Who exactly are evangelicals? "Road Trip" takes us to them

"Friends of God: A Road Trip With Alexandra Pelosi," a one-hour documentary about evangelical America airing tonight on HBO, satisfies in the way only a good car excursion can. A relaxed adventure without firm itinerary, so you're free to soak it all in: the quirky (Christian wrestling match followed by a sermon); the remarkable (the Rev. Jerry Falwell); the topical (same-sex marriage); the ordinary (Jeff and Susan Chapman with their 10 children at home in Tennessee). It's a lively, interesting film, if not always deeply penetrating.

No matter the range of material captured by filmmaker Pelosi, the documentary's singular segment, which will be forever seared in your brain because it's so stunningly weird and frank, is the one featuring the Rev. Ted Haggard.

Haggard, as you might recall, in November resigned from the 30-million-member National Association of Evangelicals, as well as his own Colorado mega church, after being found guilty of "sexually immoral conduct." A former male prostitute claimed Haggard paid him for sex and bought drugs.

Pelosi completed her documentary just days before Haggard's downfall and addresses that fact at the very beginning of her film. Toward the end she explains his disgrace in more detail. But here's the kicker: In the film Haggard actually comes across as an OK, personable guy.

Except for that one part when Haggard points out — in language too vivid to repeat in this newspaper — that evangelicals enjoy sex lives greater than other Americans.

A man, Pelosi's filming companion, is heard remarking off-camera: "Oh come on!"

To which Haggard turns to a couple of his congregants and collects, in remarkable detail, confessions validating his claim.

Pelosi, a character throughout the film, if only as a voice, cheers: "A bunch of studs! Look at them! There's a lotta love in this place!"

All of which sets apart "Friends of God" from those more staid religious-themed films. This is a unique exploration of evangelical Christianity, decidedly crafted for the non-born-again audience, and it should attract plenty of word-of-mouth buzz if only because of Haggard.

Pelosi, the daughter of House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, regards the documentary as her anthropological adventure into a different, foreign world. That could be off-putting to the estimated 50 million to 80 million U.S. evangelicals who might not like seeing themselves as some strange American species. But as Pelosi drives through red America, filming church reader boards and giant crosses and tuning into various radio sermons, she treats her evangelical finds respectfully. Confessing that she's a "mainstream" American and a "New Yorker" not used to seeing scriptural quotes on a menu, Pelosi, at times, shares the exuberance of her subjects.

"It's a Saturday night. What are some guys like you doing in church?" she asks a trio of men, who look to be in their 20s, gathered with thousands at a Houston arena.

Replies one man: "For years it was all sex, drugs and rock and roll full throttle. But now ... it's full throttle for the Lord!"

Pelosi: "So you're all high on Jesus!"

Man: "High on Jesus and never coming down!"

The title, "Friends of God," we learn early on, is the name of a catchy song. The tune, heard throughout the film, coupled with Pelosi's chatty personality and her participatory style of reportage, set a jaunty tone.

Pelosi's aim here, she says in her documentary, is to figure out this unique slice of America and what it means for the country's future. Alas, "Friends" is too drive-by to be truly conclusive. It gives us plenty of postcards — a conservative comedian on tour; a traveling minister instructing children on the phoniness of evolution; a visit to a Florida theme park called "The Holy Land Experience"; a look at a Biblical miniature golf course in Lexington, Ky. — but not an interpretation of what it all means.

That could be because we, as viewers, are supposed to figure it out. Fair enough. But since Pelosi makes herself a character in the film, I got annoyed that she never showed her face — or really shared her insights.

Instead, we only see her reflection in an interviewee's sunglasses; her hands while she's driving; the back of her head. We hear her "Amens," her questions and her comments. Why not a quick Pelosi stand-up at the end?

Florangela Davila: 206-464-2916 or fdavila@seattletimes.com