb Nix Hoffmann) is the drummer who's the grump of the group; his heart in the right place but his beat is usually a little behind.
The lead character is Erik (Andrew Eakle), the shy guy who knows Christian rock back-and-forward like an encyclopedia but would rather support the band behind the scenes as the sound man. He deeply wants the group, 316 (a reference to John 3:16), to succeed and cross over into non-Christian spheres and spread the word of the Lord. As Erik keeps saying, their goal should be to make Jesus famous, not themselves.
It would not be accurate to call this a faith-based film. While it makes fun of the hypocrisy and hype that has pervaded Christian (or any) music, it also embraces this community and counts itself an ally... just one not afraid to gently heckle.
Let's call it a loving spoof.
Director White comes from this background, using this film to look back on a particular time and place with a mix of whimsy, affection and a touch of sadness. There are notes here from "Almost Famous," "The Commitments" and "That Thing You Do" -- stories of bands that never made it big but somehow their legacy still echoes.
As a screen presence, Eakle has got the goods. The Indianapolis native and Ball State University grad gives Erik, who's maybe 16 or 17, a sort of old-soul grace. He truly believes in 316, possibly even more than the band themselves, and is capable of always sticking to the truth but still managing to delude himself. With his subtle handsomeness -- he sort of reminds me of Alan Ruck blended with Domhnall Gleeson -- and empathetic eyes, Eakle should get some looks up the Hollywood chain from this film.
Erik and Sarah somewhat predictably fall for each other, but the relationships plays out at cross angles from our expectations. Meanwhile, 316 gets the call from an established Christian star, Chris Angelopoulos (Shawn Parsons), which could pave their path with gold. But the record label guys want to see if they can hold their own against legit metal acts who, at least on stage, show more fealty to the fellow down below than the one above.
The music by Daniel Smith, with some covers of old hits by bands like Stryper and some original songs, kicks ass while at the same time offering enough laughs -- "Let's be commandos for Christ!" -- to give the musical interludes a double-edged form of entertainment.
It's those twin layers of storytelling that make "Electric Jesus" a feel-good romp. It pokes fun at this music and this crowd, but also clearly loves it all. The funnest times are often had within our own families.