“Son of God”
Directed by Christopher Spencer
Starring Diogo Morgado, Sebastian Knapp, Darwin Shaw, Greg Hicks, Roma Downey, Amber Rose Revah
Drama
138 Mins
PG-13

In the beginning, there was a voice-over, and the voice-over was long, and the film was without thought.

So often, directors confuse narration for exposition, pontification for perspicacity. What initiates Son of God is irreverence. To unfurl the tale, John (Sebastian Knapp) begins by reciting his own gospel. But speaking his own verse doesn’t create depth, it barely brushes the surface. As the beginning goes, so the rest of the work follows. In a matter of seconds, director Christopher Spencer opens a box he never thinks to unpack.

There’s a mural in the heart of Minneapolis, painted on an old building that sits right on the I-35W highway exit. No one really knows how long it’s been there or who painted it, but it’s withstood time’s trying test and Minnesota’s endless winters. And, just like anything that can brave the cold, Minneapolis has taken it in as its own.

My mom and I used to drive past it when she would drop me off at school. I’d see it every day: that warm bearded face, the rainbow and those ominous words—”Love Power.” He always had his arms spread, asking “So, what?” as if I were missing something. The mural became a lost fragment of my childhood, a curious symbol I never understood. It never stopped smiling.

In Summer 2007, Bridge 9340—the I-35W Mississippi River Bridge my mom and I used to cross—collapsed, just blocks away from that damned mural. Fourteen people were killed, 145 more injured. My mom drove over it that day. Yet there was Jesus on the wall, still smiling in the faded light with his arms spread wide. “So, what?”

The Bible is a clamshell pack of questions just waiting to be cut open. Anyone can repeat the gospel, but what good does that do if nothing is being questioned or held in critical doubt? Who is John? Why is his word important? And who is this Jesus guy? All questions that need to explored. Spencer handles these inquiries as delicately as a UPS guy handles a package; his film delivers as much substance as a packing peanut.

Son of God’s main problem is that it never gives thought to anything. The film is being marketed as a powerful, compelling, epic retelling of Jesus’ life from birth to resurrection. Truly, truly I say to you, Spencer’s latest work is none of those things.

How this film was even made requires some kind of deep noetic exploration into Christopher Spencer’s mind. Confusion and incongruity are his tools, awful storytelling his trade. He’s the master of “tell, don’t show.” Even with the Bible as source material, he somehow manages to flummox everything. For someone whose name means “Christ-bearer,” all he does is trample Him and befuddle us.

Most scenes quote Jesus (played catastrophically by Diogo Morgado—we’ll get to him later) word-for-word, but their meaning doesn’t seem to matter or even fit into the narrative. We’re made to believe his every word is profound, but he just seems dazed and protean. Even for those who know the Bible it’s hard to follow Spencer’s vision as he sloppily slams ambiguous scenes together like pegs into round holes. As such, Son of God essentially becomes a cinematic SparkNotes for the Lord’s Word—the Jesus Storybook Bible of biblical films. Call it the Caption of the Christ.

Spencer’s first feat in confusion comes early on and never relents. Everyone in this film is apparently veddy-veddy British, as if they were all cast at the local London Actors’ Studio. Whether this was intentional or Spencer just said “fuck it,” and gave up isn’t clear. For a story that tries to adhere to Biblical truth, this choice is so foolish and so absolutely bad so as to discredit the entire work on its own. Overall, the acting is putrid, especially given the whole British-accent-in-Jerusalem thing, which exacerbates the terribleness of it all. Roman governors and Jewish priests are more British than Emma Thompson, and Jesus’ cast of disciples seem taken out of a Monty Python skit. They’re certainly just as (unintentionally) funny.

There isn’t much to say about Jesus Himself. A Portuguese guy, Diogo Morgado, is dreadfully miscast as the bearded messiah. Morgado is to Jesus as Juan Pablo is to The Bachelor. His jumbled, mangled English locks him into a constant perplexed state whereby a prophet becomes a muddling fool. Frankly, he had some good moments, but he just wasn’t right for the part. Especially considering, well (Spoiler Alert for the Heaven-bound), that Jesus wasn’t white.

Visually, this film looks as if it were filmed on sandpaper in place of 35mm film. Buildings look grimy, the “stunning locales” are butt-ugly, and the shot selection is atrocious. Credit to Spencer, I actually felt like I had sand in my pants. As if that weren’t enough, even the CGI is a special kind of awful. Which is cute until you realize that this film had a $22 million budget. Where that money went? No clue, but it definitely wasn’t spent on making the buildings look like they weren’t stolen from Journey of Jesus: The Calling. Son of God isn’t homily: it’s homely.

Spencer stamps his own dramatic flair on every moment. Clearly he’s a fan of the extreme close-up, as it was used almost half the time. After Jesus dies (SPOILER), we get an on-screen “3 Days Later” in Arabian font. Really. Nice. Touch. Not even Hans Zimmer (The Dark Knight, Inception) can save this piteously boring dreck; his doleful score peppers every moment with fallacious feeling. Boy, did that dulcimer’s minor chords communicate depth of emotion. Then, an eagle cry: GYAHHH.

Look, Son of God didn’t need to be a hermeneutical Bible study, it just needed real emotion, real passion and real questions. Without thought, word is fallow. For a film that promises an epic, truthful retelling of the Bible, all it did was leave me hungry for actual answers. Give me the real Jesus.

We’ve all got a “Love Power:” our own figure in the light, our symbol for hope and security that we keep deep inside. Connecting with that figure in the light is religion; doubting it is faith. Ultimately, Son of God never cared to ask “so, what?” Yet, somehow, somewhere, Jesus is still smiling.

Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.