No, not that Southern Comfort. Not the 1981 film by Walter Hill.

Rather, the more recent documentary Southern Comfort, about a Georgia man dying of ovarian cancer. The man is Robert Eads, a transsexual.

Filmcritic.com: "This video documentary of Robert's last year of life is about as strange as they come, a mindbending (and genderbending) look at a subset of the population you probably didn't know existed. Transsexuals living in the good-ol'-boy Deep South? It's true, and it's one of the more compelling documentaries in recent years."

Amy Taubin: "Davis shot Southern Comfort with a small digital video camera, and, although it doesn't deliver the prettiest pictures or the smoothest pans, its unobtrusiveness proved invaluable. No mere fly on the wall, the director, who is never seen or heard, is treated by everyone on the screen like a dear friend. They talk to her as if they were unaware of the camera and simply want to include her in the conversation. As Eads grows weaker and his love affair with Lola becomes more intense, Davis focuses on their daily life and the gestures that reveal the depth of their intimacy?the way they laugh at each other's jokes and the way Eads, leaning on his now omnipresent cane, ambles across the room to close a button at the neck of Lola's dress. Discreet but not prudish, frank but not exploitative, Southern Comfort is an affecting tribute to a remarkable life."

Elvis Mitchell: "The voices heard in "Southern Comfort" ? the title refers to a support group peopled by Mr. Eads and his transgender friends ? add to its flavor. As the group talks about botched medical treatments and indifferent doctors, the casual flow of the chatter is in peculiar contrast to the horrors being described. The mistreatment adds up as Mr. Eads tries to find help for his condition. It is his resolute kindness that helps him build a community of friends and loved ones and that gives "Southern Comfort" its punch. In his last days he says of his foes, 'I can't hate 'em. I feel sorry for 'em.'"