Jerry Lee Lewis is an American original, a rock ‘n’ roll wonder. He’s also right out of a Faulkner novel. : ORNERINESS & DEMENTIA

So you saw “Great Balls of Fire” when it came out last year. Frisky fellow, that Jerry Lee Lewis. Apple-cheeked and yellow haired, full of those boyish high spirits. Practically a puppy dog.

Yes, Hollywood took a good, long look at Jerry Lee, and it blinked. Flipper bears a closer resemblance to Moby Dick than Dennis Quaid’s screen interpretation bore to the real Jerry Lee.

My own face-to-face brush with the Killer came three years ago in a stadium dressing room. I was a complete stranger being introduced to him for the first time. And I happened to have a set of binoculars dangling from a strap around my neck. The first thing Lewis said when we were introduced wasn’t “How do you do?” It was: “How would you like it if I took those binoculars and rammed them right back through your eyeballs?”

I allowed, as calmly and pleasantly as I could, that I probably wouldn’t care for it very much. This, after all, was the man who once shot his own bass player in the stomach, who turned up outside Graceland waving a gun and hollering for Elvis Presley to come out, who--well, the stories are endless. Jerry Lee Lewis is a character more worthy of a Faulkner novel than Hollywood entertainment, a force of warped nature and ever-surging ego who is liable to do or say anything. He is also a rock ‘n’ roll wonder, an American original whose combination of orneriness and dementia have kept him burning through the most haphazard career imaginable.

The Ferriday, La., native took off like a meteor in 1957 and ’58 with his piano-pounding Sun Records hits, “Whole Lot of Shakin’ Going On,” “Great Balls of Fire” and “Breathless.” Then a scornful world found out about his marriage to his 13-year-old cousin, and the meteor crashed. Ever dogged, Lewis rocked on out of the limelight until 1968, when he was embraced by country music fans, racking up a series of hits that brought him into the ‘80s.

Not even a couple of near-fatal illnesses that led to the extraction of a fair section of his innards has stopped Lewis’ drive. Last year he re-recorded his oldies for the “Great Balls of Fire” soundtrack. Now, at 55, he’s back with two cuts on an album of music from the “Dick Tracy” film.

My encounter with Jerry Lee ended with a handshake, rather than a pair of black eyes. He saved his aggression that day for the place where he hones it into spontaneous outbursts of primal rock--at the keyboard of his blazing 88.

Who: Jerry Lee Lewis.

When: Saturday and Sunday at 7 and 9 p.m.

Where: Calico Square at Knott’s Berry Farm, 8039 Beach Blvd., Buena Park.

Whereabouts: Take the Beach Boulevard exit from the San Diego Freeway and go north, or from the Riverside Freeway and go south.

Wherewithal: $21 ($12 after 6 p.m.) admits you to all park attractions.

Where to call: (714) 220-5200.