’80s era movie-making legend John Hughes would be proud. Ironically set in the same neon rainbow decade as Breakfast Club and Sixteen Candles, Electric Jesus could be the next coming of age flick for a new generation (and old). It’s a teenage comedy that’ll be easy to watch over and over again. It takes a group of rag-tag teenagers, sets them on an adventure with mishaps galore, and they discover a little bit of who they are and what the world is like along the way.
“In the summer of 1986, I ran sound for a Christian heavy metal band.”
The main character, Erik (played by Andrew Eakle), narrates the movie for us, which starts with a frightening deer-in-the-headlights moment for 316 – a Christian heavy metal band caught playing in front of a “secular” audience that doesn’t want any part of their message music. This is a hilarious but cringe-worthy moment for any band that wilted in such an environment.
The story then quickly unrolls from the beginning. Erik is a Christian rock music geek that found a way to join this local Christian metal band, 316, as a audio engineer.
He expresses his interest in being 316’s soundman, but first, he has to be grilled by the band at a rehearsal. The matter-of-fact question “How did you come to know Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Savior?” is fired his way as probably the first question in his first-ever job interview (at least a job that matters). The next question comes later in the film, but sets up a fun moment where he recites a list of the few bands he’s into.
“What kind of music do you like?”
He rattles off 66 band names that those in the scene will all recognize. 66 – one for every book of the Bible. It’s funny to see his music geek knowledge soar over the heads of his peers.
“Christian heavy metal? You think it was a joke? It wasn’t a joke to me. I loved it.”
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When this reviewer began watching a screener version of the film, Director Chris White sent a text that read: “We made it for people like you, Doug.”
That kind of statement made me hopeful, but I couldn’t believe his statement just yet. I had to watch the film and decide for myself.
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I’ll be danged if it didn’t make me feel just like that. Electric Jesus is a film made for us – Christian rockers and metalheads that lived through yester-decade.
Cameron Crowe is another producer that could also be proud of this film. Not only does it give a believable glimpse of what it was like to grow up in America, but the authenticity of the background is impeccable. All the scenery is familiar to us – from the posters all over the garage-turned-rehearsal-room wall, the band names and music snippets dropped, to the “us versus them” mentality of trying to make Jesus famous in our subculture and world.
The film jumps back ten weeks to a talent show at some Christian camp (Camp Harmony), where 316 cranks out the Stryper classic, “Makes Me Wanna Sing.” The elementary and middle school kids in the audience are jumping, the band is fully into it, and the jam is on. It’s so fun to see little details, like one of the camp counselors focus his attention squarely on the lead guitarist during the solo section. The drummer is doing his best “visual timekeeper” moves and smiles are flowing all around.
Erik passes his audition interview and joins the band. I like how he’s running around frantically trying to put out fires and get the show going right up until the very last second with plugging a cable in here and a swab of duct tape there.
“The ’80s. That’s when Christian rock really started to roll.”
Enter Skip Wick, an overweight middle-aged manager dressed like a ’70s-era used car salesman – complete with the bad toupee. He schmoozes the bands’ parents with a dazzling pitch about the summer tour he wants to take them on, adding sizzle with the potential for a record contract … all in the name of ministry, of course.
So begins the adventure of a summer-long lifetime for these teens, complete with cheesy youth group shows in skating rinks and church sanctuaries to halfway-amused audiences and the token pizza dinners and sleeping on floors. Call it the most unglamorous summer rock tour ever. Ask your favorite Christian rock band if they have any memories like this. They will.
“We’re doing this to make Jesus famous.”
There’s a stowaway teenage girl incident, which happens when the band is already too far away from her home and much too close to their next showtime to turn the painted RV around and take her back home to her pastor daddy (played by Judd Nelson). It turns out she’s got talent, so an opening act and a love interest with Sarah and Erik is born.
This film answers a lot of questions about the Christian subculture, especially in the context of those troublesome teenage years.
Many of the clichés and accurate criticisms of Christian rock are rubbed in your face with a tongue firmly planted in cheek.
It’s so fun to see the dreams of these wannabe Christian rockers, the tension amongst the teenage angst and puritan wholesomeness all mashed up on screen.
“I rededicated my life two years ago at camp … again,” says bassist Gunner Willis, as he explains going off the deep end in his middle school years, which culminates in a tator tot theft at school that brought him to rock bottom.
Besides Stryper, one can hear needle drops from Daniel Amos, the 77s, Lifesavers, The Choir and Steve Taylor. This is the audio proof that Christian rock is not predominantly cheese, but rather compelling great rock and roll art.
While the 316 originals are not stellar, they would’ve gotten some applause back in 1986. Maybe that’s the point. If it was as spot-on as a Stryper original, the movie simply wouldn’t be as believable.
The 316 song “Commando for Christ” takes center stage with a performance at an old fashioned church with stained glass windows and a multi-generation audience on wooden pews. For a musical reference point, think of the Master of the Metal Messiah Prophet song “Heavy Metal Thunder.” Lots of falsetto and simple but bombastic drumming.
The lyrics follow a spiritual warfare / militaristic theme that was indicative of the time and surely intentional by Director Chris White, who wrote the lyrics to which Daniel Smith (of Danielson fame) composed music. Together, they nailed it. This is a comedy, but it rocks.
There’s a big breakdown in the middle where frontman Michael Lenhart says, “Captain! Hey, Captain. It’s time to bring out the big guns.” He slowly gazes around the room for a dramatic pause and says, “I’m talking about a Yahweh, M-80 Rocket Launcher!”
Of course, the lead guitar player, Jamie (Will Oliver), holds his ax like a machine gun that he pans across the audience.
They swing right into the chorus with the audience clapping along, “Co-maaan-do’s – for Christ – let’s all go commando!”
It’s hard not to sing the hooky chorus after the movie’s over. There’s a ballad they play called “Girl (I Love Jesus, Too),” which features some sweet guitar leads. Their cover of the Rez Band rocker “Love Comes Down” is exceptionally spirited and actually quite great. Check out the video here.
There’s so much to laugh at here – from characters like the Christian ego-star Chris Angelopoulos to the goofy youth pastors to the dialog about Amy Grant, Carman and Tammy Faye. Angelopoulos struts into a crowded hotel room demanding attention, handing his sunglasses to the adoring manager, only to accent his departure by holding out his hand and saying, “Skip?!” He puts them on upside-down at first, but then about-faces to depart.
The news he shared was ultimately cool for 316, though. Promoters are interested in putting them on the Motley Crue / Stryper Heaven and Hell Tour, but first they want to see how they can handle a secular audience. Angelopoulos gets them booked at a Dallas metal dive called Purgatorio, opening for Satan’s Clutch.
It’s an epic decision for the band, but first they must deal with frontman Michael Lenhart’s misgivings about playing a show where they serve alcohol.
Erik then steps up and delivers a motivational speech about going where the lost people are and not singing to the choir anymore. Michael stands up to him after that with a serious glare. The tension fills the room until he adds a big amen to the speech and they all rejoice.
Next comes the feel-good moment of the movie. Remember how the band in Almost Famous mends fences and unifies to the tune of Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer” on the tour bus? This is on par with that, as the band lip-syncs in their hotel room with “To Hell With The Devil” blaring on the boombox. Classic moment.
The film climaxes with the big show in Dallas, where they’re all forced to grow up in an instant. Sarah and Erik have a talk near the end, where she reminds him that, “Jesus is already famous.”
It’s a heady and climactic moment that can go either way. Unlike the standard faith-based movies we might have seen over the years, the director doesn’t force-feed us the decision. He lets us mull over it like a good piece of art.
This is a movie that I must own on DVD someday, so I can watch all the minute details over and over again. Trust me, this stuff won’t be lost on those of us who’ve lived through it.
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Electric Jesus is in film festivals this fall, with worldwide distribution to follow. For more info, go to electricjesusfilm.com
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