One of the most important things Jeymes Samuel’s The Book of Clarence needed to do was distinguish itself from Monty Python’s Life of Brian, a film it had almost no chance of not being compared to. Perhaps aware of this, Samuel leans into the imagery at the start, panning from a shot of an apparent Jesus on the cross to his own hero Clarence (LaKeith Stanfield) very much in the vein of how the titular Brian met his fate. But The Book of Clarence does prove itself quite different, even as it makes a few similar points and allusions. The big one though is that unlike Life of Brian it takes itself and even its theology remotely seriously. To the point that where the former film was famously highly controversial within the church, The Book of Clarence could potentially be embraced by it.
Though maybe just up to the part where Jesus is depicted as black (played by Nicholas Pinnock). Otherwise very little plays out in the movie that contradicts the Biblical story or upends its major figures. Samuel is however very interested in the subject of faith, which forms a backbone of his protagonist’s arc. Clarence is an atheist at the start of the movie -a very rare thing in first century Jerusalem- and a notable contradiction to his twin brother Thomas, one of the twelve Apostles. The underdog Clarence is a bit of a petty thief, in debt to and in danger from a powerful loan shark. In an effort to improve his station and make some fast money, he schemes to first become an Apostle and then claim to be a Messiah himself, preaching the virtues of logic and reason with the same fervour that Jesus does faith -ultimately landing him in a similar kind of trouble with Roman authorities as the more legitimate Messiah.
And the film is very serious on that mark, as demonstrated through several scenes in which characters, from Thomas to John the Baptist (David Oyelewo) to Mary (Alfre Woodard) try to convince Clarence of the authenticity of Jesus's divinity -while he won't be convinced. All the while he is the one seen as stubborn and unyielding to the simple power of belief. It is unusual for a movie that is otherwise fairly satirical with regards to its setting and subject, to so openly and earnestly espouse a pro-faith theme; to cast Clarence as a kind of Ben-Hur figure on an arc of conversion while drawing the world he exists in with wry social commentary -for example likening the Romans' treatment of the Hebrews (all of whom are black) to police brutality and systems of race-based inequity.
Certainly within the sardonic context he establishes -a world that in attitude is not unlike his Old West in The Harder they Fall-, Samuel preaches an interesting theology. One that comments playfully on the presumed whiteness of Jesus and cleverly subverts the crucifixion for this, only to play straight an applicable sacrifice for the purpose of personal growth. A theology that directly links ancient Israelite struggle and the faith of the early Christians to the plight of the marginalized bleeding into the present. It expresses a very particular, fascinating religiosity, seemingly prioritizing the conversion of one man, yet it’s not supported much by the film's critical qualities.
Among these is Clarence himself whose faith journey is simply not that interesting. Outside of some vague affection for his mother (Marianne Jean-Baptiste) whom Thomas seemingly abandoned to follow Jesus, there isn’t a strongly defined sense of why it matters that he become a believer -apart from the usual antipathy found in Christian media towards atheists. He’s drawn as something of a typical fun roguish cynic, who sees ambitions, whether to join the apostles or claim to be the Messiah himself, as a scheme of revenue and exploitation. And save for a handful of interactions the question of his faith is thrown to the background until it becomes a principal theme around the last act. It’s a wishy-washy thing, and that seems to be Samuel’s attitude through the film, almost torn between wanting to make an earnest homage to classic Biblical epics and sending them up.
He does at least keep the film entertaining through some style and musical choices, as well as an astoundingly impressive cast of established and up-and-coming black talent alike. As Biblical characters, in addition to Woodard, who is never not magnetic, and an energized Oyelewo, the film features Teyana Taylor as Mary Magdalene, Micheal Ward as Judas Iscariot, and Omar Sy as slave turned vocal rebel Barabbas -probably the most interesting character of the movie. Anna Diop plays Clarence’s principal love interest Varinia, the sister of the crime lord, while RJ Cyler is his best friend and accomplice Elijah, and Caleb McLaughlin appears as their occasional sidekick Dirty Zeke the driver. James McAvoy’s Pontius Pilate is a delight, and Benedict Cumberbatch in a role I won’t spoil turns out maybe the funniest performance I’ve seen from him yet.
The movie is funny every now and then, though it doesn’t invest so much in its humour as may be expected. It’s got a solid mood to it, particular choices in music and pacing that give it that same modern cultural flare that The Harder They Fall applied to its period setting; but a preoccupation with the sincerity to its message -though in its own way bold- renders it a bit tedious. Especially around the crucifixion, which is extremely intense and serious. There’s symbolism to be found here too, relating again to the trauma of black American history, but it is indulgent, and especially with the subtle proselytizing taking place. Overall, the movie could have stood to emphasize its humour more, Samuel does have a strong sensibility for it -as in a miracle scene (the film’s last wholly comic beat) where Clarence after confessing the Messiah bit was a scam tries to prove he can’t walk on water only to against all odds do it. It may not be the movie that Samuel wanted to make, but it would have been a better one.
Still, there’s a kind of cultural, theological reclamation happening here that is not altogether unwarranted. The Book of Clarence, in filling a void of black examinations of Christian faith and history (outside the exhaustive realms of Evangelical-produced drivel) is certainly interesting if nothing else. If it was more sure of itself or more effective on either its satirical or sincere counts, it would’ve worked a lot better. It might have lived up to the shadow of either Life of Brian or Ben-Hur, instead of sitting awkwardly within.
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