This movie contains the best visual description of "The South", that I've ever seen:
Marjoe Gortner paces the stage like a lanky tiger. The outer ringlets of his white-boy afro are soaked with sweat from preaching of the fiery and passionate love that can only come from JEE-SUS and the 94 degree August nights that always seem to accompany a tent revival. The line to receive his healing touch is growing longer and more feverish by the second, like children anxious to tell Santa their secret desires, all hopped up on Salvation sugar.
A tiny, grey-haired woman, half as wide as she is tall, steps up to Marjoe with a tearful and pained expression hiding behind her cat's-eye glasses. The…