I know director Robby Benson can tell the difference. He's my friend. I assume that Billy Graham can tell the difference, or he wouldn't have had such an effect on millions of people.

But the writers and producers of "Billy: The Early Years" either couldn't or wouldn't make that distinction. The film, which covers Graham's life roughly from the ages of 16 to 30, presents characters so uncomplicated they belong in a pop-up book.

They do make for pleasant, inoffensive company. Armie Hammer, who was 21 during the shooting, is wholly engaging as Graham, whether making calf eyes at future wife Ruth Bell (Stefanie Butler) or delivering his first herky-jerky sermon to a stunned congregation. When he addresses a crowd in 1949 at the end, we see the orator and man of faith fully joined for the first time.

Butler is winsome as the ideal wife-to-be, and Kristoffer Polaha has charisma and authority as Charles Templeton, who partnered with Graham in evangelism before losing his faith and leaving the ministry.

But the film's basic framework is always shaky. It begins with a TV reporter (Jennifer O'Neill in a throwaway role) interviewing the dying Templeton in his hospital bed. She seems to be looking for dirt on Graham -- her purpose isn't clear -- but Templeton (Martin Landau) recounts a series of happy anecdotes, most of which occurred long before he even knew Graham's name. (So much for verisimilitude.)

Billy, the teenage son of a Charlotte dairy farmer, gets shaken to his core by tent revivalist Mordecai Ham (powerful Cliff Bemis). For a minute, we see a young man wrestling with his desires and a new possibility for his destiny. Then the movie descends into overly simplistic territory: Billy dropping a load of dishes (in slow motion) while trying to impress the wrong girl, Billy fainting at the birth of his first baby after marrying the right one.

Screenwriters William Paul McKay and Jana Lyn Rutledge try to build suspense by giving Graham the obstacle of diminished self-confidence, but that doesn't amount to anything.

He's told to leave Bob Jones Academy by its repressive founder, who hunkers in a semidark room like Ned Beatty's "Network" tycoon and barks, "God gave me this position. Do you wish to defy the hand of God? You will never, never, never amount to anything!"

A custodian later tells Graham, "I've seen the greatest preachers of the day, so I know talent. And trust me when I say that you ain't got it! Hee hee hee!"

The movie keeps cutting back to aged Templeton, who is obsessed with images of the Holocaust (the event that prevented him from believing in a loving deity) and the approach of the Grim Reaper.

A picture like this one can't let an intelligent atheist die in peace; it's not enough that he die mistaken -- in the eyes of the filmmakers -- but that he admit his mistake. The film not only reassures believers but wags a finger in the faces of unbelievers.

And there we come to the film's greatest weakness, if it's meant to be an effective outreach to people who aren't Christians: It makes believing in God seem as easy as asking a generous dad for a bigger allowance.

The movie's Billy Graham sails joyfully through life after his quick conversion. He's never sad, never angry, never commits a wrong he can't take back, never faces a dark night of the soul. He has a dark 10 minutes of the soul -- literally dark, as he goes into the woods and prays for guidance to the rumble of thunder -- but God grants reassurance at once. Graham trots off blissfully, and the film gives the impression that he's set for the next 60 unexamined years. What could someone struggling desperately to find the Lord learn from so superficial a character?

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