Shaun de Waal movie OFTHEWEEK Jesus’ Son, in case you were wondering, has nothing to do with the offspring of the messiah, who in any case is considered by the mainstream Christian tradition to have led a sex-free life. Alternative traditions whisper of a passion for the ex-prostitute Mary Magdalene, and a French royal dynasty did claim to be descended from him, but that’s neither here nor there. The film’s title comes from Lou Reed’s 1967 song Heroin (not, oddly, on the soundtrack): “When I’m rushing on my run/ And I feel just like Jesus’ son/ And I guess that I just don’t know/ I guess that I just don’t know.” The song combines an exhilarating rush with a sense of pure menace and a numbed appreciation of a drug that disconnects emotion – “And then I’m better off than dead/ ‘Cause when the blood begins to flow/ I really don’t care any more …” That on/off flickering of feeling, analogous to the smackhead’s nodding in and out of waking life, is one of the themes of Jesus’ Son, which chronicles the misadventures of a middle-American drug addict in the early Seventies. He is nicknamed Fuckhead, thanks to his general ineptitude. What his real name is I don’t think we ever discover, but he is played very convincingly by Billy Crudup, who has the looks and charm to generate some sympathy for this lost soul. The irresolutely stumbling way he walks, all on its own, gives us some sense of his lostness, his corrupt naivety. Samantha Morton, who was so touching as the deaf mute in Woody Allen’s Sweet and Lowdown, is as touching here, in a more complex and less likeable role. She plays Michelle, a woman who is as lost and confused, if not more so, than Fuckhead. He loves her, and she seems to love him, but it is clear that drugs are the priority in their lives, leaving little space for a real relationship. Tragedy, almost inevitably, follows. The rest of the cast have roles that are not much more than glorified, though effective, cameos. Dennis Hopper has a few minutes as a recovering addict (and the best line: “Talk into my bullet hole”); Holly Hunter offers Fuckhead a glimpse of salvation different from that offered by a tattooed figure of whose divinity he is momentarily convinced. Jack Black (who was so hilarious in High Fidelity) is brilliant as a pill-guzzling pal. Jesus’ Son differs from the two most memorable recent drug movies, Drugstore Cowboy and Trainspotting. It lacks the fluid ease of the former, as well as its thrilling (and unrepentant) take on outsiderdom; it lacks the wild comedy of the latter, though it has its own low-key black humour. It neglects to tell us, as Trainspotting did not, what heroin’s exact appeal is. But it has a grainy texture that speaks of authenticity (the camera jolts and shudders along with the protagonist), and it is relentlessly unheroic in every way. It also has a soundtrack as compelling, in its own manner, as that of Trainspotting. The music is carefully chosen to reflect its era and perfectly timed in the context of the storyline. The movie is based on Denis Johnson’s story collection, so it is understandably episodic, moving back and forth as Fuckhead loses track of where he is in his fragmented tale. It must be said, though, that some episodes are better than others (the one about the man with a hunting knife in his eye, played by Johnson himself, is priceless), and parts of Jesus’ Son are distinctly meandering. But then that echoes the opening lines of Reed’s song, and perhaps sums up the drug addict’s state: “I don’t know just where I’m going/ But I’m going to try for the kingdom if I can …” Fuckhead may be searching for heaven, but mostly he finds himself in hell.