‘Vernon’ Documents Laughter

The Florida Panhandle, tucked beneath Alabama, is a long strip of desolate swampland, small, sleepy towns and miles of lonely highways that have more road kills than cars--hardly the place most filmmakers would choose as a setting, unless they were making a bass-fishing video.

But the region, specifically a remote city just south of Interstate 10, is exactly the place that director Errol Morris selected when he made his quirky 1987 documentary “Vernon, Florida.” Using simple shots of people talking about their lives, with no narrator or soundtrack, Morris pieces together an uncluttered, sometimes hilarious, portrait of rural life.

There’s the turkey hunter who speaks in solemn tones about his holy pursuit to bag the ultimate gobbler, and the man who declares in a thick drawl that his worm-farming skills are far, far beyond those of the so-called experts who write books on the subject. Morris also drops in on a local couple who proudly display a jar they believe to contain sand that is growing--a phenomenon they attribute to atomic radiation. Unblinking, they say they expect the half-empty container to be full within two years.

The bizarre travelogue goes on to address residents’ views on issues as diverse as religion, suicide, the price of possum, jewelry appraisal, the vagaries of law enforcement, gopher tortoises and the future of geopolitics. But while the discourse dips deeply into the inane, the viewer never feels Morris is ridiculing the residents, only that he is genuinely curious. And, in the end, that’s what keeps this friendly little excursion so much fun.

“Vernon, Florida” (1987), directed by Errol Morris. 60 minutes. Not Rated.