The ordinary denizens of a small Southern town become natural subjects for filmmaker Errol Morris in Vernon, Florida, a hypnotically bizarre character study. Based on the evidence of the film, this small humid town in the panhandle is home to a disproportionately high percentage of oddballs. (On the other hand, Morris's other work suggests that poking a camera anywhere uncovers a common vein of weirdness.) Some of the material comes across as sideways homespun wisdom: when a man gazes across a swamp and marvels at how much water is out there, he adds, "And that's just the top of it." Hard to argue with that. Then there's the jar of sand the contents of which, its owners swear, has been growing in volume over the years. And a hunter's descriptions of the near-orgasmic highs and lows of turkey hunting is a monologue that would have impressed Faulkner or Thomas Wolfe. It has always been an open question whether Morris's blank-eyed camera is encouraging the viewer to laugh at his subjects or simply presenting the world as it is. You'll laugh, and more likely be astonished. --Robert Horton