"When you sell a man a book you don't sell him just 12 ounces of paper and ink and glue -- you sell him a whole new life," wrote poet Christopher Morely. When Paul Brennan (imagine a lanky, even more awkward version of late night's Conan O'Brien) goes door-to-door selling the Good Book to lonely middle-American housewives, he's offering them more than just gilded pages and profusely illustrated Bible stories. He's stepping into these ladies' lives for a moment and giving them a chance to test their faith. Do they believe strongly enough to buy a copy?....

To make the movie, the Maysles brothers asked permission from the Mid-American Bible Company to film their sales force in action (capturing everything, including a blustery group meeting where businessmen fall back on the sanctity of their product to absolve themselves of their greed). But the filmmakers also needed the permission of the potential Bible buyers, who invite the salesmen and the cameras into their homes to watch as, more often than not, they turn down the opportunity to purchase a new $50 Bible.

Paul "The Badger" Brennan is just one of the four salesmen featured, each operating with his own hook and deal-sealing tricks. But Mr. Brennan is easily the most desperate. He's the Willy Loman of the bunch. The Shelley Levine, to borrow from David Mamet's great Glengarry Glen Ross. The leads have all dried up, and his pitches are beginning to sound as tired as his jokes.

In true Mamet form, both parties are in on the con. The humble parish ladies don't necessarily intend to buy — after all, it's nice just to spend some time chatting with a stranger on an idle afternoon — and the salesmen hardly seem convinced that these women need another Bible. Yet they welcome the formality, and both sides play their part accordingly.

Salesman ultimately reveals as much about the lonely life of the '60s housewife as it does about the lost art of door-to-door salesmanship. The two phenomena are equally fascinating, and the movie offers us a rare chance to witness how they thrive on one another. The whole arrangement suggests an eerie symbiotic relationship where, were it not for the door-to-door salesman, the housewife might cease to exist. In that respect, when the salesman gives her his attention, he's offering her more than just 12 ounces of paper and ink and glue. He's actually offering her a life.

[as featured on Moviefone.com]