Reverend Billy and his Church of Stop Shopping are of the opinion that the masses have an opiate other than religion. And if it's the merchandise that keeps us in line, then there is no time of year when we binge on our fix of choice like the holiday season. Bank accounts and credit card statements across the nation can do the testifying for us on this point. And so it is at the most appropriate time of the year that What Would Jesus Buy?, Rob VanAlkemade's documentary on the Reverend and his cross country crusade to avert the "shopacalypse", comes to theaters. If only the film itself was as worthy as its cause.

VanAlkemade's film follows the Reverend Billy, née Bill Talen, an actor who got so fed up with the Disneyfication of Times Square a decade ago that he added a white collar to his catering uniform and began preaching the anti-Disney (and soon, anti-consumerism in general) gospel on New York Subway platforms and in guerrilla protests in stores. He gained a following, further developed his character, complete with a bleached-blond and securely Aqua-Netted televangelist's pompadour, and is now the head of a fully functioning non-profit, plus a gospel choir and band nearly four dozen strong. In 2005, the group embarked on a month long trip all around the country (on two bio-diesel buses), culminating in a march through Disneyland's Main Street U.S.A. that got Talen arrested and banned from all Disney facilities for life. Cameras followed them from start to finish.

If a political documentary focused on a month-long staged exercise to raise awareness of a corporate evil sounds familiar, look no further than the film's executive producer. Morgan Spurlock, the writer, director and unfortunate McDonald's feaster of Super Size Me has enjoyed continued success with the "30 Days" format through his FX television series, and VanAlkemade doesn't stray far from the formula: follow your subjects on their canned quest, and sprinkle liberally with factoids and interviews with pundits and people who can illustrate your point.

Photo Credit: Fred Askew

But what made Spurlock's film work was that it was easy, if unpleasant, to imagine eating nothing but Ronald's finest for a month. An empathy based on our literal gut reaction was built into the premise. His stats were sobering. Most importantly, the part of his documentary that focused on people other than himself revealed the character of those people quickly and deftly. It's a trick that Michael Moore is a master at, making us feel we have an in-depth knowledge of regular people who have but a few moments of screentime. But in WWJB, we don't really feel like we get to know anyone that well, not even the primary subjects of the film: Billy and his choir.

Rather than following Billy and the choir on their tour (which, according to the movie's press materials, was partially organized and financed by the filmmakers themselves), it would have been far more interesting to see the group engaged in the sort of actions they do on a more regular basis. Not only the political actions, but the personal manifestations of their politics. A single scene in a truck stop as the choir ponders how much they really need a mobile urinal, and seeing individual members rejoice at managing to escape without pulling their wallet out, don't really qualify. Similarly, the "regular people" interviewed for loosely related segments on our addiction to consumerism are largely without context, and mostly forgettable, with the exception perhaps of the woman with an entire closet of clothes for her little dog. Sure, the punchline is funny, as we see her beleagured husband mixing a strong drink, but it doesn't say much aside from that some people will spend their money on some pretty strange things. We can't identify with it, so it becomes so much news of the weird.

Much of the film feels forced and staged. When something genuine does occur, in the form of a highway accident that sends many from the group to the hospital and totals one of the buses, it only highlights this perception. Even the statistics and facts thrown at the audience seem to lack depth. Films like The Corporation or Manufacturing Consent cover the same material with much more grace, finesse and detail. As a result, the political message of the movie comes across as Anti-Consumerism 101. Considering the probable target audience for the film, a lot of people are going to end up shrugging their shoulders and asking, "Yeah, and what else is new?" All of this is unfortunate, since the good Reverend and his church are doing interesting work, and deserve a vehicle that will throw a spotlight on his pulpit. But What Would Jesus Buy? is doing little more than preaching a weak sermon to a converted choir.

What Would Jesus Buy? is now playing at the AMC Loews Dupont Circle theater.