Typically at the beginning of each month, I reflect on what I watched the prior month and provide a quick “snapshot” of my thoughts on those films. But with the release of The Odyssey in July, my mind has been on Christopher Nolan’s latest film, as well as the rest of his filmography.

So enjoy my thoughts on The Odyssey below, as well as a roundup of my past writing on the works of Christopher Nolan.

Oppenheimer (2023)

In 2023, Oppenheimer broke box office records and won Best Picture at the Academy Awards. The film was also voted #1 by the Arts & Faith Ecumenical Jury. I’ve included my Arts & Faith write-up below, as well as my breakdown of the thematic similarities between Jurassic Park and Oppenheimer.

Interstellar (2014)

I was lucky enough to catch the 2025 Interstellar re-release with my wife on my birthday, my first time seeing it on the big screen since it first came out in 2014. It’s fascinating to witness a film’s reclamation in real time (it’s risen from a 3.8 to a 4.4 average rating on Letterboxd since release), but I think part of the newfound appreciation for the film is in its rewatch value. Once you know where the film is leading, you see how love isn’t just a corny sentiment that Nolan is squeezing in – it’s the driving force behind the entire film.

Much has been written about Interstellar since its release, but one under-discussed component is its subtle representation of the holy trinity. The film gives us Cooper, the father who loves his children and ventures into the terrifying unknown of space to redeem humanity from a dying earth. Then there is his daughter, Murphy, who stands as the child tasked with the work of restoration, ultimately using the wisdom of her father to bring salvation to earth. Finally, there is the mysterious presence of “Murph’s Ghost,” acting as an unseen, guiding spirit to shape the hearts and actions of others in the film.

These three roles work together to save the world, even if the mechanics of how they intercede remain beyond the grasp of our characters. They may not understand the exact science, but the protagonists accept that they’re being held by a triune love reaching across time and space, and sustained by a grace and peace they aren’t fully capable of comprehending.

“Maybe [love] means something more—something we can’t yet understand. Some artifact of a higher dimension.” - Dr. Amelia Brand, Interstellar

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord.” - Isaiah 55:8

Inception (2010)

Inception was an immediate favorite of mine upon release in 2010, but I recently re-evaluated it for FilmFisher, comparing its protagonist’s inward journey to the biblical story of Lot. In addition, I dug back into my archives and found a musical analysis of the film I conducted back in college. I interned with Hans Zimmer in 2017, so I’ve always had a fondness for his collaboration with Nolan on films like Inception.

The Dark Knight Trilogy (2005-2012)

Near the end of Christopher Nolan’s first Batman film, the caped crusader delivers the film’s thesis by repeating a quote he heard from Rachel Dawes: “It’s not who I am underneath, but what I do, that defines me.” On the surface, this is Bruce’s subtle way of revealing his identity as Batman to Rachel. But this line provides a foundational understanding of Bruce’s character arc. Both Bruce Wayne (the seemingly shallow playboy and Batman (the fear-inducing, lawless vigilante) are just masks; neither persona defines him. Instead, he is defined entirely by his mission: to restore justice to Gotham and prove that the city isn’t “beyond saving.”

This concept of definition-by-deed can also be found in the Gospels, where the writers argue that Christ’s signs and miracles define him. Peter’s identity realization in Matthew, “You are the Christ,” comes after Jesus feeds the four thousand, and during Holy Week these signs come to a pinnacle. Jesus abandons the traditional expectations of power to wash the feet of his disciples, redefines the covenant through the breaking of bread, and ultimately offers his own body as the supreme sacrifice on the cross.

There is a striking parallel here in how Nolan presents the dark knight. Just as Christ’s body becomes present inside of Christians when we take the eucharist, Batman in the film acts as a necessary, sacrificial presence embedded within the city’s veins (this theme would come to the forefront in the sequel films). By choosing to endure the city’s darkness and bear the weight of its corruption, Batman becomes a constant, tangible reminder that Gotham is not beyond redemption, a sign that even in a city defined by corruption, a commitment to justice and salvation can transform the body and the soul, and infuse a decaying environment with the hope of a new, restored earth.

What are your favorite Christopher Nolan films? Are there any spiritual themes that stand out to you in his works?

I was left pretty speechless after watching The Odyssey, the definition of “epic” from its tactile production and natural filmmaking style to its emotional performances and long runtime. Russell Moore and Cole Burgett have both done an excellent job in breaking down Christian themes from the film, which span everything from the Golden Rule to our innate longing for a true “home.”

While the film’s scope and thematic weight still leave me formulating my full thoughts, The Odyssey reminded me just how well director Christopher Nolan ends his films. He has a real knack for final scenes that simultaneously sum up a film’s themes while also leaving audiences to think further about its ambiguity. In The Odyssey, Odysseus’s (Matt Damon) final line is rife with meaning:

“A new dawn will break over the darkened world, when our mistakes will once again be forgotten.”

I’m always looking for ways to interpret film via scripture and The Odyssey ending is no different. But here, Odysseus’s quote leaves room for two very different interpretations.

First, there’s the pessimistic interpretation: humanity is doomed to forget and repeat our mistakes. Following Oppenheimer, it’s fair to say this is what Nolan thinks to be true. In my review for Nolan’s 2023 Best Picture winner, I wrote, “Oppenheimer leaves us to grapple with humanity’s sin and recklessness, a reminder of our need for a Savior to stop the ‘chain reaction’ of sin.”

The Odyssey is in direct dialogue with that mindset. Not only does the recklessness of Odysseus and his crew set off a chain reaction resulting in their own perilous journey, but their mistakes pave the way for a future of similar destruction. When Damon says “our mistakes will once again be forgotten,” one could argue he fears a future in which people don’t learn lessons from his story and act just as dishonorably as he did, which comes to fruition in Oppenheimer. Or as the writer of Ecclesiastes would say:

“What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done; there is nothing new under the sun. There is no remembrance of those who came before; and of those who will come after there will also be no remembrance by those who follow them.” — ‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭1‬:‭9‬, 11

But while Nolan fears that to be true of humanity, he’s consistently held out hope in his filmography that we can rise above. The Dark Knight trilogy is all about his belief in humanity’s goodness, Interstellar shows humanity fighting for a new dawn to escape “that good night,” and Insomnia ends with its characters embracing the truth by refusing to forget the sins of the past.

In Christian terms, perhaps the new dawn Odysseus speaks of doesn’t mean people will forget their mistakes, but God will. In Isaiah 43:25, God says “I am he who wipes away your sins because of who I am. And so, I will forget the wrongs you have done.” The only hope for mercy and peace is a new dawn in which our sins are forgiven. That’s why it’s justified to still take hope from The Odyssey’s ending, even while heeding its warning:

“Because of the tender mercy of our God, by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven to shine on those living in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the path of peace.” — Luke 1:78-79

Will the rising sun bring destruction or peace? Judgement or mercy? Odysseus (and Christopher Nolan) remains unsure. The choice is ours.

I had the pleasure of joining Critics Choice member Noel Manning on his show, Meet Me at the Movies, last week. And, as we often do, he and I discussed film scores. Our topic this time was crafting the perfect summer movie soundtrack using the music of John Williams.

John Williams is one of the greatest film composers of all time, and his vast music catalogue has already stood the test of time. You can watch the episode here, but if you don’t have time to check it out, I’ve summarized my thoughts below on the eight iconic John Williams film scores that make me think of summer.

Jaws (1975)

When I’m thinking of the summer, it’s hard not to think about Jaws. It’s widely considered the first summer blockbuster, enjoying widespread box office success and cultural fame. Everyone that summer had a fear of going in the water, which is in no small part thanks to John Williams and his iconic two-note shark motif.

It’s fascinating how the shark theme has entered the cultural lexicon and stayed there in a way that you rarely see from a film score. Even with how memorable some of Williams’ other soundtracks are, few have had the cultural staying power of the Jaws music. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly why. I do think the film being such a massive success as a blockbuster is a big part of it. The simplicity of the music helps too (it’s hard to forget a two-note theme). But beyond that, the music is perfectly orchestrated to feel like the perfect representation of a shark: low bass notes and brass stings all ramping up faster and faster to create tension and anxiety.

All this time later, whether someone has seen the film or not, people hear those notes and instantly know it’s a shark. We’ve seen this occasionally with classical music in the past (like how Flight of the Bumblebee has come to represent bees), but it’s rare and remarkable for a film score to inextricably represent the sound of an animal for our culture.

There’s also a calming sea shanty that Williams wrote that comes in at the very end of the film right before the credits roll. After two hours of tense, dramatic shark encounters, it’s the perfect emotional catharsis to see Brody floating on the gentle waves as this beautiful, calming music by Williams enters in the background. The two-note shark motif may be more memorable, but when I’m thinking of summer and looking for something a little less stressful than shark attacks, I turn on those relaxing cues. Williams did a wonderful job providing equal parts tension and calm in his score.

Lincoln (2012)

The music of Lincoln couldn’t be more different from Jaws. But when I’m thinking of summer, especially around the Fourth of July, I often think of patriotic music. What music captures the American spirit? Lincoln is the perfect score to embrace that sense of Americana.

It’s a tender, Aaron Copland-inspired score with lots of rousing woodwinds and patriotic brass (Copland had a piece called “Lincoln Portrait” that feels like a key influence on the film’s music). There’s not much in the way of fanfares or marches in this score, but what it lacks in showiness, it more than makes up for in its simple musical portrayal of American life and reflections on the meaning of freedom.

The Patriot (2000)

The Patriot is the other side of the “patriotic coin” that I mentioned with Lincoln. Whereas Lincoln relies on a calm, reflective tone, The Patriot sounds like something a fife band would have played during the Revolutionary War. Williams relies heavily on energetic flutes and driven snare drums to create a patriotic and inspiring score for the film’s revolutionaries marching into battle.

When considering action epics from this time period, The Patriot is often forgotten (Braveheart and The Last of the Mohicans have enjoyed more extended popularity). But the Williams score paired with Roland Emmerich’s large-scale action direction creates a perfect, summertime feel.

Superman (1978)

It’s amazing how many “firsts” John Williams had. Jaws is often labeled as the first summer blockbuster; he wrote the music for it, and it was immediately mainstream. And then Superman really created what filmmakers and audiences consider the modern superhero formula. Williams wrote a thundering fanfare, beginning with a soft, solo horn melody it before it builds into an epic brass march. What’s more, the love theme is absolutely gorgeous, utilizing soaring strings and woodwinds for Clark Kent and Lois Lane’s relationship. It just goes to prove how John Williams was at the forefront of defining the superhero score.

To this day, Superman reboots can’t escape the original music’s legacy. In Man of Steel (2013), Hans Zimmer doesn’t use the main theme, but is very clearly inspired by it, incorporating much of the same melodic structure. And James Gunn’s Superman (2025) uses a modernized version of Williams’ theme (incorporating electric guitar and synthesizers, but using the same classic theme). Nearly 50 years later, the world still hears Williams’ Superman music and says, “That’s what a superhero should sound like.”

E.T. the Extraterrestrial (1982)

I’d be remiss to write about John Williams without discussing director Steven Spielberg. A number of films that I mention in this blog were directed by Spielberg, and their collaboration has been such a key part of film history in the last 50 years. E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial is a classic 1982 Spielberg film featuring a beautifully emotional John Williams score. It really became the template for what childlike wonder sounds like in family films. Countless future “Amblin-style” films featuring kids on adventures borrowed heavily from the style of E.T.’s score, and many composers still go back to that sound today (A24’s 2025 film The Legend of Ochi has a very similar vibe to the E.T. score).

There’s a famous story with the production of E.T. in which John Williams couldn’t quite time the music he’d written to fit the final 15-minute sequence (the bike chase and E.T.’s goodbye) without it all feeling too rushed. Spielberg was so impacted by the score, he told Williams to record the music as he wanted it, and Spielberg later edited the final scenes to fit around the recorded music.

I would put that ending sequence among the best music and visual combinations in cinema history. It pulls my heartstrings every time – the bikes flying in the sky, E.T. and Elliott saying goodbye, the spaceship ascending. It is absolutely breathtaking, and a special moment of score and visuals combining to tell the perfect story.

Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977)

Close Encounters came out five years before E.T. in 1977 and was overshadowed by a small little film called Star Wars (I’ll discuss that soon). But the Close Encounters score is unique because of its horror leanings, featuring atonal music for much of the runtime. In Close Encounters—especially the first two acts—the audience doesn’t know what to think of this alien presence, and so Williams is using horror scoring techniques to accompany that unease.

But woven throughout the film, Williams hints at a beautiful five-note melody. We hear crowds in India chanting it, machines beeping it, and it becomes a way for humanity to musically communicate with the extraterrestrials. People constantly call music “the universal language.” The truth behind that statement is debatable, but Close Encounters is a perfect filmic example of that being true. How do two completely different species communicate? They communicate via song, and I think that’s beautiful.

When writing the script, Spielberg was inspired by the classic Disney song, “When You Wish Upon a Star,” and asked Williams to incorporate that melody in the score as well. It only appears at the end, but subtly helps convey the themes of wonder and wishes coming true, just like in Pinocchio. I’ve also written a lot about the spiritual themes of Close Encounters; check that out.

Star Wars (1977)

John Williams will forever be associated with Star Wars, one of the defining film scores of cinema history. Much like he did for the superhero genre, Williams’ work on Star Wars became the blueprint for what an epic space opera should sound like. It’s been parodied and imitated countless times, but few have matched the classical brilliance on display here.

What’s particularly impressive about the music of Star Wars is just how many moments stand out. Everything from the opening title crawl to the binary sunset to the Death Star trench run has stayed in public consciousness. It probably is his best score, and most certainly is his best holistic work when you consider his music for the Star Wars saga as a whole.

Williams deserves immense credit for how well he was able to capture George Lucas’ singular vision. Lucas originally planned to use classical music in the film (like 2001: A Space Odyssey), but after a recommendation from Spielberg, Lucas decided to give Williams a chance. You can still hear the classical influences on the first Star Wars score; but even if he took classical inspiration, Williams created a lasting symphonic masterpiece.

Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981)

I’d be remiss not to discuss the Indiana Jones franchise, a series of film scores that simultaneously set the standard for the “action adventure sound,” while simultaneously taking inspiration from the serials of the 1930s and 1940s. It’s not as culturally ingrained as the Jaws theme, but most people could hear the opening melody of Raiders and recognize it as a classic adventure score (and hopefully they would know it was for Indiana Jones).

Similarly to Star Wars, it’s fascinating to hear how Williams has evolved his Indiana Jones music from Raiders of the Lost Ark in 1981 all the way to the fifth installment, Dial of Destiny, in 2023. As Indy has aged, in a way, the theme has aged, too. He’s written some nice, contemplative versions of the theme as well as some grander takes on the instrumentation. The films themselves are set in different time periods, so Williams also uses that as a chance to musically evolve. Some films have the Nazis as the bad guys, later entries have the Soviets as the villains, and seeing how Williams pays tribute to those eras musically has been fantastic. But it all started with Raiders, a triumphant score that truly defined the action-adventure sound.

Bonus Scores

There are some lesser-known films early in Williams’ filmography that I also associate with summertime.

The Cowboys (1972) features a classic Western score in the style of composers like Elmer Bernstein and Aaron Copland. Unfortunately, this released towards the end of the Western popularity period (it was one of John Wayne’s final films) but remains one of the few times Williams has been able to tackle that genre.

The Sugarland Express (1974) stars Goldie Hawn in an early Spielberg film, his first collaboration with Williams. Heavily featuring the harmonica in his music, Williams captures a midwestern Americana feel with ease. I’ve mentioned various types of patriotic and Americana scores in this blog, but his music for Sugarland Express is another unique take on that, embracing the folksy side of American music.

A John Williams Summer Playlist

John Williams’ impact on film (and on my own life!) cannot be overstated. Enjoy this playlist I compiled featuring my favorite cues from all the films mentioned here, and be on the lookout for future “seasonal” film music guides.

The American presidency has long served as a primary vessel for the nation’s collective ideals, anxieties, and moral aspirations. 2026 is the United States Semiquincentennial (more commonly referred to as “America 250”), and the state of the presidential character remains a central fixture of the national consciousness. Cinema, in particular, has acted as a unique medium for defining the best and worst qualities of those that have held office.

While many biopics prioritize policy or political strategy, a distinct subset of presidential films provide insight into various presidents’ spiritual lives. From John Ford’s 1939 classic Young Mr. Lincoln to the upcoming Young Washington, filmmakers have consistently utilized biblical language to demonstrate the moral successes and failures of the nation’s leaders.

By examining the portrayals of faith in these films, a clear pattern emerges for qualities a president should (and shouldn’t) embody if they strive to be a Christian leader.

Young Mr. Lincoln focuses entirely on Lincoln’s life before politics, specifically his time as a lawyer defending two brothers who have been accused of murder. Henry Fonda delivers one of his best performances, making Lincoln feel immensely relatable and down-to-earth while also mythologizing him as a larger than life figure. Behind the camera, Ford furthers this depiction, placing the camera beneath Lincoln to emphasize his height as Fonda towers over the rest of the cast. Even Alfred Newman’s score is effective in humanizing the character.

Lincoln is universally regarded as one of America’s best presidents, so it’s no surprise that he’s depicted with such reverence and likability here. But the specific qualities Ford highlights are admirable and explicitly Christian traits. Lincoln is an advocate for the underrepresented, speaking to the masses about the importance of honesty, kindness, and fairness. The film’s best scene comes far before Lincoln’s time in court, when he simply asks a riotous crowd to show mercy, a speech that feels eerily prescient (though in reality, simply timeless) in today’s divided world.

“Trouble is when men start taking the law into their own hands, they’re just as apt, in all the confusion and fun, to start hanging somebody who’s not a murderer as somebody who is. Then the next thing you know they’re hanging one another just for fun, till it gets to the place where a man can’t pass a tree or look at a rope without feeling uneasy. We seem to lose our heads in times like this. We do things together that we’d be mighty ashamed to do by ourselves. ‘Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.’”

With that single speech, the film provides a wonderful reference point for the Christian virtues most valued in a president. Lincoln in the film models the beatitude he quoted, and in practicing law is focused on justice and righteous judgement.

A focus on justice and advocacy is a characterization modeled consistently across film portrayals of the 16th president. Lincoln (2012) is one of Steven Spielberg’s finest works, with a performance for the ages by Daniel Day-Lewis and a perfect Copland-esque score by John Williams. The film covers the final four months of Lincoln’s life and his efforts in those months to abolish slavery, a subject in and of itself that mirrors Young Mr. Lincoln’s commitment to justice and fairness.

The biblical merits of Lincoln’s fight are perfectly encapsulated by the closing scene, a flashback to his second inaugural address containing three biblical references:

“As was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said “the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.” With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation’s wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and a lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations.”

These qualities aren’t exclusive to Abraham Lincoln either. Amistad (1997) is another Spielberg film focused on a former president’s abolitionist efforts. The film follows a Supreme Court battle after Mende tribesmen abducted for the slave trade managed to gain control of their captors’ ship, only to be found and captured by the U.S.

While Amistad suffers when compared to Spielberg’s surrounding work (released between Schindler’s List and Saving Private Ryan), it serves as an emotional and beautifully shot legal drama, with top tier performances from Anthony Hopkins and Djimon Hounsou.

Hopkins portrays John Quincy Adams after his presidency when he was practicing law (were all great presidents lawyers?). While initially hesitant to serve as defense attorney and ruin his image as a moderate, Adams is eventually persuaded to help those “without hope” such as the Africans on trial.

“What are we to do with this embarrassing Declaration of Independence?” Adams mockingly asks. “‘All men are created equal ... unalienable rights ... life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness?’ I have a modest suggestion -- why not just tear it up?”

In just a few films, a clear picture is forming for what filmmakers seem to believe is the heart of a good president from a biblical standpoint. A good president should be an advocate for those that lack one. A good president should be both fair and merciful. A good president should bind up the nation’s wounds, care for the widow and orphan, and strive to achieve peace (though that may mean righteous conflict).

Of course, we can learn just as much about what makes a good president by observing what makes a flawed one.

Oliver Stone’s Nixon (1995) stars Anthony Hopkins yet again, this time as the 37th president, and from the beginning frames his deficiencies through a biblical lens. The film’s opening text is Matthew 16:26, “What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul?”

Much focus is given to Nixon’s childhood in the film, with his Quaker mother frequently warning him to stay focused on the Bible and not on worldly things. When a reporter later asks his mother if Nixon would make a good president, she responds unsmilingly, “...if he’s on God’s side, yes.”

The film provides viewers with a sympathetic, yet unflinchingly brutal look at Nixon, a man conflicted in his faith, his mission, and his duty. When his Chief of Staff warns about obstruction of justice, Nixon bites back, “It’s got nothing to do with justice. I suppose you thought the Presidency was above this sort of thing.” While Lincoln fought for justice, Nixon here finds it a nuisance.

The film makes clear that Nixon considers himself a Christian, but his faith has not manifested in his works. One pivotal scene depicts Nixon attempting to connect with youth visiting the Lincoln Memorial, only to digress into admonishment. “Ending the war and cleaning up the air and the cities, feeding the poor ... none of it is going to satisfy the spiritual hunger we all have, finding a meaning to this life.” He knows that faith in God will satisfy the country’s spiritual hunger, but has somehow failed to connect the fact that a faith lived out means ending the war and feeding the poor.

My friends, what good is it to say you have faith, when you don’t do anything to show you really do have faith? Can this kind of faith save you? If you know someone who doesn’t have any clothes or food, you shouldn’t just say, “I hope all goes well for you. I hope you will be warm and have plenty to eat.” What good is it to say this, unless you do something to help? Faith that doesn’t lead us to do good deeds is all alone and dead! – James 2:14-17

If one looks again at the beatitudes, Nixon’s presidency is portrayed in Stone’s film as a failure of Matthew 5:5, “Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.”

Viewing the role of president (or any politician) as a Christian vocation is fraught with danger, too easily warped into the idea that those politicians speak for God or should form a theocracy. But at the same time, if Christians are striving to make God’s kingdom come “on earth as it is in heaven,” then Christian leaders should seek to lead in a Christlike way.

Countless films demonstrate this presidential imperative, not to force Christian hegemony on the United States, but to lead in such a way that embodies the values Christians themselves should embody.

Path to War (2002) shows Lyndon B. Johnson agonizing over his administration’s escalation of the Vietnam War, repeatedly saying he wants peace (“Blessed are the peacemakers,” Christ would warn him), but forced deeper into the conflict. LBJ (2016) focuses more positively on Johnson’s Civil Rights activism, embodying the same advocacy seen in films such as Lincoln and Amistad.

The Front Runner (2018) shows charismatic senator Gary Hart’s presidential campaign fall apart after allegations of an extramarital affair. And Oliver Stone’s W. (2008) shows George W. Bush’s conversion to Christianity and subsequent sobriety as almost a prerequisite to becoming fit for the presidency.

This cinematic trend certainly does not argue for a return to the Moral Majority era of the late 20th century. However, it highlights a cultural nostalgia for a leadership model (however fictionalized it may now be via film) grounded in recognizable moral guardrails.

In Jesus and the Powers, Michael Bird and N.T. Wright lay out the way citizens and leaders alike should properly live out God’s will on the political stage. Fascinatingly, it mirrors exactly what can be found in Young Mr. Lincoln and the other films mentioned above:

God wants his world to be properly run, but the standard for ‘properly’ is that of Psalm 72: the wise, healing justice of the Messiah’s rule, caring for the poor and needy, confronting and overthrowing the bullies and the oppressors, opening the way for the whole world to be filled with God’s glory.

That final phrase might be the most important. While nearly every president has claimed Christianity as their religious affiliation, a president doesn’t have to be a Christian. But when voting for and evaluating leaders, Christians should be asking a simple question: is this person opening the way for the world to be filled with God’s glory?

Welcome to this month’s Cinema Snapshots! At the beginning of each month, I reflect on what I watched the prior month and provide a quick “snapshot” of my thoughts on those films. So without further ado, here are my Cinema Snapshots for June 2026.

Disclosure Day

A cybersecurity expert becomes a whistleblower after uncovering secrets about aliens, putting him on the run from a corporation. Meanwhile, a meteorologist experiencing strange phenomena joins forces with him to prove there’s life beyond our understanding.

My favorite film of 2026 so far! Steven Spielberg has a long history of making films about aliens, and oftentimes those films have rich metaphors for faith and the divine. If Close Encounters of the Third Kind is God speaking with Moses on Mt. Sinai (and I argued as much in my piece last month), Disclosure Day is Pentecost. God sends down His spirit for disciples to speak in tongues and share the Truth with the world. It’s a tense, emotional, and riveting watch, with a gorgeous score by John Williams.

Check it out while you can in theaters, and read my spoiler-filled roundtable discussion once you’ve seen it. “And it will be in the last days, says God, that I will pour out my Spirit on all people; then your sons and your daughters will prophesy, your young men will see visions, and your old men will dream dreams.” — ‭‭Acts‬ ‭2‬:‭17‬

★★★★★

The Sheep Detectives

George Hardy is a shepherd who reads detective novels to his beloved sheep every night, assuming they can’t possibly understand. But when a mysterious incident disrupts life on the farm, the sheep realize they must become the detectives. As they follow the clues and investigate human suspects, they prove that even sheep can be brilliant crime-solvers.

I was crying by the end of The Sheep Detectives, and only partially because this was my son Rory’s first trip to the movies. This is a fantastic family film, unafraid to confront themes of death and belonging but also hilarious from start to finish. And that’s to say nothing of the theological depth, taking full advantage of the good shepherd symbolism. I described it to my friends as Knives Out meets Paddington, which is just as fun as you’d imagine. You can watch the film on PVOD or in select theaters.

★★★★☆

Power Ballad

When Rick, a past-his-prime wedding singer, meets fading boy-band star Danny during a gig, the two bond over music and a late-night jam session. But when Danny turns one of Rick’s songs into the hit that reignites his career, Rick sets out to reclaim the recognition he believes he deserves - even if it means risking everything he cares about.

Power Ballad is the kind of dramedy we rarely get anymore, featuring a unique story packed with emotion and humor. Paul Rudd and Nick Jonas both provide great performances and have a surprising natural chemistry together, and the song that the film is centered around is genuinely catchy and believable as a smash hit. The ending moved me to tears, and I always appreciate when filmmakers know how to properly utilize music to tell a story.

★★★☆☆

Premarital

Pastor Stewart Whitaker learns his daughter’s fiancé isn’t a believer just days before their wedding. His clumsy plan to convert him unravels into a funny, heartfelt clash of faith, family image, hypocrisy, and truth in small-town America.

Some really committed performances in Premarital (especially Jim O’Heir) save its shaky production value and a story that’s a little too scattered. For better and for worse you can tell the film is written by an exvangelical. The screenplay pushes boundaries that will scare off some religious crowds (including some language), but is also extremely understanding of Christian beliefs and believers. It covers a multitude of difficult topics for Christian communities and doesn’t have any easy answers (the prodigal son conversation towards the film’s end was beautiful though). Premarital is at its best when it acts as a Christian version of Father of the Bride; the heart really is a pastor struggling to come to terms with his daughter’s impending marriage. A little more focus on that and this film could have been really special; as it is though it’s still an enjoyable watch.

★★★☆☆

Star Wars: The Mandalorian and Grogu

The evil Empire has fallen, and Imperial warlords remain scattered throughout the galaxy. As the fledgling New Republic works to protect everything the Rebellion fought for, they have enlisted the help of legendary Mandalorian bounty hunter Din Djarin and his young apprentice Grogu.

The Mandalorian and Grogu is not as chaotic or pandering as The Rise of Skywalker, but it’s equally as disappointing. It feels manufactured to be the safest, least offensive product possible, while barely containing a story or characters. The actors seem uninvested, the action is pretty paint-by-numbers, and the score, while engaging, often feels disconnected from the film it’s a part of. Vaguely “Star Wars-y” things happen and then the film is over.

★★☆☆☆

Obsession

After breaking the mysterious “One Wish Willow” to win his crush’s heart, a hopeless romantic finds himself getting exactly what he asked for but soon discovers that some desires come at a dark, sinister price.

Obsession has been the surprise breakout hit of the year, made for less than $1 million but already outgrossing the new Star Wars film. I finally had the chance to check it out, and while it may not have lived up to my astronomical expectations given its reception so far, I have to admit it’s a really good horror film.

It’s a pretty straightforward story, but is surprisingly well paced for a “gimmick” that could easily get old fast. Director Curry Barker (best known for his hilarious YouTube comedy sketches) has a solid command of the camera, properly utilizing escalating tension and scares in combination with some impressive performances. Not the scariest film of the 2020s as some have sold it, but a great watch nonetheless.

★★★☆☆

Gail Daughtry and the Celebrity Sex Pass

Midwestern bride-to-be Gail Daughtry has a “free celebrity pass” agreement with her fiancé — who uses it. With her relationship in crisis, Gail sets out on an epic journey through Hollywood to even the scales.

Gail Daughtry and the Celebrity Sex Pass is the most delightfully absurd film I’ve seen this year. It’s loaded with insane gags, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it cutaways, and hilariously committed performances, all with a surprising amount of heart at the center.

I especially loved the ways the screenplay riffs on The Wizard of Oz, adding a lot of implicit meaning to the story without needing to linger too long on those points. Gail Daughtry (the name itself a play on Oz’s Dorothy Gale) is a girl from Kansas who goes to L.A. to meet her own personal wizard, Jon Hamm; along the way she encounters a bunch of lovable misfits, all with wishes of their own that they hope Hamm can grant. Hollywood has always been the city of dreams and stars, complete with deified celebrities, and acts as the perfect stand-in for the land of Oz and Emerald City.

Gail’s wide-eyed naïveté (played with a lovable innocence by Zoey Deutch) is the perfect contrast to the chaotic environment and raunchy script, and the supporting cast all find their perfect comedic niche. It’s fun, it’s heartfelt, and did I mention Fred Melamed is the narrator? Be sure to check this one out.

★★★☆☆

From the Archives

Jocko Sims wasn’t originally planning to be a part of Netflix’s adaptation of Little House on the Prairie. While he enjoyed the 1970s television series, he didn’t want to be involved in remaking such a beloved property.

But after reading the script, he had a change of heart. This wasn’t a retelling of the original show, but an effort to more accurately reflect the tone, characters, and events of Laura Ingalls Wilder’s 1930s book series. For Sims in particular, that meant stepping into the shoes of a real-life historical figure, Dr. George Tann, a Black pioneer and physician who saved the lives of the Ingalls family, but was absent from the 1970s adaptation.

Sims and I recently spoke about the upcoming series and the exciting discovery of bringing a forgotten Black pioneer into the spotlight. During our conversation, which has been edited for length and clarity, we discussed how Sims handles the creative weight of playing a real-life figure, the unexpected confirmation that kept him on the path of acting, and why this timeless story of American perseverance is arriving at the exact moment audiences need it most.

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I wanted to start off and ask you: The Little House on the Prairie book series and the ‘70s show are both pretty iconic in their own right. What made you want to sign on to another retelling of such a classic story?

The first show was interesting because I remember watching it growing up, and I thought it was very good and a feel-good show. Full transparency, I didn’t want to be a part initially of rebooting or redoing something that was so beloved. So, I was pleasantly surprised when I read the script and saw that this was not a retelling of the first show. This is its own thing, and this is based on the books that Laura Ingalls Wilder wrote. So, that was exciting to discover.

And through the process of auditioning, discovering that it was based on a true story; discovering that Dr. George Tann was a real-life Black doctor in the 1800s who was friends and neighbors with the Ingalls family, who saved the Ingalls’ lives when they all got malaria, and who delivered baby Caroline... Just to find out that this was a true story—and that people already love the characters, and Dr. George Tann is in the books—it means a lot to me. I’m very excited; I was thrilled to jump at the opportunity.

I was really struck, because I had grown up watching the show, but this was my introduction to the real-life figure of Dr. Tann. Having a Black physician in the 1860s could not have been common, and that really left an impression on me. Clearly, it left an impression on Laura since she included him in the book and he was such an integral part of their lives. Did his importance weigh on you during that shoot?

Yes, absolutely. I mean, the fact that he was a real person and that his family undoubtedly is still out there, I wanted to do it justice. But how I approach doing his role—and I feel like this is my first time playing a real historical figure—I wanted to do my research to learn what I could, what was available, though there’s not a whole lot of information out there.

But then from there, I get on the set and I let it all go, and I let it fall into the subconscious, so as to not worry or stress or be filled with pressure while doing it. It was an interesting first time for me stepping into these shoes, and I have really enjoyed the experience thus far.

Whenever you are on set, how do you balance that weight of researching and doing a real-life person justice, but also making this character your own and doing it justice in the context of the show?

I think the research part of it for me is, more than anything, just fun. Learning that he owned several properties, that he came from Philadelphia, and that he left the city because he felt after the war that the city life felt too small, that he had a wife perhaps that he left behind... All of these things that you discover just make it so much more fun when you’re building the character.

After I have the backdrop of all of those character traits, once I get on the set, I focus more than anything on the scene and what the objective of the scene is. It sounds cliché, but I’ve worked with scene partners who don’t take that approach; they think about what they’re going to do and they think about the character so much, and it’s like we can’t forget that this scene is part of an episode, this episode is part of a season, a season is part of a series, and there’s a message and a point to it that the writers intended.

So, I often love working with the writers to see what the point of the scene is, what the intention is, and what the intention of my character is. That’s where the majority of my focus goes on the days that we shoot.

I love that. I want to pivot a little bit. A key part of your story in this season is dealing with the fever that’s starting to spread to some of the characters. Sickness is something that we can all relate to, but watching it as a viewer now, it struck me how much more I could relate to this just a few years removed from the COVID-19 pandemic. Did living through a pandemic impact your performance with that urgency of trying to help and inform the town?

Absolutely. Had I not lived through the pandemic, I would not have known the gravity of a situation like that. It’s very unfortunate what happened to all of us around the world during COVID, but it was very informative when you’re dealing with an episode where there’s an unknown disease going around and you’re just trying to quickly find a cure to save folks’ lives. So, yeah, it’s definitely an influence.

I saw online that back in high school you had originally thought about becoming a doctor. Is that true?

Absolutely.

You’ve now portrayed doctors in multiple shows now, including this one. Do you ever have any “what if” feelings whenever you’re portraying this, like, “In another life, that could have been me”?

No, I’m very thankful. I wanted to be a doctor or a dentist, like you mentioned. I had a medical symbol on my high school ring; that’s how sure I was. Then I get to college and decide I didn’t want to be in school for the next 12 years. So, I took a theater course because I’d always been creative, and I fell in love with it.

I had a dentist that I would go to, and I told him that. This was right when I had made this decision, and it was my first year in Los Angeles, and I was still fascinated with the “doctorness” of the dental experience. I was talking to him and I said, “Man, I was going to be a dentist or doctor, and I don’t know, I’m hoping I made the right decision.” And he said, “You absolutely did.” I never forgot him saying that. Because here’s a guy who had a practice and was doing well, but he said, “If I had a chance to do it all over again, I would pursue something creative.”

Of course, not every doctor feels that way, and not every dentist is going to feel that way. But I think it was serendipitous. It was the perfect timing for me to be there with him to tell me that and give me confirmation. So, I’ve never had any regret, feelings, or “what ifs,” because I’ve had an exciting career and life thus far. It’s been great, and we’re just getting started.

You got the affirmation you needed at the time. And in the first episode, your character offers some really pivotal words of advice and affirmation to the Ingalls, telling them, “You can’t do this alone. It’s okay to ask for help.” That speech really left an impact on me, especially with how isolationist things can feel today. Do you feel like that message is an urgent, important one right now?

I think it is, and I’m glad you bring that up. I really do like that scene, in part because story-wise, when you think of Little House on the Prairie, you think of family and happiness, but the reality is—and you can see this in Laura’s books—it was rough and it was dangerous. In that same scene, Dr. Tann talks about having seen families taken by wolves, freezing to death, starving to death.

But I think this is very timely because as a nation, we’re very divided. You feel this spirit of Laura Ingalls Wilder’s books because even then, when she wrote the books—I think it was during the 1930s, the Great Depression—during that time it was very essential to give people hope, and those books did just that. That’s why from the beginning they were very successful. And so here we are, all this time later and all of these decades removed from the first series. Considering the state that our nation is in as far as divisiveness, I think it’s perfect timing. I think it’s a great message for unity. I think it’s a great message to say, “You don’t need to do this alone. You can’t do this alone.” I think it’s right on time.

It’s right on time. It’s incredible how these messages are always so timely, but also everlasting, too. It seems like most of your film and television roles are set in the present day or maybe the more recent past. What’s the biggest difference for you working in a period piece set 150 years ago as opposed to working on something set in today’s world?

Well, I can tell you from a production standpoint, it’s a lot more costly. Depending on the type of show, if you have cars, you have period cars, and those are expensive to rent, and then the costumes are expensive to make. Sometimes you don’t have cars, you just have carriages. Where do you find an old carriage? You have to either find someone to build it, or if there’s only two left in the world, they’re going to charge you an arm and a leg to do it. I love producing and writing, and that’s where I want to take my career next. So, as soon as you ask me that, that’s what I think.

As far as approaching it with a character, I think it’s always a little more fun because you have this period to draw from. When you’re doing something contemporary that takes place present day, what are you copying? You’re not, which is fine; you’re just living and breathing and bringing your own life experiences to it. But when you are playing a character from say the ‘60s or ‘70s, to be able to go back and read books, or look at the sort of colors that they wore, or think about politically where the frame of mind people were in, it’s always a little more rewarding for actors to jump into period pieces.

It goes back to you talking about how much fun it is for you to be able to research up front. I’ve got one more question for you: what is your biggest hope for people viewing the show? What do you want them to take away about the story and about your character?

I hope that people understand that Dr. George Tann was a real man, a real person. Hopefully, thanks to Rebecca Sonnenshine, who was our showrunner and is fantastic, and thanks to her, Netflix, and CBS Studios, people will be inspired to tell more stories of Black Americans who were pioneers and who were beloved by their communities. And not always just Black communities; Dr. George Tann was loved by the Osage and other Indigenous peoples. If it had not been for him, there would be no Little House on the Prairie, because he saved the lives of the family of the woman who wrote the books and told us this amazing story.

Outside of that, I hope that people gather around their televisions and repeatedly binge this story because it’s really a great show to watch with your family. I’ve seen all the episodes and it just feels so darn good. So, I hope this is an opportunity—because we’re all on our phones all the time, and I’m the biggest culprit of that—to put your phones down. Unless you want to watch the show on the Netflix app on your phone, that’s fine! But gather around with your folks and enjoy yourselves.

Absolutely. I’ve already been able to watch the show; it’s a wonderful season. I’m excited to rewatch with my wife, too, and maybe some more seasons after that. We’ll see.

Absolutely. Definitely. Season two has already been picked up.

That’s great to hear!

That happened months ago, before anyone had seen season one. So, that was a testament to the job that we did, as far as Netflix and CBS. They really loved it.

That’s got to be so encouraging.

Ready for the world to see. Yeah, absolutely.

The following was first published on Film Fisher.

In 2023’s Barbie, the titular character and her inventor, Ruth Handler, share a special moment together in an ethereal, light-filled kitchen. Handler extends a cup of tea across a table toward Barbie (Margot Robbie), and the framing deliberately invokes Michelangelo’s The Creation of Adam. “That’s the Sistine Chapel shot,” says director Greta Gerwig. “That’s her hand reaching to Margot’s [like] God to Adam, giving her life.”

This moment’s significance may be easy to miss, but Barbie plays with the language of creation, fall, and identity for its entire runtime. And it is not alone. Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein, which arrived two years later and boasts nine Academy Award nominations, including a Best Picture nod, is doing something remarkably similar under very different conditions: exploring what happens when a created being looks at the world it was placed in, looks at the one who placed it there, and asks the question that neither creator wants to answer.

What was I made for?

The two films couldn’t be more tonally opposite, yet, at their core, they are telling the same story. So why does Hollywood keeps returning to this story? And what does this reveal about how the world understands God?

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The Creatures

Barbieland is, without much subtlety, the Garden of Eden. Production designer Sarah Greenwood constructs it as a hyperreal diorama, using highly saturated pinks and impossible geometry to depict a seemingly perfect paradise in which the Barbies do not age or suffer. Every day begins and ends the same way, down to the same catchy song that plays over their morning routines. It is, in the language of Genesis, “good.” Or at least it looks that way.

That all changes when Stereotypical Barbie thinks about death. From there, the imperfections multiply hilariously (including flat feet and cellulite, gasp!) until she is no longer fit for the paradise of Barbieland. Much like Adam and Eve’s sin introduced imperfection into a perfect world, Barbie’s “imperfection” means she cannot stay. She must leave the garden.

But here is where the film diverges from Genesis in a telling way. When she finally reaches the real world – a world of confusion, heartbreak, malice, and greed – the film treats it as more real, more worth living in than the paradise she left behind. Gerwig documents her arrival in Los Angeles with a kind of double vision, including a stark contrast in cinematography and production design. We see how strange this world looks to Barbie, but also how much stranger, in retrospect, Barbieland now appears. Barbieland isn’t treated as a perfect, heavenly realm, but as a naive and silly fantasy.

It’s also worth noting that sin doesn’t only enter Barbieland through Barbie. Ken (Ryan Gosling) travels to the real world and comes back corrupted by pride, implementing a patriarchal ideology into Barbieland, tainting the garden through his own encounter with the outside world. Ken unwittingly acts as the serpent here, tempting the innocent residents of Barbieland with promises of knowledge and power.

As the film goes on and Barbie learns more about herself, humanity, and the world, Barbie discovers that she cannot want only the good parts. Imperfections are not flaws that hide her meaning; they are the meaning.

Meanwhile, Frankenstein is the film Guillermo del Toro has been building toward his entire career. He has always been, at his core, a filmmaker of creatures who are more human than the humans (see The Shape of Water or Pinocchio). And like much of his filmography, Frankenstein is less interested in viewing its monster with horror than with tenderness.

The prosthetic design by Mike Hill reflects this shift in focus. “I didn’t want him to look like a monster,” Hill states. “I wanted him to have these geometric shapes, almost mechanically stitched together, so when you saw him, you’d think, ‘Oh, no, this is not an accident. Somebody put this man together.’” The Creature is, visually, the most careful thing Victor has ever made. And he is also, immediately and obviously, a person, not a thing.

Frankenstein’s Creature (Jacob Elordi) lives the early parts of his conscious life in a dungeon beneath Victor’s tower, damp and cold and lit only by circular apertures in the ceiling through which thin shafts of light descend from above. Cinematographer Dan Laustsen shoots this space in deep focus to further emphasize the Creature’s isolation registers, showcasing the cruelty and loneliness of the hell he lives in, reaching periodically toward those circles of light, the heaven where his creator lives, absent from the Creature’s life.

Victor destroys his tower in an attempt to kill the Creature, a scene that feels equal parts Sodom and Gomorrah and the Great Flood. Fiery flames and explosions rock the tower while rising waters nearly drown the Creature in the dungeon. Narrowly escaping, the Creature finds comfort and companionship in a blind man in a forest cottage. Del Toro treats these scenes as a deliberate visual rebuke to everything that came before. Where Victor’s tower is shot in a wide, cold, and dark manner, the blind man’s cottage is warm, small, and intimate, filled with the vibrant greens of the surrounding forest. The Creature reads everything the blind man has, finding parallels to his own creation in the creation of the first humans.

“I read my first story- and it was the first story. I read about a man named Adam and a woman named Eve- about their time in the first garden, and I was in that garden. And then I read about the rise of rival cities and the collapse of a tower and the wrath of a God.” — The Creature, Frankenstein

When the Creature finally confronts Victor, having learned the origins of his creation and the identity of his creator, it once again resembles the Bible’s creation story: “You made Someone. Why? I do not know. You gave me no reason nor offered meaning. I have but this sole petition, creator... even beasts have a mate. Why should I be alone?” But while the God of Genesis realized this need before man did (Genesis 2:18: “It is not good for man to be alone”), Victor refuses to recognize the needs or even the purpose of his creation.

And that brings us to the flawed creators and stewards present in Barbie and Frankenstein.

The Creators

A crucial connection and distinction between these two films is the nature of their creators’ failures.

Victor Frankenstein (Oscar Isaac) fails from the beginning, a characterization Del Toro is explicit and, ultimately, too insistent about. Victor is cold, self-serving, and frankly manic in his pursuit of mastery over death, a hunger the film traces back to his father’s cold discipline and his own ambition.

Isaac’s performance ventures a bit too far into caricature compared to the nuanced character originally created by Mary Shelley. Victor’s tragic losses in life and driven persistence are the qualities of a flawed man that the audience should feel at least somewhat sympathetic toward, but in the film Victor is simply a cruel and uncaring creator that models his own father’s abusive traits. The result is a structural problem: the film’s first half following Victor functions not as a parallel perspective on the same tragedy but as a cruel prologue to the only POV that del Toro cares about: the Creature’s. It’s a unique take on the story, but the film pays a price for it: we never love Victor enough to understand him as creator or grieve his lack of repentance.

In Barbie, Ruth Handler is presented with warmth and a kind of distant wisdom. Barbie approaches her with genuine awe, uncertain and reverent in her presence. The aforementioned “Sistine Chapel shot” is genuinely reverent; the humor and ironic self-awareness that much of the comedic film relies upon is absent here.

But Barbie’s creator exists on two levels in this film, and the second level is Mattel, the corporate institution built in the creator’s name. The executives (led by a goofy and overdramatic Will Ferrell) spend most of the film chasing Barbie down, desperate to return her to Barbieland, restore her marketability, and eliminate the anomaly she has become. They are less concerned with Barbie’s flourishing than with Barbie’s compliance.

Victor, Ruth, and Mattel’s boardroom are all different flavors of a failed creator. Victor fails through what he is: cold, reckless, a man who “had never considered what would come after creation” (his words). He is a creator who never cared about the created, and del Toro never lets us forget this.

Mattel, by contrast, fails through what it has become. Ruth never foresaw the extent of her creation’s impact, and after her inevitable passing, Mattel monetized her original intention until it was functionally unrecognizable from the outside. It is an organization that has lost the spirit of its founding in favor of profit.

Ultimately, both Victor and Mattel respond in the same way when their creation doesn’t turn out the way they hoped: “We must put this [Creature] back in the box.”

The Savior

This reading of the films creates an unsubtle parallel to the church: a corporation that hunts down non-conformists rather than loving them, that treats questions as threats and imperfection as liability, that defines acceptable behavior entirely in terms of what is useful to the institution. These qualities are recognizable to anyone who has encountered organized religion in its more flawed state. Del Toro makes the same observation through Victor himself. Victor built his entire life around gaining mastery over life and death, and the result is a being made with extraordinary craft but no love, placed in a dungeon and punished for not developing quickly enough.

When the church has functioned this way – when it has been retributive or self-serving rather than a faithful, loving steward – we should not be surprised that the world writes stories about righteous rebellion. Christians have shown them a flawed image of God. They believed it.

So countless viewers ask alongside Barbie and the Creature...“What was I made for?”

These films among others (Poor Things, Ex Machina, The Truman Show, Wish) suggest that secular culture’s answer to this question has been shaped, more than Christians would like to admit, by religious institutions that looked less like a father running to his child than like a boardroom managing their assets. More and more films are pointing out the perceived flaws of the Creator and asserting that human autonomy and rebellion are the rightful response as a result.

Both films do end with their created beings returning to their creators, but only for a final confrontation. Barbie sees another vision of Ruth Handler, and when given a choice between Barbieland and the real world, chooses mortality. The Creature finds Victor on his deathbed and chooses forgiveness, calling Victor his father for the first and only time in the film and saying “Rest now. We can both be human now.” After that, the creation is left to fend for itself. Ruth’s apparition vanishes, Victor dies, and Barbie and the Creature must, as Frankenstein’s ending text muses, “brokenly live on.”

If the world’s image of God and the church looks like a mad scientist that abandons us and a corporate boardroom that controls us, then perhaps Christians have been a poor witness. What neither Gerwig nor del Toro can offer (because neither Mattel nor Victor can offer it) is a perfect creator who, like in the parable of the prodigal son, is watching the road and lovingly runs to embrace their creation. The answer is a church that preaches and models this image of a Creator, the One who not only made us, but ran to find us after we wandered off.

“But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.” — Luke 15:20

This article was written for the Arts & Faith Top 25 Films Directed by Women.

The story and significance of Hypocrites is best told in the context of its maker, writer and director Lois Weber.

Weber first began working in the film industry in 1907 (under fellow Arts and Faith nominee Alice Guy-Blaché no less). In the ensuing years, she would establish herself as not only the most important woman director of the silent era, but one of the foremost creative voices of the time, alongside the likes of Cecil B. DeMille and D.W. Griffith.

Her 1915 classic, Hypocrites, was provocative, controversial, shocking, and innovative, but perhaps most importantly, marked the first feature-length film ever directed by an American woman. In the film, a medieval monk’s unveiled sculpture of a “naked Truth” sparks a riot, followed by a parallel narrative where he is reimagined as a 1910 Protestant pastor preaching to his congregation before being guided in a dream through a series of vignettes by a ghostly, nude personification of Truth.

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Compositionally, Hypocrites represents many of Weber’s signatures as a director. Her 1913 short film Suspense is often credited as the first film to utilize a split-screen technique, and that same year, her short The Rosary framed film scenes through circular matte shots inside a beaded rosary necklace. These pioneering techniques are evident throughout Hypocrites, with some shots designed as if the audience is looking through a window or picture frame. Beyond merely innovative, this framing adds to the feeling of the pastor (and the audience) being an onlooker in the visions revealed by the “naked Truth.”

The nudity of Truth is an important part of Hypocrites’ legacy. The first non-pornographic depiction of nudity in film, the concept for the unclothed character (and the film as a whole) was not sexual in nature, but was based on an Adolphe Faugeron painting. Despite its artistic merit, Hypocrites faced a two-month delay by the National Board of Review of Motion Pictures, was banned in Ohio, and caused riots in New York. The film was eventually released to great financial and critical success, thanks to “Weber’s sincerity and reputation, [which] allowed her to use something that in the hands of a male director would have been considered scandalous and immoral” (Kino Lorber).

That sincerity is a key part of Weber’s legacy as an artist and unlocks the film’s meaning. Weber saw movies as “a vehicle for evangelism,” sharing in an interview, “In moving pictures I have found my life’s work. I find at once an outlet for my emotions and my ideals. I can preach to my heart’s content.” Sadly, that sincerity lost its appeal by the 1920s, as Jazz Age audiences found her moral films old-fashioned and preferred a more carefree kind of entertainment.

The hypocrisy on display in Hypocrites is multi-faceted and even metatextual. Early on, fellow monks treat their monastery as an irreverent social gathering rather than a place of prayer and worship. When the righteous monk unveils his statue of the naked Truth, impressive panning and tracking shots reveal everyone in attendance is aghast, from scholars to nuns to royalty. They all may claim to pursue truth in some shape or form, but when actually confronted with Truth, they riot and rebel.

The film jumps to a modern congregation hearing a sermon on hypocrisy, and their reactions are just as poor. Some are merely bored by the lecture, while others gossip, taking offense and calling for the pastor’s resignation. During a dream sequence, Truth reveals the endless hypocrisies of the modern world. A politician promising honesty but accepting bribes. An unfaithful husband. An immodest group of youths.

Arguably though, the hypocrisy implicates the pastor himself. In his dream, he summits a mountain in pursuit of Truth but refuses to help others, whether it’s a family trying to carry their child to Truth, or a woman hanging on the edge of a cliff and begging for his hand. Is he modeling Luke 14:33 in a relentless pursuit of God’s truth? Or is he in danger of a Matthew 25:45 condemnation? “Whenever you failed to help any of my people, you failed to do it for me.”

The question of hypocrisy even extends to the audience. Are we guilty of modeling the hypocritical behaviors on display in the congregants? Have we been the self-righteous pastor, more interested in lecturing lost souls than saving them? Or are we perhaps even offended by the filmmaking itself, so turned off by the display of nudity that we nullify its message about Truth?

It seems in any form and at any age in history, the naked Truth is offensive to many, and as such, the film tests its audience’s own assumptions on truth and hypocrisy. In the words of Weber, “Hypocrites is not a slap at any church or creed - it is a slap at hypocrites, and its effectiveness is shown by the outcry amongst those it hits hardest, to have the film stopped.”

In one final and ironic twist of hypocrisy, producers and audiences alike that had once championed Weber’s filmic mission for truth gradually rejected her didactic style until she died bankrupt and relatively unknown in 1939. When asked a few years before her death to offer advice to women seeking to enter the industry, she curtly replied: “Don’t try it. You’ll never get away with it.” Thankfully, for a time, Weber did get away with it, and her evangelical efforts in film endure via Hypocrites more than 100 years later.

In addition to participating on this year’s Arts & Faith jury (you can read more of my thoughts here) was honored to edit and write music for this tribute video about the 25 winners.

Welcome to this month’s Cinema Snapshots! At the beginning of each month, I reflect on what I watched the prior month and provide a quick “snapshot” of my thoughts on those films. So without further ado, here are my Cinema Snapshots for May 2026.

The Drama

A happily engaged couple is put to the test when an unexpected turn sends their wedding week off the rails.

Don’t get me wrong, Zendaya is a wonderful actress. But Robert Pattinson truly has become one of our finest actors of the day, offering some incredibly line deliveries and reactions in The Drama.

The middle of the film starts to get repetitive, but it’s well-made, has a lot to say about the commitment of love, and features some innovative editing choices. Good watch!

★★★★☆

Death by Lightning

The story of James Garfield, who rose from obscurity to become America’s 20th President — and Charles Guiteau, the man who assassinated him.

I don’t often review television or mini series, but occasionally, one leaves me speechless. This year, it’s been Death by Lightning. It shows a world full of opportunity but also of rejection. A political system in which anyone can be elected but can just as easily be manipulated. A society in which kindness and compassion can do so much, but not nearly enough. Set in the 1880s, the show demonstrates just how little things have changed in the American political system.

What more can I say? It has a great cast and is based on a remarkable true story. I didn’t know I needed a spiritual sequel to Hamilton, but here we are.

★★★★★ | Watch now on Netflix

Mother Mary

Long-buried wounds rise to the surface when iconic pop star Mother Mary reunites with her estranged best friend and former costume designer Sam Anselm on the eve of her comeback performance.

The film nearly lost me in the middle, but a good first act and great ending more than win out. Director David Lowery is a remarkable visual storyteller and the shots of the red “ghost” are instantly iconic.

I suspect there are one thousand interpretations of the film’s meaning (and I’m not even sure Lowery had an exact one in mind). But I kept coming back to the concept of God as the dressmaker. It’s not a perfect metaphor and requires some stretches, but the film has a lot to say about a broken person returning to their “Maker” in hopes of healing and restoration.

★★★★☆

Tuner

A talented piano tuner’s life is turned upside down when he discovers that his meticulous skills for tuning pianos can equally be applied to cracking safes.

The surprise of 2026 is Tuner, a boldly edited, wonderfully performed, and sharply written crime drama. Stars Leo Woodall and Havana Rose Liu share incredible chemistry, and Dustin Hoffman’s supporting role is brief but powerful. Tuner succeeds in large part due to how great they all are together.

And, of course, I love a film that works in unique musical qualities. Not only is the soundtrack great, but the premise revolving around a piano tuner immediately drew me in. You probably won’t see much promotion for this film, but I highly recommend it.

★★★★☆

Michael

The story of Michael Jackson, one of the most influential artists the world has ever known, and his life beyond the music. His journey from the discovery of his extraordinary talent as the lead of the Jackson Five, to the visionary artist whose creative ambition fueled a relentless pursuit to become the biggest entertainer in the world, highlighting both his life off-stage and some of the most iconic performances from his early solo career.

Michael hits on nearly every overdone biopic trope, features caricatured performances, and offers little more than stale recreations of music videos and concert performances.

Michael Jackson may have been a groundbreaking musician, but the film never tries to differentiate him from any other artist that’s managed to become famous.

★★☆☆☆

Swapped

A tiny woodland creature and a majestic bird suddenly swap bodies, forcing them to team up to survive the wildest adventure of their lives.

It’s difficult to guess the quality of a Netflix original film (there are some real duds), but I was shocked at how much I loved Swapped. It features gorgeous animation, stunningly beautiful music from Siddhartha Khosla, and compelling voice work from a celebrity cast.

The film tells a story you’ve seen a million times, which holds it back from being truly special. But this is (so far) my favorite animated film of 2026.

★★★☆☆ | Watch now on Netflix

From the Archives

Today, the Arts & Faith community announced the Top 25 Films Directed by Women. Each year, a group of jurors nominates and votes on a top 25 list identifying the best spiritually significant films within a certain theme. This was the sixth list of which I’ve been a juror, but the nine month process the community and I spent in crafting this one has been particularly special.

Here are my extended thoughts on the process and results.

On the Topic of Spiritual Significance

While not a part of this year’s official list name, Arts & Faith frequently clarifies their lists as the Top 25 Spiritually Significant films about a topic. That modifier isn’t necessary (it’s implied considering the name and purpose of the group), but it does help to keep in mind our north star: identifying spiritually significant films.

This means that film ratings and consensus “best films of all time” play less of a role in Arts & Faith than in typical film circles. Likewise, spiritual significance is an important factor in decision-making for the Arts & Faith lists that obviously isn’t represented in a film’s Letterboxd rating or the AFI Top 100.

The Godfather (1972) is widely considered one of the best films of all time, but didn’t make an Arts & Faith list until 2024. Citizen Kane (1941) hasn’t been on an Arts & Faith list in 11 years. On the other hand, Robert Duvall’s largely forgotten The Apostle (1997) has appeared on eight Arts & Faith lists, including the #33 spot in last year’s top 100 list.

When focusing on women-directed films specifically, Women Talking (2022) may not be considered among the greatest films ever made, but it’s hard to dispute the film’s spiritual significance. Meanwhile City of God (2002), the highest rated film directed by a woman on Letterboxd, wasn’t even among the initial 105 Arts & Faith nominees.

What even is “spiritually significant?” Understandably, everyone has a bit of a different answer. Spiritual significance doesn’t have to mean an overt religious setting or Christian message. After all, the belief of my blog is that one can find spiritual significance in any film, and I’d imagine most Arts & Faith jurors would feel the same.

But we all have internal processes for what constitutes spirituality, and that informs our selections. I may not have agreed with all nominees—options such as American Psycho (2000) and A League of Their Own (1992) raised a few eyebrows during the process—but jurors were able to make compelling arguments for why those films had something to say spiritually, even if they didn’t make the final list.

On the Topic of Women-Directed

One of the great difficulties in being a juror for Arts & Faith lies in defining the list topic alongside defining the aforementioned “spiritually significant” criteria. What is a “crime and punishment” film? What is a film about “waking up?” Past Arts & Faith lists covered those topics and caused a range of debates (one juror argued WALL-E involved maritime law and was therefore eligible for the crime and punishment list).

At face value this year’s list topic seemed more straightforward than past, less easily defined themes. However, when it came to nominations and voting, the community realized things weren’t so simple. Voters fell somewhere on a spectrum of three schools of thought (my names for these schools are completely made up):

1. The Absolutist: All that matters is that a film was directed by a woman and is spiritually significant (though, as mentioned above, definitions of spiritual significance vary greatly). Film history and feminist impact are not taken into consideration.

2. The Feminist: Films must be more than just directed by a woman, but should somehow be demonstrative of the experience of being a woman. Perhaps that means featuring a female protagonist, dealing with themes more specific to womanhood, or being affected by a woman’s direction.

3. The Canonist: Certain films and/or directors are essential to the history of film (particularly women in film) and should be included in the list, even if their spiritual significance is lesser.

I fell on the absolutist side of the voting body, but I see merit in all lines of thinking. This varied attitude toward voting also explains some of the voting results. While I won’t share specific voting numbers, Women Talking easily earned the number 1 spot on the list. The film is about women’s experiences with faith and religion, and is written and directed by Academy Award winner Sarah Polley, thus appealing to absolutists, feminists, and canonists alike.

Similarly, The Prince of Egypt (1998) landed at number 3 on the list, a film that gives added weight to female characters in the Exodus story such as Tzipporah and Miriam, and also marks the first animated feature film to be directed by a woman. Most of the selections that made the group’s top 25 are films that managed to appease all three schools of thought.

It should be noted the list follows a one-film-per-director limit; any filmmaker with multiple nominations was narrowed down to a single representative title during an early voting round. Greta Gerwig’s Lady Bird (2017) was selected over Barbie (2023), Ava DuVernay’s Selma (2014) was chosen instead of Origin (2023), and so on. Several directors had multiple films nominated, but missed out on the final list entirely. Sofia Coppola, Penny Marshall, Kelly Reichardt, and Jane Campion were among those unfortunate omissions.

The Arts & Faith community has floated the idea of a list of films directed by women for several years, due in no small part to the fact that our lists (and, frankly, lists from most film communities) have been men-centric. Kenneth Morefield wrote an excellent blog, Crawling Towards Diversity, in response to the 2020 Arts & Faith Top 100 list, which contained only 6 films directed by women. After our 2025 Top 100 list only raised that number to 9 films, the group decided it was time to recognize more spiritually significant works directed by women.

Interestingly, only 11 films on this list have never appeared on a previous Arts & Faith list. Now maybe I’m a glass half-empty guy; after all, one could argue that nearly half (44%) of the list being new selections is a success. Some truly great films appear here for the first time, from La Vie du Christ (1906) to Aftersun (2022).

But I wonder if this process will impact future Arts & Faith lists, as was one of the goals. If a dedicated focus on women-directed films only surfaced 11 new titles, can we expect the 2030 Top 100 to change drastically? Perhaps the results simply confirm that the group’s previous lists had already recognized the most significant films in this category. Only time will tell.

Let’s Look Further at the Data

It should come as no surprise that the list leans heavily modern. The 2020s are the most represented decade (seven films), with four of those films released in 2023. By contrast, only 10 films were released before 2000. This trend mirrors the industry at large, since the percentage of women-directed films has increased significantly in recent years (though remains embarrassingly low).

In 2023, 16% of the top 250 grossing films were directed by women. Compare that to 1949-1979, when 0.19% of all films were directed by women, and a clear picture is painted. There simply aren’t as many eligible films for this list the further one looks from present day. In fact, this Arts & Faith top 25 list has a nearly 50 year gap in representation, with no films present between 1916 and 1962.

Despite the lack of era diversity, the women-directed list shows increased representation in other unique ways for Arts & Faith. 13 countries and six languages are represented on the list, including five films in French (20% of the list!) and two silent films. The group’s previous top 25 list (Crime and Punishment) contained only two non-English films and represented a mere six countries.

I won’t make any unsubstantiated claims, but that comparison does pose some interesting questions. Have countries outside America done a better job at giving women directing opportunities? Or did this group of jurors merely have a better appreciation of world cinema?

Lastly, while rating art is incredibly subjective, it’s interesting to look at the Letterboxd ratings for all Arts & Faith Top 25 lists:

This year’s list is tied with three others for lowest average film rating. I’m unsurprised to see topics such as musicals on the lower end of the average, since they’re notoriously polarizing. But this may also point to why the barrier of entry on the Arts & Faith lists has been more difficult for women-directed films. Not only are women-directed films typically lesser seen, but the women-directed films Arts & Faith deemed the best have a 3%-5% lower average rating than most of our other top 25 lists.

In fact, only 20 films on the 2025 Top 100 list fall below a 3.9 rating (the average for our women-directed films). This trend extends to the musicals list, which shares a similarly lower average and claims only four spots in the 2025 Top 100.

I hope it goes without saying I realize Letterboxd isn’t the be-all and end-all of a film’s worth. But I do think the ratings there reflect a general cultural consensus around a film. Film ratings aren’t an objective measure of why a film does or doesn’t make an Arts & Faith list, but they do paint a broadly interesting picture of what may influence list results.

Top Films Directed by Women

I may have sounded pessimistic earlier when discussing the list results, but there are undeniable triumphs from creating this list. I was introduced to nearly 40 films I’d never seen while researching and voting, and I’d imagine other jurors shared similar experiences. That alone makes this process a worthy endeavor, regardless of whether those viewings bear fruit in future lists or not.

Some of my favorite films made the list; others sadly didn’t make the cut. Lois Weber was the first American woman to direct a feature-length film, and I’m thrilled that film, Hypocrites (1914), earned the #16 spot. Weber was vocal about using filmmaking as a tool for evangelism, and Hypocrites does so in striking fashion.

The Prince of Egypt is among my favorite films of all time and, as mentioned previously, landed at #3 on the list. The #14 spot went to La Vie du Christ (1906), one of the earliest movies about Christ ever made, and almost certainly the first major biblical film directed by a woman. The scenes are shot almost as living portraits in which the camera barely moves, turning each viewer into a biblical witness.

In addition, here are a few of my favorite films that unfortunately missed the Arts & Faith list:

• Ida Lupino’s The Trouble with Angels (1966) is an equal parts funny and heartwarming coming-of-age story about two new students causing a raucous at a boarding school run by nuns.

• Elaine May’s A New Leaf (1971) is a laugh-out-loud romantic comedy in which a carefree playboy plots to marry and murder a wealthy botanist. It sounds ridiculous (and is), but it’s the embodiment of 1 Corinthians 1:18: “The message of the cross is foolishness to lost people.”

• Kelly Reichardt’s Wendy and Lucy (2008) beautifully portrays themes of prodigals and the calling of the church community as a near-penniless drifter loses her dog while attempting to shoplift food for it. “A righteous man cares for the needs of his animal, but the kindest acts of the wicked are cruel.” — ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭12‬:‭10‬

• In Jennifer Kent’s The Babadook (2014), a single mother and her child are haunted by a monster from an eerie children’s book. I’ve rarely seen a film so effectively cover the inescapable and daily struggle with sin and grief.

No list like this is perfect, but it has been a joy over the last several years to participate in the Arts & Faith community and contribute to this process. While many films in the Top 25 list aren’t new to Arts & Faith, I hope that having a dedicated list of spiritually significant films directed by women will prove useful to the film community at large, introducing them to underrepresented films, directors, and spiritual themes.

This article first appeared on Film Fisher.

ANNA
“What do you think your soul is?”

LARRY
“I don’t know...I suppose it’s the perfect version of yourself.”

ANNA
“Nah, man. It’s just...you.”

Nearly everyone in Eternity is obsessed with perfection. Picking the perfect place to spend eternity. Picking the perfect partner to spend it with. But with only one week to decide where to spend eternity, Joan is faced with the impossible choice between Larry, the man she spent her life with, and her first love Luke, who died young and has waited decades in the afterlife for her to arrive.

It’s a choice between what seems perfect and what feels familiar, and the film serves as a profound spiritual deconstruction of our modern obsession with perfection.

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Thy Will Be Done

Eternity’s production design is a key component of communicating the film’s strange vision of the afterlife, the main waiting area a meticulously crafted blend of a mid-20th century corporate office and train station (it’s even called the Junction).

Everything in the Junction is built to create a facade of perfection. Rather than look out onto the heavens, the bedroom windows are backlit sheets of painted sky, swapped each morning and evening to simulate the transition from day to night. Popup banners crowd the Junction lobby, with salespeople trying to convince the newly deceased to go to their “perfect” eternity. This artifice establishes the film’s view of the afterlife as a product to be sold, a perfect experience designed to satisfy the consumerist soul.

This corporate aesthetic is often reminiscent of The Good Place, a television show also set in the afterlife, much of which is managed through cubicles and offices. However, while The Good Place questioned a merit-based system in which practically no one can be good enough to enter paradise, Eternity posits a different failure. The Afterlife Coordinator Anna explains to Larry, “Everyone gets an eternity. The good, the bad and the ugly.” But if that’s the case, why does there remain systemic unhappiness?

The flaw lies in the selection. Characters are made to choose a single, “perfect” location (and in Joan’s case a single, perfect husband) based on their own imperfect human desires. It is a paradise built on the “customer is always right” philosophy, ignoring the fact that the customer often wants the very things that will eventually make them miserable. “All I see is paint and it’s so boring! Museum-world is the worst!” one miserable man shouts as he’s arrested attempting to escape his chosen eternity.

In The Great Divorce (yet another story about purgatory and eternities), C.S. Lewis writes: “There are only two kinds of people in the end: those who say to God, ‘Thy will be done,’ and those to whom God says, in the end, ‘Thy will be done.’ All that are in Hell, choose it. Without that self-choice there could be no Hell.”

In Eternity, the residents are granted exactly what they think they want, yet this self-choice becomes their undoing. We see this in the various eternities marketed to the residents, like a tropical beach that’s overcrowded or a winter wonderland that Joan finds “a bit cold.” The film even mentions “discontinued” eternities that went “out of fashion... quite a few of them weren’t very PC by today’s standards.” These selections are flawed because human desire is not a reliable compass, and is often as artificial as the windows in the Junction.

You Cannot Understand Eternity

This tension between perfection and reality is also personified in the film’s leading trio. Luke (Callum Turner) is Joan’s first husband and appears perfect from all angles (by my count, of the film’s 26 uses of the word “perfect,” 18 of them are in reference to Luke). Larry, Joan’s second husband, calls Luke “the perfect ghost I could never compete with.” And it’s true. Luke gives off the appearance of the perfect husband because he is more memory than man.

The more the viewer gets to know Luke, the more we see the cracks in his facade. Each day he dyes his graying hair and shaves his beard. He looks at porn and has been hooking up with other women in the Junction. He cares more about meeting new people than deepening his existing relationship. Much like the various eternity locations people can choose, Luke is hollow, representing a seemingly perfect destination without any meaningful journey to get there.

Countering this is Larry, Joan’s second husband. Even in the afterlife, Larry is still his unfiltered self: irritable, anxious, and stubborn. Teller plays Larry with a grounded and relatably hilarious humanity that serves as a foil to Turner’s dream husband archetype. His lack of interest in the many questions of the afterlife is one of the film’s funniest and most telling character moments. As he puts it: “I’m dead and I haven’t once thought about the meaning of life. They’re all like, ‘this is it’ and I’m like ‘yup, makes sense to me.’”

“Ye cannot in your present state understand eternity. That is what mortals misunderstand. They say of some temporal suffering, ‘No future bliss can make up for it,’ not knowing that Heaven, once attained, will work backwards and turn even that agony into a glory” (The Great Divorce, C.S. Lewis).

Larry’s simple mindset makes him seem like the lesser option, and indeed, Joan initially chooses Luke, thinking he’ll make her happiest. But she quickly learns that the “perfection” offered by Luke, the winter wonderland eternity they choose, and the afterlife system as a whole, is just a facade.

The New Earth He Has Promised

The film’s climax rejects artificial perfection and embraces reality. Lewis argues once more in The Great Divorce, “Hell is a state of mind... every shutting up of the creature within the dungeon of its own mind - is, in the end, Hell. But Heaven is not a state of mind. Heaven is reality itself. All that is fully real is Heavenly.”

The Junction’s eternities are merely states of mind, artificial, flimsy, and tiresome. They offer a supposed escape from suffering, but in doing so, they remove the very context in which Joan and Larry’s love was forged. When Joan flees her perfect life with Luke to find Larry, she is choosing “reality itself,” as Lewis puts it. The eternity that Joan and Larry ultimately pick is their own neighborhood, Oakdale. An eternal, perfected, heavenly location that is rooted in the “fully real” life they shared.

Joan and Larry’s rejection of the Junction’s eternal vacation mentality is also reminiscent of N.T. Wright’s writing on heaven. Wright posits that God’s redeeming glory does not abolish the earthly, but perfects it through restoration:

“Part of the point of God’s saving his people is that they are destined not merely to enjoy a relaxing endless vacation in a place called heaven, but that they are designed to be God’s stewards, ruling over the whole creation with healing and restorative justice and love” (Surprised by Scripture, N.T. Wright).

When Larry and Joan step out of the Junction and into their familiar neighborhood world, they are witnessing a cinematic translation of this theology. Their destination is not a dream on a marketing brochure; it is the physical world they knew, now allowed to exist in its true, glorified, yet tangibly real state.

After an entire film—and life—searching for perfection, they’ve found it not in an ethereal, alien destination, but in the restoration of the good things they have already known. Looking out at a street that resembles the suburban road where they lived, Larry observes, “Well...looks like Oakdale.” To which Joan replies, “It’s perfect.”

“But we are looking forward to the new heavens and new earth he has promised, a world filled with God’s righteousness.” 2 Peter 3:13

Welcome to this month’s Cinema Snapshots! At the beginning of each month, I reflect on what I watched the prior month and provide a quick “snapshot” of my thoughts on those films. So without further ado, here are my Cinema Snapshots for April 2026.

Project Hail Mary

Science teacher Ryland Grace wakes up on a spaceship light years from home with no recollection of who he is or how he got there. As his memory returns, he begins to uncover his mission: solve the riddle of the mysterious substance causing the sun to die out. He must call on his scientific knowledge and unorthodox ideas to save everything on Earth from extinction… but an unexpected friendship means he may not have to do it alone.

A sneakily difficult and impressive adaptation. Weir’s novel is very interior, packed with science details, and constantly jumping timelines. I didn’t love it on the page, but I couldn’t imagine it on the screen.

And yet, Project Hail Mary is a joy-filled and heartfelt success of a film. Ryan Gosling is the perfect actor to carry chunks of a film by himself (Matt Damon was similarly successful with that task in Weir’s The Martian ten years ago). Writer Drew Goddard finds the emotion and thematic strengths of Weir’s novel and adapts it wonderfully, Lord and Miller’s direction brings a brisk, fun-filled energy to the entire film, and Fraser’s cinematography is stunning, especially the space scenes.

This approach does have its limits. Lord, Miller, and Gosling’s comedic leanings occasionally remove the gravitas from the more serious beats. The earth scenes (which have room to breathe in the novel) often feel like annoying interruptions to the space scenes. And the frequent montages, which are admittedly necessary for the runtime, take away from the importance of certain moments and discoveries.

It may not be perfect, but Project Hail Mary is the definition of a fun time at the movies, full of care, craft, and heart that other blockbusters would do well to imitate.

★★★★☆

Avatar: Fire and Ash

In the wake of the devastating war against the RDA and the loss of their eldest son, Jake Sully and Neytiri face a new threat on Pandora: the Ash People, a violent and power-hungry Na’vi tribe led by the ruthless Varang. Jake’s family must fight for their survival and the future of Pandora in a conflict that pushes them to their emotional and physical limits.

For better and for worse, I end up judging director James Cameron (Titanic, The Terminator) on a curve. On the one hand, he’s trained audiences to expect something new and wholly different each time they watch his films, and Fire and Ash feels disappointing distinctly because of its lack of newness. It’s “just” an Avatar sequel. On the other hand, Cameron is operating on such a high level of storytelling, camera control, use of light, and visual effects mastery that watching anything he releases is a spectacle unlike nearly any other.

Fire and Ash also surprised me with its overt biblical references and themes! Cameron has always inserted spirituality into his Avatar films, but typically in a pantheistic or ecospiritual form. But here, while still fitting within the fictional world of Pandora, he tackles themes of God’s silence, divine intervention, and even an overt recreation of the binding of Isaac.

I still think this is the weakest of the Avatar films. It lacks the narrative simplicity and unique world building of the original, as well as the world expansion and CGI upgrade of The Way of Water. But a weak film for Cameron is a masterpiece for nearly any other filmmaker, and the action, emotion, and spiritual depth on display here more than makes up for its flaws relative to the rest of the franchise.

★★★★☆

Ready or Not 2: Here I Come

Moments after surviving an all-out attack from the Le Domas family, Grace discovers she’s reached the next level of the nightmarish game — and this time with her estranged sister Faith at her side. Grace has one chance to survive, keep her sister alive, and claim the High Seat of the Council that controls the world. Four rival families are hunting her for the throne, and whoever wins rules it all.

Making a sequel to Ready or Not was always going to be a tricky task. The original film made the most of a simple but fascinating premise (a deadly game of hide and seek), with unique action, smart humor, and a strong lead performance from Samara Weaving. It’s a fairly self-contained film that felt open and shut by the time it ended.

The sequel, Ready or Not 2: Here I Come, was better than I expected! Sure, there’s less novelty this time around, but the filmmakers expand the lore and concepts from the first film and expand them to interesting degrees. And while it’s nothing deep, I love the Christian implications of having two characters named Faith and Grace fighting against the demonic.

As a whole I consider the film a slight downgrade from the first, but it remains an incredibly fun watch.

★★★☆☆

Hoppers

Scientists have discovered how to ‘hop’ human consciousness into lifelike robotic animals, allowing people to communicate with animals as animals. Animal lover Mabel seizes an opportunity to use the technology, uncovering mysteries within the animal world beyond anything she could have imagined.

Pixar has been going through a bit of a slump, and while Hoppers may not match the excellence of their 90s and 00s, it marks a move in the right direction for the famous animation company.

The film has some hilarious gags that had me laughing throughout, both via physical comedy and unexpected one liners. The setup was strong as well, establishing a caring environmentalist protagonist and introducing the unexpected technology that kicks the film into action. Unfortunately, along the way Hoppers just loses its edge and doesn’t quite stick the landing. It’s a pretty good film, but not quite the return to form for Pixar I had hoped.

★★★☆☆

Reminders of Him

When Diem’s custodial grandparents adamantly refuse Kenna’s attempts to see her daughter, Kenna discovers unexpected compassion, and then something truer and deeper, with former NFL player and local bar owner Ledger. As their secret romance develops, so do the dangers for both of them, leading Kenna toward heartbreak and, ultimately, the hope for a second chance.

Reminders of Him is wonderfully made from a technical standpoint. The direction, cinematography, coloring, and sound design are all top notch, much better than what you typically get from this genre.

That sad, I just didn’t connect with the story. The melodrama was played up too much (I suspect this being Colleen Hoover’s first screenplay credit may not have helped), and the score and songs forecasted emotions that were already too explicit in the writing and performances. It’s ultimately a good-looking (and not horrible) film to watch, but one that exhausted me by the end with its hyper-emotional tone.

★★☆☆☆

From the Archives

The following was first published on Film Fisher.

The fear of God isn’t exactly a popular talking point these days. To a degree it’s understandable. Our world feels increasingly hostile by the day, so naturally people want a God who is exclusively loving, gentle, and kind. As Jackie DeShannon famously sang, “What the world needs now is love, sweet love.”

Even within the church, divine wrath has proven controversial. Stuart Townend’s contemporary hymn “In Christ Alone” includes the lyrics, “on that cross as Jesus died / the wrath of God was satisfied,” but the Presbyterian church (among others) sought to change the phrase to “on that cross as Jesus died / the love of God was magnified.” It seems we’ve reached a point where we are deeply uncomfortable with a God who is anything other than “safe.”

It was with all of this rattling around in my brain that I sat down to watch Death of a Unicorn last spring. While it didn’t quite make my “best of” list for 2025, it has dominated my thoughts in the months since. It is a disarmingly earnest film that explores the intersection of the divine and the mundane, forcing us to reckon with the fear of God in its truest sense, and the transformative power of encountering something beyond our comprehension.

A Movie True to Unicorns

Following his wife’s death to cancer, Elliot (Paul Rudd) and his daughter Ridley (Jenna Ortega) are en route to a weekend retreat at his billionaire boss Odell Leopold’s house when the impossible happens: they hit a unicorn with their car.

Scared and unsure what to do, they toss the unicorn in their car and continue to the retreat. But once they arrive, they notice unexplainable phenomena. Ridley’s acne suddenly vanishes. Elliot doesn’t need his glasses anymore. Odell’s cancer goes into remission. Much like the woman who touched Jesus’ garment (Mark 5:27-29), it seems that anyone who touches the unicorn experiences healing.

As the rich Leopold family quickly works to desecrate and monetize this supernatural being, they realize this unicorn was just the child ... and its two parents are coming for judgment. What ensues is a hilarious (and occasionally gruesome) survival film in which Elliot, Ridley, and the Leopolds attempt to escape the wrath of the unicorns. But make no mistake, this film is much more than what’s on the surface.

“It was really important to me that we didn’t do a cynical movie. That is, a monster movie where the monster happens to be a unicorn,” writer and director Alex Scharfman told Polygon. “It was really important to me that the movie felt true to unicorns, both in terms of their lore, but also in terms of the emotional valence that they carry…the sense of their symbolism. In a way that speaks to what they are, but also…why they’ve resonated with humans over two millennia.”

Animals and the Divine

When researching the mysterious being that they hit, Ridley mentions to the group that a common interpretation of the unicorn is as “a metaphor for Christ and man’s inherent corruption.” Unicorns are pure and offer healing, but man is always seeking to control (or even kill) these supernatural creatures.

Of course, Death of a Unicorn is far from the first portrayal of Christ and the supernatural in animal form. C.S. Lewis’s popular novel, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, portrays the Godhead as a lion, Aslan. And similarly to the unicorns, the use of a lion in the novels is meant to invoke a certain level of fear:

“Is he--quite safe?,” asked Susan. “I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.”

“That you will, dearie, and no mistake,” said Mrs Beaver. “If there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most or else just silly.”

“Then he isn’t safe?” said Lucy.

“Safe?” said Mr Beaver; “don’t you hear what Mrs Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”

Fear is a natural response to God’s power and greatness. Just ask the apostles who were “filled with great fear” after Jesus commanded the storm to be still (Mark 4:41). As pastor J.D. Greear puts it, “Many people today assume that “the fear of God” is some kind of leftover relic from some oppressive, archaic view of religion. But any time you are in the presence of greatness you feel a sense of fear.”

Fear is a righteous and worthy response to the greatness of God, and within the context of the film, the unicorns demand this same level of fear. But as we see with the wealthy Leopold family, a lack of proper fear can lead to ruin...

Eat the Rich

It’s easy to dismiss the Death of a Unicorn as yet another “eat the rich” allegory. After all, it does portray the deserved downfall of Odell and his family – hilariously out of touch with common people and focused only on getting richer. But beneath this trope is a glimpse at how the powers that be seek to harness anything they deem profitable, including the spiritual.

Once Odell realizes the supernatural value of the dead unicorn, his mind immediately turns to monetizing it, and he demands that his in-house doctors and scientists work on replicating the unicorn’s healing properties.

“If you gave us all the time and all the resources in the world, we couldn’t reproduce this,” Dr. Song explains. “Sometimes science can only be humbled in the face of nature.”

Odell is having none of it, spouting back pridefully, “All you can speak of is man’s limitations. Man has no limitations.”

The film highlights the arrogance of those who believe they can control or exploit the divine, and it’s these nuances that allow it to rise above common tropes. Yes, we take immense pleasure as an audience in seeing the Leopold family humbled and destroyed. But it’s not merely because of their riches. The film shows us that their lack of respect and fear for the supernatural is ultimately their undoing. To see what that respect and fear should look like, we turn to Elliot and Ridley.

A Healed Family

Just as the film smartly elevates “eat the rich” tropes, it uses the workings of a cliched parent-child reconciliation story to reveal further spiritual depth. Countless stories have shown a broken family following the loss of a loved one that finds a way to heal. And while that is certainly present here, the key difference lies again in the supernatural.

Death of a Unicorn is the story of how an encounter with the divine not only changes an individual on a personal level, but changes our relationships with one another. The unicorn’s power (and frankly its mere presence) help Elliot and Ridley come to terms with his wife’s and her mother’s passing, their own mortality, and the things that hold true importance in this life.

When Ridley touches the unicorn, she sees a glimpse into the cosmos, and it reframes her perspective on everything. “They were showing me where [we come from] and where we’ve already been heading back to,” she tells her dad. “Where a part of Mom was already waiting. In a place where we don’t have to worry about what we didn’t figure out while we were here.”

Witnesses of Majesty

In one final symbolic representation of Christ, the film ends with the baby unicorn being resurrected by its parents. And after a film full of foreboding music and chilling camera angles accompanying these creatures, the filmmaking no longer evokes horror. The score is majestic as the sun shines on this reunited triune family, with Elliot and Ridley looking on in wonder. It’s an oddly affecting ending for what is a largely silly film, but the sincerity with which the filmmakers treat the emotional beats makes for a genuinely moving moment.

Death of a Unicorn shows the unicorn as a creature of both judgment and healing. It suggests that those who approach the sacred with arrogance and control will face consequences. And those that approach the divine with humility will be met with salvation. By exploring the unicorn’s symbolism through a spiritual lens, the film invites us to reflect on our own relationship with the unseen.

And as the credits roll, we are left with the realization that the fear of God is not a relic of the past, but the beginning of a wisdom that recognizes we are not the masters of God, but witnesses to His majesty.

Welcome to this month’s Cinema Snapshots! At the beginning of each month, I reflect on what I watched the prior month and provide a quick “snapshot” of my thoughts on those films. So without further ado, here are my Cinema Snapshots for March 2026.

In the Blink of an Eye

Three storylines, spanning thousands of years, intersect and reflect on hope, connection, and the circle of life.

In the Blink of an Eye is messy, uneven, and doesn’t totally work. Yet I found myself engaged the entire time. Its experimental pace and disarmingly optimistic attitude about humanity are sure to throw viewers off, but those are the qualities I found particularly engaging. Andrew Stanton (Finding Nemo, WALL•E) provides striking visual direction even in live action, and Thomas Newman’s score beautifully connects the film’s separate timelines.

Watch this as a companion piece to Zemeckis’ Here (another weird film about time and humanity I really enjoyed).

★★★☆☆ | Watch now on Hulu and Disney+

How to Make a Killing

Disowned at birth by his obscenely wealthy family, blue-collar Becket Redfellow will stop at nothing to reclaim his inheritance, no matter how many relatives stand in his way.

I love the genre of film where Ed Harris shows up at the end for 5 minutes and owns the scene (Snowpiercer is another quick example that comes to mind).

How to Make a Killing is an effortlessly entertaining film. The ensemble makes the most of limited screen time, and Glen Powell was perfectly cast in the leading role. I already mentioned Ed Harris, but Topher Grace and Zach Woods also steal the show in their brief scenes. The story sticks to the expected beats, but the strength of the performances combined with steady camerawork and editing make this a must-watch.

★★★★☆

Send Help

Two colleagues become stranded on a deserted island, the only survivors of a plane crash. On the island, they must overcome past grievances and work together to survive, but ultimately, it’s a battle of wills and wits to make it out alive.

Send Help contains all the style and confidence you’d expect from veteran director Sam Raimi, with two delightfully exaggerated performances from Rachel McAdams and Dylan O’Brien. The first two acts are stronger than the gory and campy finale (though camp and gore is to be expected with most Raimi films), and the themes at play are more successful in films such as Triangle of Sadness than they are here. But the film is a fun, wild ride nonetheless.

★★★☆☆

Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie

When their plan to book a show at the Rivoli goes horribly wrong, Matt and Jay accidentally travel back to the year 2008.

I’ve never seen Nirvanna the Band the Show (a Canadian mockumentary-sitcom television series), but after hearing incredible things about this new feature film based on the show, I had to check it out.

I loved it! Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie (yes, that’s the title) is a well shot, hilarious, and surprisingly heartwarming take on time travel. I was in a constant state of disbelief thinking of the logistics of making this film—frequently shot in public with unknowing bystanders—all while crafting a coherent and moving story built from those improvised and unexpected encounters.

Even if you’ve never seen the show (like me), go in with an open mind and enjoy this wacky, delightful mockumentary adventure.

★★★★☆

Forbidden Fruits

Free Eden employee Apple secretly runs a witchy femme cult in the basement of the mall store after hours – with fellow fruits Cherry and Fig. But, when new hire Pumpkin challenges their performative sisterhood, the women are forced to face their own poisons or succumb to a bloody fate.

Mean Girls meets Paradise Lost (not a sentence I expected to type). Forbidden Fruits thrives on its over-the-top fun performances, biblical imagery and references galore, and unique approach to tried and true story tropes. You’ll either love the tone or hate it, but it worked for me, even if some of the third act twists and turns were a bit too pulpy for my taste.

Speaking of biblical references, I loved Lili Reinhart’s shirt in the finale, an allusion to the stage play the film is based on, as well as Ecclesiasticus‬ ‭25‬:‭24‬: “Of the woman came the beginning of sin, and through her we all die.”

★★★☆☆

Scream 7

When a new Ghostface killer emerges in the quiet town where Sidney Prescott has built a new life, her darkest fears are realized as her daughter becomes the next target. Determined to protect her family, Sidney must face the horrors of her past to put an end to the bloodshed once and for all.

Scream 7 had a troubled production history to say the least, but even taken on its own, the film is the weakest in the franchise. It returns the series’ focus to Sydney Prescott (Neve Campbell), now with a teenage daughter of her own, as they seek to unmask the latest Ghostface killer.

The Scream franchise has the difficult ongoing task of needing to come up with new and innovative ways to advance the slasher genre, all while playfully embracing its tropes. But now, seven films and fourteen Ghostface killers in, Scream 7 seems out of fresh ideas. Everything is recycled here from past Scream films or other horror thrillers, without any hint of self-awareness or progression. The action scenes are muddily shot, the Ghostface reveal feels shrug-worthy, and the performances even feel tired, as if the actors themselves aren’t quite sure why they’re still doing this.

Diehard fans may still find things to love here, but as a general audience member, very little actually works in Scream 7.

★★☆☆☆

From the Archives

Happy Holy Week! Enjoy these past blogs I’ve written about various Easter and Passover films…

Happy Holy Week!

It’s a common tradition for many to spend the month of December watching Christmas movies to prepare for the holidays. But my favorite movie-watching season is in the weeks leading up to Easter. My writing here often focuses on the intersection of faith and film, so it only made sense I recommend some biblical films to watch for Easter.

Readers familiar with biblical films are likely aware of the classics. Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ (2004), while intense, is a signature film to watch at Easter, perhaps the best depiction to date of Jesus’ crucifixion. King of Kings (1961) is a more traditional biblical epic, telling the full story of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection. Lesser known—though popular among cinephiles—is The Gospel According to St. Matthew (1964), directed by Pier Paolo Pasolini. It’s a uniquely affecting watch, employing a cast of mostly amateur actors, filmed entirely in Southern Italy, and with all of its dialogue taken directly from the Gospel of Matthew.

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Passover films are also popular this time of year, and two in particular are staples of mine each spring. The Ten Commandments (1956) stars Charlton Heston as Moses, clocking in at a whopping 220 minutes and filled with romance, excitement, and spectacle. The parting of the Red Sea is a visual effects marvel in a pre-CGI era. A personal favorite of mine is The Prince of Egypt (1998), DreamWorks Animation’s retelling of the Exodus story. I’ve written about the film in the past, analyzing how the animation and music beautifully capture the grandeur, emotion, and spiritual gravity of the events portrayed.

But for viewers looking for more obscure, unique, or even difficult movies to meditate on this time of year, I’ve compiled a list of five underrated films to watch for Easter. These selections aren’t always as clean-cut as many traditional Bible retellings. But, much like the mission of this outlet, these films are valuable because of their “cloudiness.” We don’t know everything, but part of the journey is seeking to find the meaning amidst the clouds.

The Book of Clarence (2023)

Streetwise but down-on-his-luck, Clarence is struggling to find a better life for his family, while fighting to free himself of debt. Captivated by the power and glory of the rising Messiah and His apostles, he risks everything to carve his own path to a divine life, and ultimately discovers that the redemptive power of belief may be his only way out.

While an admittedly unconventional take on the gospel story, The Book of Clarence offers a profound meditation on knowledge and faith. Writer and director Jeymes Samuel emphasizes the innate human longing for identity and understanding, centering the film on Clarence, twin of “doubting Thomas” the apostle. And yes, for those who are wondering, the Bible does say that Thomas was a twin.

Clarence mirrors his biblical brother’s skeptical traits but goes a step further by rejecting faith entirely, preferring instead to seek knowledge and “enlightenment.” But as his attention-seeking schemes get him in more and more trouble, he’s confronted with the truth he’s been running from: perhaps real enlightenment can only be found in Christ.

The film’s style is strange to say the least, inspired by everything from biblical epics to Spike Lee to Quentin Tarantino. But beneath that chaotic style is a hilarious story and touching spiritual message, making it one of my favorite faith films of all time.

Read my extended thoughts here:

You can watch The Book of Clarence on Hulu.

The Miracle Maker (1999) | Films to Watch for Easter

‘The Miracle Maker’ tells the story of the life of Jesus, voiced by Ralph Fiennes, from the perspective of secondary characters such as his disciples, the high priests and in particular Tamar, the daughter of Jairus, previously unnamed in the Bible.

This under-seen gem was a staple for me as a kid and I still return to it each year. The stop motion animation offers the ancient biblical setting a tangible feeling, beautifully contrasted by the flowing, hand-drawn animation used for parables. And that’s to say nothing of the all-star voice cast: Ralph Fiennes, Alfred Molina, Richard E. Grant, Ian Holm, and Emily Mortimer to name a few.

But beyond its merit as simply a great movie, The Miracle Maker showcases perhaps the best cinematic example of Jesus’s dual identity as fully God and fully man. We see this Jesus laugh, cry, suffer, and love, all while retaining a mystic and miraculous presence. It’s incredibly well written and tenderly performed, and I was thrilled it landed on the Arts & Faith Top 100 list last year (#32).

You can watch The Miracle Maker free on YouTube and Tubi, or stream on Prime Video.

The Last Temptation of Christ (1988)

Jesus is drawn into revolutionary action against the Roman occupiers by Judas – despite his protestations that love, not violence, is the path to salvation. The burden of being the savior of mankind torments Jesus throughout his life, leading him to doubt.

No one should go into The Last Temptation of Christ (or frankly any film) expecting scriptural authority. In fact, I’ve always appreciated that this film opens with a blunt disclaimer: “This film is not based on the Gospels, but upon the fictional exploration of the eternal spiritual conflict.”

While I’d argue that Silence is Martin Scorsese’s best film on faith, The Last Temptation of Christ is the film I consistently revisit each Easter. Just as the opening text states, Last Temptation is all about the spiritual conflict of being tempted, showing both the internal and external battle between the human and the divine, part of the burden of Christ’s messianic role.

How is it even possible for someone to equally inhabit both man and God? It’s hard for the human mind to comprehend, and that struggle is the focus of Scorsese’s challenging work. The film isn’t biblically accurate (though it sticks truer to scripture than some give it credit for), but viewers get perhaps the best chance to put themselves in Christ’s shoes and see the difficulties of living a sinless, blameless life in human form.

Read my extended thoughts here:

The Last Temptation of Christ is not currently streaming, but can be digitally rented, purchased, or bought physically from the Criterion Collection.

Barabbas (1961) | Films to Watch for Easter

Epic account of the thief Barabbas, who was pardoned for his crimes and spared crucifixion when Pilate offered the Israelites a choice to pardon Barabbas or Jesus. Struggling with his spirituality, Barabbas goes through many ordeals leading him to the gladiatorial arena, where he tries to win his freedom and confront his inner demons, ultimately becoming a follower of the man who was crucified in his place.

Barabbas was a first-time watch for me this year, and it’s a fascinating film. It contains the extravagant scale and lavish production design often associated with biblical epics, but the focus is far more interior. Every huge set, every swell of the music, and each of the hundreds of extras is used to further Barabbas’s arc, from Christ’s crucifixion scene to the gladiator fights to the burning of Rome.

Speaking of the crucifixion, here’s a fun fact: to portray the Earth going dark during Jesus’ death, the cast and crew filmed the crucifixion scene during a real solar eclipse. The film lingers on a single eclipse shot for a full 45 seconds, forcing you to take in the supernatural wonder as the view of the cross slowly darkens.

And that’s to say nothing of the film’s spiritual depth! Despite his best attempts to run from faith, Barabbas can’t seem to escape the pull he feels towards Christ, a mixture of shame, guilt, and genuine intrigue at the figure who took his place and died. One of my favorite interactions is between Barabbas and the apostle Peter.

Barabbas: I was the opposite of everything he taught, wasn’t I? Why did He let Himself be killed instead of me?

Peter: Because being farthest from Him, you were the nearest.

Barabbas: I’m no nearer than I was before.

Peter: Nor any farther away. The truth of the matter is, He’s never moved from your side. I can tell you this: there has been a wrestling in your spirit back and forth in your life which, in itself, is knowledge of God. By the conflict you have known Him.

You can watch Barabbas free on Tubi.

La Vie du Christ (1906)

The stations of Christ’s life are segmented into a series of performative tableaux.

For casual moviegoers, La Vie du Christ (The Birth, the Life and the Death of Christ) may not be as “fun” or “easy” a watch compared to other films on this list. But at 120 years old, this film is significant for a multitude of reasons. While early cinema history has a lot of gaps, La Vie du Christ is one of the earliest movies about Christ ever made, and almost certainly the first major biblical film directed by a woman.

At only 33 minutes, Alice Guy-Blaché’s film is a quick watch, but it hits on all the major moments in Jesus’ life, with the scenes shot almost as living portraits (you can see why the medium of film was described early on as “motion picture”). The camera barely moves in any given scene, turning each viewer into a biblical witness as each event unfolds, from Jesus’ birth, ministry, trial, death, and resurrection. I’m honestly still not quite sure how the resurrection scene was shot, a breathtaking sequence in which Jesus levitates above the grave before disappearing.

I watched this film in preparation for voting on the upcoming Arts & Faith Women-Directed Films list. You can check out the other nominees below:

You can watch La Vie du Christ free on YouTube.

What are your favorite films to watch for Easter? Comment below and let me know what I may have left out!

From his early work on Star Trek: The Next Generation to collaborations with James Cameron (Dark Angel), Steven Spielberg (Terra Nova), and Guillermo del Toro (Carnival Row), René Echevarria has spent decades establishing himself as a versatile showrunner and show creator alongside some of Hollywood’s most imaginative minds. But his latest project, The Faithful: Women of the Bible is the answer to a personal prayer offered years ago: “If it please you, Lord, use me.”

Premiering on FOX this spring as a three-week event starting Sunday, March 22, the series tells the story of the Biblical Matriarchs: Sarah (Minnie Driver) and her servant Hagar (Natacha Karam), Sarah’s great-niece Rebekah (Alexa Davalos), and Rebekah’s nieces, sisters Leah (Millie Brady) and Rachel (Blu Hunt). Filmed on location in Rome and Matera, Italy, The Faithful explores the ways in which these women’s lives were marked by quests for independence, deep-seeded desires, and the search for something greater than themselves.

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Echevarria and I recently sat down to discuss the origins of the series and the challenges of filling in the blanks of the biblical text. During our conversation, which has been edited for length and clarity, we discussed his desire for a “God-affirming” project, the creative liberating force of focusing on female perspectives, and the lessons he carried from his time working alongside Steven Spielberg.

I want to start out by getting an idea of how this series originated. Why did you want to tell this story, and why now?

Some years ago, after having been blessed with a long career in this business, I decided that my next project would be something God-affirming, something I could share with my church and my kids. Not everything I’ve done could be shown at church, let’s just say. I put it out there: “If it please you, Lord, use me.” It took a while, but then a writer-producer that I really admire, Carol Mendelsohn, reached out to me years later. She said she wanted to do a project about the women of the Bible. She’d heard I was a believer, and so we partnered up to do it.

Let’s talk a little bit more about this focus on the women of the Bible. Genesis, more often than not, ends up following the male narrative rather than the women. Because of that, you were able to use this series to fill in the blanks, adding events and motivations for these women. How did you and the team go about fleshing out their characters in a way that felt true to their biblical portrayal, even when it might not necessarily be explicit in the Bible?

That’s a great question. It was a very liberating perspective. For example, we didn’t feel the need to tell every beat of the Abraham story in Genesis. There were parts of it that didn’t involve Sarah so much. Abraham gathers an army at one point and rescues his nephew Lot; it liberated us from some of the expected beats that we didn’t need to do. Our true north was always trying to find the emotional truth of what these brave, courageous, bold women experienced. They were also flawed and, like all of us, broken. They stumble and make mistakes. It was a matter of really digging in.

It is possible to read Genesis—especially Abraham and Sarah’s story—and come away thinking, “Oh, Sarah is kind of the bad guy here.” As I pondered that, I noticed she recruits or coerces Hagar to have a child for her and then banishes her later. Those are hard to get your head around. But even though this is true, the Lord validated her choices on a certain level. When Hagar runs away, God tells her to go back. He doesn’t say, “Go girl, you get to Egypt! Be free with your son.” He says, “Go back.” God had something in mind for that child. I think He wanted him to be raised by his father, even if only for the first 13, 14, 15 years of his life. Again, when Sarah convinces Abraham to banish Hagar, he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t want to do it. But God tells him to listen to the voice of his wife.

So when I realized that, I thought, “I’m missing something; I need to dig in.” That’s when I realized she loved that boy, she loved Ishmael. It must have cost her. She didn’t do it because she finally had her own biological child; she did it because she intuited that the situation wasn’t going to work and that Ishmael needed to go find his own destiny. That’s where we ended up. I don’t know if you’ve had a chance to watch it yet?

Yes, I have!

Oh, okay good.

And I loved that aspect. I thought that was a really good perspective on things because you’re right, we do see Sarah—at one point she refers to God as her “husband’s God”—she almost offloads it on Abraham at first.

Exactly.

It was interesting how you played into the doubt; she laughs at God’s plans when she hears she’s going to have a son. I want to go back to what you said about showing that these are flawed and vulnerable people. A lot of people define faithfulness as unwavering perfection, but the show really highlights the doubts and flaws of our main characters. How would you define faithfulness in the context of a show called The Faithful?

Wow that’s a good question. All three of these stories that we tell—the first one is about Sarah, Hagar, and Abraham, the second one is about Rebecca and Isaac, and third is about Leah, Rachel, and Jacob—they all mess up. They are just finding their way. The last thing Carol said to me before I went off to write the first script was: “René, write them like they don’t know they’re Bible characters. Like they don’t know they’re in the Bible.” That was really good advice and I shared that with the other writers that we ended up hiring and even with the actors.

Part of what I learned along the way is that yes, they stumbled and made a mess of things at times, but God always made good. God blessed Ishmael, even though Ishmael came into being because Sarah had taken matters into her own hands and lost faith in the promise. Rebecca felt God called her to make sure Jacob, the younger, was chosen over Esau, the older. That was not how things were done at the time, and it put her on a collision course with her husband. So it’s another story about a marriage; very relatable I hope. And the third story—Leah and Rachel—sisters falling in love with the same man. That’s a very different kind of marriage and has its own complications, yet if it hadn’t been for that, there wouldn’t have been 12 sons, the 12 tribes of Israel.

God makes a good work, as Romans says, for all those who are called to Him. That is the big takeaway that I came to. We often share that verse during trials, but those words can ring hollow when you yourself are the one in a trial. These stories are reassuring of that truth Paul speaks of in Romans.

Do you have a favorite episode that viewers can look forward to? Do you have a favorite child? [laughter]

There are pieces of each one that I really love. The third one is a lot of fun in a scandalous but heartfelt way. The first one is probably the most jam-packed. There was so much story there, and sometimes it was a challenge to fit it into a two-hour allotment. There are things about the second episode that I really love; it’s a very romantic story for Rebecca and Isaac. She leaves her home and marries a boy sight unseen. That really intrigued me. Why did she do that? And then she becomes a fierce advocate for his God, even though she wasn’t raised in that tradition. She came alongside Isaac very powerfully to sustain this covenant. The way that all played out is one of my favorite parts. It was there where we most had to read between the lines to find something that felt true.

I’ll give you a little hint, you’ll have noticed in the first episode we don’t actually depict the binding of Isaac. We decided to do it in the second episode and play it as something Rebecca helps him process. She marries a man who went through something very traumatic. We know what it meant to Abraham, but imagine being the object of that test. I really liked how that turned out.

I had noticed the binding of Isaac was missing from the first episode and figured you couldn’t fit everything in. But no, you saved that for the future.

Yeah, yeah.

You also mentioned the first episode is jam-packed, covering Sarah from a young age all the way through her death. What were the challenges in telling a complete, cohesive story when you’re covering someone’s entire life?

That is a challenge, and I don’t think I’ve ever done that before. These stories take place over decades, which had repercussions in casting. We have young Jacob and young Esau, and then we see Jacob’s boys growing up. It was a casting challenge to track. You have to choose your hero actor playing the character for the majority of the time and then backfill. That was an interesting challenge.

So how did you tell that life story in just an hour of television?

In the one you saw about Sarah, you hear Hagar’s voiceover throughout. We didn’t originally write it like that; we added that spine in the editing room. It used to start with young Abraham and Sarah, but then we realized the story really is really about Hagar and Sarah. So that moment when they first see each other on the banks of the Nile, we realized that could be used to frame things. That voiceover helped the audience know when and where we were. We used titles to tell you where we were, show how many years had passed and used the kids growing up as easy visual clues.

That voiceover really does tie it all together. Looking back at your career, you’ve worked with filmmakers like James Cameron, Steven Spielberg, and Guillermo del Toro. What’s the best lesson or filmmaking advice you’ve heard from one of them or anyone else you’ve worked with?

One thing that stayed with me was hearing Steven Spielberg talk about casting. What he responds to is a sense that the actor is listening to the other actor. That they hadn’t come in and decided what they were going to do and exactly how they are going to play it. Actors should trust that they know the words, and in the moment they need to listen and react to what the other actors are doing. He would see people and say, “No, she wasn’t listening; no he wasn’t listening,” and move on. He has great instincts about these things.

It’s a small thing, but I can see it making a huge difference. Last question: What do you hope Christian audiences will take away from this series? And if non-Christian audiences happen upon it, what do you hope they take away?

The way you framed that question makes it easier to answer. Because Carol and I were always aware that we had two audiences. There is the faith audience who knows these stories—there’s no suspense other than “how are they going to handle these challenging passages in scripture?” Then also there is the audience tuning in because they like period dramas or Minnie Driver or whatever it might be. We always were careful to speak to both.

I’ve heard from folks who watched it with their husbands and then got out their Bibles to talk about the choices we made. They were engaging with our slightly different perspective. More than that, it’s my hope that people for whom these stories are dim memories from Sunday school long ago will go to their shelf, pull off a dusty Bible their grandma left them, and crack it open. God can do His thing in their hearts. That is my hope.

It’s incredible what you’ve accomplished. I love your witness and your role in telling these stories. I really appreciate your time today.

It was fun talking about it. I appreciate you having me.

The following was first published on Film Fisher.

How loosely are you willing to let Biblical figures be interpreted in film?

Do they have to speak verbatim from scriptures, or can their dialogue be modernized? Should the characters resemble their whitewashed appearance in classical paintings, or be more accurate to their cultural background? Can events depicted in such films be extrabiblical if they still resemble what we’d imagine these figures to do?

We all make concessions when watching films about our faith, because scripture is scripture, and movies are not. Dallas Jenkins, creator and director of The Chosen, infamously stated last year “I believe it is important to watch The Chosen as though the Bible didn’t exist.” While this was poorly worded quote that could lead to dangerous interpretations, it speaks to a core truth: Christians must be careful never to let a film or television show be the basis for – or even an undue influence on – their faith.

It’s with this tension in mind that I recently viewed Lotfy Nathan’s new supernatural thriller, The Carpenter’s Son. The film has proven controversial to say the least, so in an effort to better understand what it’s trying to say, my review structure here serves as a (perhaps unusual) blend of theological musings and traditional film analysis. I’ve recently been studying the book of Mark and theologian N.T. Wright’s commentary on that gospel, and as such this has been a fascinating chance to see where the gospels and The Carpenter’s Son are in alignment and where they are at odds with one another.

The Carpenter’s Son is not based on the Bible, but it does feature the characters of Jesus, Joseph, and Mary as it adapts events from the apocryphal and historically controversial Infancy Gospel of Thomas, a text the early church deemed inauthentic and heretical.

In the film, Joseph (Nicolas Cage), Mary (FKA twigs) and their teenage son Jesus (Noah Jupe) have lived for years in Egypt, clinging to their faith and traditions. But a stopover in a small settlement unleashes growing chaos when a mysterious stranger (Isla Johnston) tries to entice young Jesus to abandon his devout father’s rules. With every pull of temptation, the boy is lured into a forbidden world, as a terrified Joseph realizes that a demonic power is at work. Violent, unnatural events inexplicably follow Jesus, and he begins to experience nightmarish visions of the future. Finally, he learns the fearsome truth about his new playmate, as well as the child’s real name: Satan.

Jesus, Temptation, and the Problem of Source

The most immediate source of discomfort for a Christian viewer lies in the film’s depiction of Jesus himself. This is, admittedly, a fault carried over from the heretical Infancy Gospel of Thomas, but regardless of the source, Jesus’ characterization is problematic at best, and blasphemous at worst.

The film portrays teenage Jesus as rebellious, flawed, and profoundly unsure of his own identity and divine nature as he questions who his real father was. Noah Jupe, for his part, delivers an admirable performance, bringing a contemplative maturity yet doubting adolescence to the role.

The film finds firmer thematic footing in its exploration of temptation. Satan’s temptations here are less about earthly power and more about the desire to relieve suffering, an interpretation that at least feels consistent with the spiritual battle Christ would eventually face in the wilderness and in the garden.

The temptations feel effective because this film’s world, more than many shown in Biblical adaptations, is truly a world in need of saving. Death, pain, suffering, and fear are ever-present. The costumes, makeup, and production design all contribute to that feeling, with a grimy, dirty and naturalistic look establishing a fallen Earth. The film’s naturalistic lighting also serves that purpose during daytime scenes, though it creates an overly dark and flat look at night that is far less effective. Satan’s temptations feel appropriately alluring in the film because the world here looks and feels hopeless, a true testament to the entire crew’s work.

The difference though in Jesus’ depiction and battle with temptation in this film is one of identity. Controversial films like The Last Temptation of Christ – which I’ve adamantly defended – still depict Jesus as aware of and confident in His identity as God’s son, but facing temptations about the burden of responsibility on his shoulders (a characterization aligned with Luke 22:42).

But in The Carpenter’s Son, Jesus is unsure of who He is and is acting out as a result, a take I have trouble reconciling with scripture (though, again, in all fairness, this film is based on a non-scripture text). It’s simply a core issue of the character’s depiction, to the point where I wouldn’t fault Christian viewers for being unwilling to watch.

Joseph, Doubt, and Divine Revelation

As much as I take issue with the film’s depiction of Jesus, the true emotional core of The Carpenter’s Son lies not with Jesus, but with Joseph, carefully written and magnificently portrayed by Nicolas Cage. Joseph’s arc in the film has lingered with me long after watching, a representation of the Biblical stubbornness of the Jewish people and the new hope that God sent through Christ.

At the start of the film, Joseph sees God’s light shine on him during the birth of Jesus, but years later he feels as if God is absent during their time in Egypt. “My faith has become a broken crutch,” he cries to the heavens. “I beg You, how much longer must I wait to see Your light again?” Try as he might, he struggles to hear God’s voice and battles doubts about whether Jesus is truly God’s son.

Though still not biblically rooted, it’s much easier to align this portrayal of Joseph with his biblical counterpart, whether it’s Joseph’s pre-birth doubts in Matthew 1:19 or Mark 3:21’s mention of how Jesus’s family “thought he was crazy and went to get him under control.”

But even on a metatextual level, Joseph functions in the film as a powerful metaphor for the Pharisees and the Jewish people of the era, clinging to ritual in the face of a God they no longer perceive. Joseph is so stuck in the Jewish traditions and laws that he fails to see the new thing God is doing through Jesus.

“What Jesus is doing can’t be fitted in to the existing ways of thinking and living that his fellow first-century Galileans already had. Jesus was challenging, by his whole kingdom-movement, the very basis on which the Pharisees had built up their edifice.”
- Mark for Everyone, Tom Wright

His frustration with Jesus’s lack of adherence to the Law leads to the film’s best scene, a fight with Mary about Jesus’s true identity. When Mary asks if he has doubts about her immaculate conception, Joseph confesses, “Of course I have doubts, my faith is shattered.”

Joseph is still bound by legalistic fear and fundamentalism. His prayers are delivered in a monotonous chant, practiced rather than heartfelt. When he punishes Jesus by making him list the things one cannot do on the Sabbath, there are clear parallels to the many conflicts between the Pharisees and Jesus over the Law, specifically the Sabbath (Mark 2:23-28, Mark 7:1-13).

THE MOTHER
He is innocent.

THE CARPENTER
How do you know He is innocent?

THE MOTHER
Because of our faith. Because we know who He is.

THE CARPENTER
But is it good? Is it righteous?

The Sabbath had become a weapon for many Jews, a symbol of an exclusive, fiercely nationalistic commitment. Joseph’s fixation on these specific rules highlights how, for him, “the rule mattered more than the reality” (Mark for Everyone, Tom Wright). The true meaning of the commandment, celebrating God’s redemption, had been lost beneath a layer of human custom.

Even through his fundamentalism, the film does offer glimpses of Joseph’s virtue, such as when he washes Mary’s feet. This act of servanthood suggests that despite his flaws, his faith still leads him to exhibit the true, Godlike love that Jesus would later perfect.

In the third act, The Carpenter’s Son pushes Joseph’s internal struggle to both a physical and theological climax. When a snake bites Joseph’s leg (with echoes of Gen 3:14-15), Jesus arrives and demands that Joseph tell him who his Father is. Hesitant, due in large part to his belief that to speak God’s name is a sin, Joseph finally admits that Yahweh is Jesus’s Father. Only then does Jesus heal the snakebite, as if to tie Joseph’s physical healing to his spiritual breakthrough and echo Christ’s words in the gospels, “Your faith has healed you.” The snake, in this context, becomes a metaphor for how sin was closing Joseph off to God’s new work in Jesus.

Joseph’s journey from rigid religious adherence to the eventual confession of Christ’s identity underscores the film’s best (if perhaps unintended) theological lesson: the law and the scriptures all point to Christ.

“The scriptures spoke of purity, and set up codes as signposts to it; Jesus was offering the reality. When you arrive at the destination you don’t need the signposts any more, not because they were worthless but precisely because they were correct. The starting-point is to realize that the Jewish scriptures aren’t to be seen as a timeless code of behaviour, but as the story which leads to Jesus.”
- Mark for Everyone, Tom Wright

The Carpenter’s Son forces Joseph to let go of the signposts (his strict, nationalistic interpretation of the Law) because the destination (the living Christ) has arrived. It’s an incredible and emotional journey, one well-suited to Nicolas Cage’s frequently overdramatic nature. Cage swings big here, delivering a performance that is at times jarringly out of sync with the others, but which perfectly matches the character’s spiritual dissonance with the divine events unfolding around him.

A Film For No One?

For all its strengths and flaws, The Carpenter’s Son ultimately suffers from a lack of clear audience focus. A film intended for Christian audiences – even one meant to challenge them – should have been more careful in its handling of the nature of Christ. But a film intended for secular audiences might have taken greater narrative risks instead of relying so heavily on subtle biblical imagery and themes that only religious viewers would truly recognize and understand.

This makes The Carpenter’s Son a particularly difficult work to unpack. It’s not scripturally accurate, but it never claims to be. And while many Christians (including myself) will take issue with its depiction of Jesus, I hope viewers will at least take the opportunity to place themselves in Joseph’s shoes and arc.

Particularly in this time of advent, how will we react when confronted with the new work of our living, mysterious God?

Welcome to this month’s Cinema Snapshots! At the beginning of each month, I reflect on what I watched the prior month and provide a quick “snapshot” of my thoughts on those films. So without further ado, here are my Cinema Snapshots for February 2026.

28 Years Later: The Bone Temple

Dr. Kelson finds himself in a shocking new relationship - with consequences that could change the world as they know it - and Spike’s encounter with Jimmy Crystal becomes a nightmare he can’t escape.

An early contender for best of the year, the 28 Days Later franchise revival continues to defy expectations with this newest entry. The Bone Temple is quieter, darker, and more spiritual than I ever expected. Ralph Fiennes delivers yet another fantastic performance as an introspective, secluded scientist, and Jack O’Connell provides the perfect foil as a crazed cult leader.

How would Christians respond to a zombie apocalypse? Would they turn away from God in disbelief? Embrace the demonic? Or continue to persevere and trust in God’s plan? From Fiennes’ character wondering of another, “Were you lost and now are found?” to O’Connell crying out “My father, why have you forsaken me?,” this film is quite overt in its Christian references and symbolism. The Bone Temple certainly earns its R rating due to some graphic violence (not unusual for this series or the zombie genre as a whole), but those that watch are in for some incredible musings on faith.

★★★★☆

Good Luck, Have Fun, Don’t Die

A man claiming to be from the future takes the patrons of an iconic Los Angeles diner hostage in search of unlikely recruits in a quest to save the world.

Good Luck, Have Fun, Don’t Die is a little long and a little preachy, but the entire film—including the length and preachiness—is such a singular, coherent vision about artificial intelligence and humanity that it just manages to work. Director Gore Verbinski brings together insane visual concepts, wild performances (Sam Rockwell is a delight), a fun musical score from Geoff Zanelli, and a timeline-jumping screenplay in one of the most fun blockbusters in recent years.

★★★★☆

The Housemaid

Trying to escape her past, Millie accepts a job as a live-in housemaid for the wealthy Nina and Andrew Winchester. But what begins as a dream job quickly unravels into something far more dangerous—a sexy, seductive game of secrets, scandal, and power.

The Housemaid seemingly never aspires to be great, but there’s nothing wrong with a decent mystery thriller. Amanda Seyfried is outstanding, stealing the show with a campy, over-the-top performance that was perfect for the film’s tone. Sydney Sweeney unfortunately isn’t as great as her co-lead, but I’m not sure this casting suited her, and the role itself is pretty thankless and blandly written.

★★★☆☆

Now You See Me: Now You Don’t

The original Four Horsemen reunite with a new generation of illusionists to take on powerful diamond heiress Veronika Vanderberg, who leads a criminal empire built on money laundering and trafficking. The new and old magicians must overcome their differences to work together on their most ambitious heist yet.

I really enjoy the first two Now You See Me films, as cheesy as they can be. But this third entry in the franchise just never worked for me from start to finish. The film introduces far too many characters for its own good (perhaps in an attempt to create spinoff films down the line), but even stranger, features very little magic.

This series has always blurred the line between heist film and magic show, but here the filmmakers lean fully into the crime thriller genre, adding magic tricks as set decoration rather than as the focal point. And that’s to say nothing of the wildest attempt at a South African accent you’ll ever hear. Count this as a disappointment.

★★☆☆☆

Jane Austen’s Period Drama

England, 1813. In the middle of a long-awaited marriage proposal, Miss Estrogenia Talbot gets her period. Her suitor, Mr. Dickley, mistakes the blood for an injury, and it soon becomes clear that his expensive education has missed a spot.

I don’t often write about short films, but this Oscar-nominated short is an absolute riot. Created by a YouTuber, Jane Austen’s Period Drama is simple, hilarious, and beautifully shot, and I’m glad the Academy broke off from their typical stuffy and depressing nominees to give this short some recognition. You can watch the full film above!

From the Archives

Jeanine Thomas is far from your typical Hollywood producer.

From her background in psychology and education to working for prisons and tech companies (all while raising four kids), she demonstrates a keen interest in understanding and caring for humanity. Her film production debut, The Optimist, represents the culmination of her life experiences and the fulfillment of a decade-long promise she made to a Holocaust survivor.

The Optimist tells the true story of Herbert Heller (Stephen Lang), who kept his miraculous escape from the Auschwitz-Birkenau death march a secret for 60 years, even from his family. That is, until he meets Abbey (Elsie Fisher), a young teenager whose own brush with pain and death inspires him to open up as well, leading the two of them to exchange their stories as a meaningful and healing friendship is born.

The production of The Optimist was itself a feat of endurance. During the pre-production process, Thomas was diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer that had metastasized to her brain. She used that sense of urgency to push the film through the challenges of the pandemic and her own ongoing treatment, filming in both the redwood forests of Marin County and the historic streets of Prague.

Thomas and I recently spoke about the making of the film. During our conversation, which has been edited for length and clarity, we discussed her connection with Heller, the casting of Stephen Lang, and how her personal battle with cancer gave her the perspective necessary to finish a story about finding hope in the darkest of places.

Over the years, we’ve seen many events and figures of the Holocaust get explored in cinema. So, what was it about Herbert Heller’s specific journey that made you feel like this was a story that needed to be told?

Herbert was an amazing man. I loved spending time with him, and he told me all about his story, which just blew my mind, knowing that he escaped at 15 by himself after his family had disappeared. That was a big piece. And then he said, “Hey, get me talks in school.” So then I watched him speak to these classes and they really stayed quiet; they really listened and talked to him after. It just made me realize, “Wow, this is a movie.” Not just his story alone, but also how he’s connecting with these kids and giving them a different perspective.

One of the stories that he told me—and he showed me the letter—is that he got letters from all of the kids. One of the first times he spoke at a school, he got a letter from a girl saying, “Wow, I was going to write a suicide note to my parents this week, and after hearing your story, if you can make it through what you made it through, I’ve got this.” There are so many stories like that, and kids are looking for those connection points that give them a reason to stay here and find a reason to stay. That’s why I was pulled to make this film.

Absolutely, the film really does show how Herbert connects with youth in a special way. We hear all about the attention span issues that youth have, and there certainly seems to be a generational disconnect in our world at times. What do you think it was that made his story and message resonate so well with young people?

First off, I think they hear, “Okay, this 88-year-old Holocaust survivor is coming in to speak at your school,” and they think, “Great, we can sit and do nothing.” Then they’re impacted by the fact that he’s up there and he’s funny. For him to tell this story that I think weighed on him a lot more than he let on, he had to intersperse pieces of laughing—making people laugh, and making himself laugh, I’m sure. I think it was a pleasant surprise to these kids. Because it was presented that way, they heard what he was saying more. It affected them more and made them think, “Well, maybe my past does matter.” It gave them a very different perspective: if he can make it through that, why am I complaining about a broken iPhone that my parents won’t fix?

You were there, you had a chance to get to know him and see him talking with kids. During the pre-production process, when you were looking at casting his role, what were you looking for? What was it about Stephen Lang? Were there any qualities that made you think, “Yes, that is Herbert”? What drew you to certain actors to play him?

I obviously wanted someone Jewish and someone that kind of looked like Herbert. Our casting agency out of New York—I didn’t even know who Stephen Lang was—we came up with some different names for them and they said, “What about Stephen Lang?” I had never seen Avatar at this time. And they were like “Yeah, he was in Avatar,” and I said, “That doesn’t mean anything to me.” But I saw his picture and, for me, his picture looked so much like Herbert. I said, “Yes.” Everyone else told me he was an amazing actor.

Fun story: when he showed up to shoot—we shot the film in Marin, California, and also in Prague—the director and I took him out to dinner. He showed up in cowboy boots, dressed up, and he was the most stylish 70-year-old I’ve ever seen. We had a wonderful dinner, and after he left, I said to the director, “Finn, he’s amazing, he’s a great guy, but how is he ever going to play Herbert?” Then I was on the set a couple days later and all of a sudden I saw this guy dressed up like Herbert shuffling along. I did a double take and it was Stephen. He stayed in character the entire time he was shooting. He was amazing. So, back to your question, I let the other people choose because I didn’t really know; I just knew he looked like him. If they said he was a great actor, great. And he was not only a great actor, but just a really good person.

He portrays the role wonderfully. You have a really unique background in education and psychology. How did you feel that background, not being from the film industry, helped you during production? And were there any times where it might have been a hindrance and you had to rely on other people?

Oh, I had to rely on other people a lot, and I still do. If we’re being real, I think it takes a village for anything we do. So, in that realm, it was good. As far as jumping into this, I feel like everything I’ve done in the past brought me to this point to be able to make impactful film and media. The psychology aspect really helped me shape the making of this film. Working in a jail for a while helped. Raising four kids definitely helped. I’ve started other companies and worked in the tech space, too. All of it feels like it was just getting me ready for this.

[The team] shared with me a little bit about your personal journey and your battle with cancer. I was wondering if you would mind sharing some of your story and how that impacted your approach to the film?

Yeah. Where do I start? We worked on the script for three years before I got sick. We got the script to a place where I felt we were done, but then COVID hit and none of us knew what to do. The project went on a shelf. Fast forward a year, I was having issues with vertigo. After three months of vertigo, I decided to have it checked out. They did an MRI and found three tumors in my brain. They said, “You’ve got to have surgery right away.” I went to Boston for surgery and they told me there was a 50% chance I’d make it through, and if I did, they didn’t know what my life would be like after.

I sat in my room alone because of COVID. I very much heard a voice say, “If you want to go during this surgery, you can. And if you stay, you have to do what you came here to do.” I remember saying, whether it was out loud or not, “I’m coming back. I have a film to make.” I wasn’t nervous going into the surgery at all. They were able to remove two of the tumors. One of the tumors shrunk from the chemo pills I’m still on today. They tested the tumors and found I had Stage 4 lung cancer that had metastasized to the brain. I had to do radiation for a month. During that time, I called my screenwriter, who then became my director, and I said, “Hey, we need to make this film right away.” We started the process while I was doing radiation. As soon as I could fly, I flew back to San Francisco. That was the summer of 2021, and we started shooting in April of 2022.

Looking back on it now—and I still deal with cancer; I have tests every three months—the silver lining is that it has given me urgency. I don’t take any day for granted. I really wanted to finish this film. It made me jump through hurdles that I’m pretty sure I would have run away from before the cancer. In a way, it was like the universe giving me a gift and saying, “You’ve got big stuff to do here. You’ve got changes to make; make them.” The silver lining of it helped me through this process and to the finish line more than it hurt me.

What a miracle. You are so incredibly strong, and I hope you know that. Your story is remarkable. My outlet focuses on finding spiritual themes and resonance in film. Do you think there are any specific themes that stand out in this film that a faith-based audience in particular might appreciate?

I think there’s so much faith in this film, and perseverance for sure. It’s about giving people a reason to live and a reason to go deeper. As far as the spiritual aspect, at least for me, we are all being asked to dig deeper and do better. I feel like this film really helps people do better. It’s very hard for anyone of any age to walk into that theater and walk out the same person. I believe they walk out a better person. The beauty of this film to me is its non-divisiveness, which the world needs right now. Spiritually, again, I feel that message I heard before: “Let’s all come together, let’s all do better. Let’s all create heaven on earth.” I feel like this film is a stepping stone.

We’ve already seen how Herbert’s story united the young people he spoke to, and hopefully this film does the same in uniting audiences. You alluded earlier to the long production life of this film. How did things change from your initial concept to where it ended up?

Looking back on the script, we really created the movie that I wanted way back then. One of the biggest differences was the location. We were originally going to shoot everything in one place, but after I got out of the hospital, I realized we had to shoot in both locations. Prague is Prague; I didn’t want to try to recreate it, and I didn’t want to try to recreate the redwoods either. That change helped the script become more alive.

When I started making this, I thought it would take three years. Everyone laughed at me, and now I get why. But the story stayed the same. Herbert passed in 2021. In my talks with him between 2017 and 2018, I told him, “I’m going to make this film; you’ve got to give me 10 years, you’ve got to be at the premiere.” He said, “No problem.” He was very alive then—alive in life. His wife passed during COVID, and I saw him be ready to go after that. I said, “It’s okay. You’re not going to be here, but I am going to keep my promise and I will finish this film and it will go out to the world.” Honoring Herbert is what helped me keep it the same from inception to release.

You always love to hear that the idea made it through even over a long span of time. I did want to ask you about the title. It was called Avenue of the Giants at one point, and then Liberation was discussed. Now it’s called The Optimist. What were the discussions there and what made you feel like The Optimist was the right title?

That change came about this summer. We were in talks with someone about distributing the film and he said, “You’ve got to get butts in seats, and you’re going to need a better title. Avenue of the Giants feels very indie. If it’s on a poster you’re walking by, you might glance at it, but you don’t know what it means, so you just keep walking.”

We all came together, and the director came up with the name The Optimist. We all chose that name for many reasons. Everyone wants optimism today; everyone is leaning towards hope. Herbert is definitely an optimist. His father was an optimist. Abbey, after going through what she went through and moving in a different direction, you could say she has become an optimist.

The working title way back when was Lucky Man. Whenever I was talking to Herbert, he always said, “I just got lucky. I’m just lucky.” I said, “Herbert, you made a lot of your luck happen.” Herbert’s older brother was very academically smart, and Herbert would often have survivor’s guilt, feeling like his brother should have lived instead of him. But I told him, “You weren’t just lucky, Herbert. You grabbed a rucksack that was off to the side. So many people saw that and walked by because they didn’t want to step out of line; you stepped out of line and grabbed it. You got lucky that it was still there, but you made your luck happen.” We didn’t go with Lucky Man because the storyline of the girl took on more importance over time. I felt it was important not to focus on just one person; it was bigger than just him.

I want to go back to something else you mentioned: the film shooting in both Prague and California. Having seen the film, I can’t imagine having to choose only one location because they are so distinct. Even the coloring is different. You’ve got lots of long, slow takes when you’re in Prague, whereas you’ve got a little bit more handheld work in California. I loved how visually distinct you made the two timelines. Talk to me a little bit about how you differentiated the two.

We didn’t want to go to full black and white because a lot of films do that. If you notice, the coloring is made to feel a bit like sepia. Our production team over there, Stillking Films, was phenomenal. They were absolutely amazing and I learned so much working with them. I am so glad that we chose the two different shooting areas, even though it was like making two movies and trying to put them together. I wasn’t in the editing room, but I had a lot of talks with them. It’s nice that they look so different. That wasn’t my creative genius stuff, but I’m glad it happened.

One question I always like to ask is: Is there anything you wish I had asked you about? Something you haven’t been able to talk about that was important to you during this process?

Well, I feel it’s important to mention that around the film, we’ve created two awareness campaigns with everything I have learned through this whole process. I really wanted to give light to two issues that are near and dear to my heart. With Holocaust survivors, we have over 30,000 to 35,000 living in the US today. Of that number, 30% to 35% are living in poverty. This is something a lot of people don’t know, including a lot of my Jewish friends. We are doing an awareness campaign around that, as well as helping fund a company called KAVOD SHEF, which is out of Tennessee. They help “fill the gap” for Holocaust survivors in need. I feel like that’s important for everyone in the U.S. to know.

For the teen side, we are bringing awareness to an organization called Bring Change to Mind. They’re stepping into a lot of schools and helping kids destigmatize talking about mental health, connecting, and learning perseverance. I’m actually giving 20% of my proceeds to KAVOD SHEF and 20% to Bring Change to Mind. Outside of the film, I’m working on ways to bring down the suicide statistics. For 10 to 34-year-olds, the second leading cause of death is suicide, which to me should be like 1%. I’m looking at ways to help our change-makers of the future, our youth, get excited about being alive, finding their purpose, and connecting with love rather than fear, coming into this world to make it better.

I’ve loved hearing your story and the story of this film. It’s incredible what you were able to accomplish. I really appreciate you giving me the time to speak with you today.

Oh, thank you. It’s been great.

The Optimist is in theaters March 11 & 15. You can watch a video of my interview with Jeanine Thomas below.

The following was first published on Film Fisher.

“You think you can just build a prison of memories to lock her in?”

In Inception, Cobb’s personal dream sessions break every one of his rules for dream worlds. He warns others not to base dream worlds on reality, stating “building dreams out of your own memories is the surest way to lose your grip on what’s real and what’s a dream.” But every time he dreams, the dreams are built from real memories of his dead wife, Mal, and their young kids.

Inception can be a complicated film to explain, but at its most basic level, the film is about Cobb, a thief who steals information by entering his targets’ dreams – their subconscious. Wanted and on the run, a client offers to erase Cobb’s criminal history and reunite him with his children if he’ll instead plant an idea in someone’s subconscious, a process called inception.

Cobb’s status as a fugitive due to his past as a criminal provides a constant external threat to his mission, but these external forces are also mirrored internally as he’s haunted in his dreams by the malicious memory of Mal, who is sabotaging missions and threatening his grip on reality. Whether in the real world or in his dreams, Cobb can’t escape the past and can’t stop looking back at what might have been.

This culminates in a showdown with Mal several dream layers deep (Limbo), as she threatens to ruin his final mission and any chance for a future of freedom. It’s here that Cobb is faced with a choice: Stay with Mal in the crumbling hellscape of his past memories, or let go, move forward, and seek a fresh start.

To the audience this seems like an easy decision: just move forward. But as stories have warned us for millennia, looking back is a far more tempting proposition.

A Pillar of Salt

While only taking up a portion of two chapters in the Bible (Genesis 18-19), Christians and non-Christians alike are likely familiar with the story of Sodom and Gomorrah’s destruction, where Lot’s wife was turned to a pillar of salt. Angels come to save Lot and his family from the cities’ destruction, warning them, “Run for your lives! Don’t even look back.” But Lot’s wife couldn’t resist. Lot’s Wife, a poem by Russian-Soviet poet Anna Akhmatova, is particularly memorable for its description of her temptation and demise:

And the just man trailed God’s shining agent,
over a black mountain, in his giant track,
while a restless voice kept harrying his woman:
“It’s not too late, you can still look back

at the red towers of your native Sodom,
the square where once you sang, the spinning-shed,
at the empty windows set in the tall house
where sons and daughters blessed your marriage-bed.”

A single glance: a sudden dart of pain
stitching her eyes before she made a sound...
Her body flaked into transparent salt,
and her swift legs rooted to the ground.

Jesus recalled this story in his teachings, warning his followers that when the Son of Man appears “no one on a rooftop should go down into the house to get anything. No one in a field should go back to the house for anything. Remember what happened to Lot’s wife” (Luke 17:30-32). In Inception, it’s easy to assume that Mal is the analogue to Lot’s wife, with Cobb being Lot. But Cobb much more closely resembles Lot’s wife, paralyzed like a pillar of salt by his inability to move on.

As biblical scholar Theodor Gaster puts it, “Within the dramatic context of the story this means, of course, that they must set their faces hopefully toward the future, not nostalgically toward the past” (Myth, Legend and Custom in the Old Testament, 1969). But there’s much more nuance to the lessons of Inception and Lot’s wife than simply forgetting the past.

Christian Memory

Christianity does not teach that forgetting the past is good. In fact, remembering rightly is essential. “Do this in remembrance of me,” Christ instructs his disciples (Luke 22:19). Israel cherishes the Exodus story, with even baptism itself serving as an ongoing “acting out” of God’s deliverance from Egypt. The psalmist remembers the deeds and miracles of the Lord (Psalm 77:11).

So memory itself isn’t the danger. The danger is how we remember, clinging to the past as though you could – or should – live there again. It turns memory into a refusal to accept the present, a grasping after what God has already asked us to release, and a substitute for trust in God’s future.

This is Lot’s wife, practically saying, “I must have what I’ve lost. If this is the price of moving forward, I won’t pay it.” This is also Cobb’s version of Mal. He remembers her out of his own grief and guilt, not through pure love. His memory becomes an idol and as a result his dream sessions, no matter how hostile, become a world he would rather live in than reality.

Jesus tells a potential follower, “No man who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God” (Luke 9:62). The Wisdom of Solomon even calls the pillar of salt a sign that Lot’s wife “refused to believe.” This description clarifies what was already implied in the Genesis account and is emphasized by Christ: looking back when we’ve been called to trust in what’s ahead is a sign of disbelief.

Sadhu Sundar Singh succinctly and powerfully emphasized the Christian calling to look ahead in his hymn, I Have Decided to Follow Jesus:

I have decided to follow Jesus;
No turning back, no turning back.

The world behind me, the cross before me;
No turning back, no turning back.

Past Destruction and Future Hope

As Inception reaches its end and we travel with Cobb deeper and deeper into the dream worlds, we see that Limbo greatly resembles a destroyed Sodom, as the screenplay poetically describes:

Ariadne lies in the SURF, STARING up at a CLOUDLESS SKY. A tremendous BOOM prompts her to look around her- URBAN BUILDINGS PILED right down to the water. The buildings are DECAYING, falling into the ocean like a GLACIER calving. Cobb WADES towards her through the shallow water. Ariadne looks up at the crumbling city around them.

ARIADNE
This is your world?

COBB
It was. And this is where she’ll be.

“This is where she’ll be” is a fitting moment of clarity for Cobb. It’s a recognition not just of Mal’s physical location, but that she is a piece of his past, crumbling around him. The past is the only place she can exist.

As he confronts Mal for the last time, he finally realizes it’s time to move on. It’s time to look away from the death, destruction, sin, and decay that defines his past and this Limbo world. “I miss you more than I can bear,” Cobb tells her. “But we had our time together. And now I have to let go.”

Inception and the story of Lot’s wife encourage us to strive for redemptive remembrance, a type of memory that fuels hope. Cobb’s entire arc is a battle between destructive and redemptive memory. His backward-looking memory traps him in Limbo, where he clings to his dead wife and the destroyed world they had built. His forward-looking memory seeks to reunite with his children and finally lets him leave illusions behind.

And in the film’s final moments, he saves Saito (the mission’s benefactor) in the same way, pleading with Saito’s memory of what was promised not as a way of looking back, but so they can move forward to the future. “I came back for you... I came to remind you of what you once knew... to take a leap of faith.”

Inception’s ambiguous ending is among the most famous in recent cinema history. Cobb, believing he’s back in the real world, spins a top that tells him if he’s awake or dreaming. But before he can get his answer, he sees his children and is so filled with joy that he abandons the top so he can embrace them.

The spinning top, left unresolved as the film cuts to black, leaves viewers with a tense uncertainty. Is he still trapped in a dream? Or has he made it back to the real world? But as it relates to Inception’s themes, this question doesn’t actually matter. Cobb’s character has overcome his inability to move on; he’s stopped looking back at a life of mistakes and is fully ready to embrace the future.

Lot’s wife looked back and lost her life.

Cobb finally looks forward ... and that promised future is all that matters.