In the decades since the release of Monty Python’s 1979 religious satire, The Life of Brian, members of the celebrated comedy troupe have contended that the film – arguably their best – was never meant to be an act of blasphemy. “We always stated Brian wasn’t blasphemous, but heretical,” the late director Terry Jones said in 2011, “It wasn’t about what Christ was saying, but about the people who followed Him – the ones who for the next 2,000 years would torture and kill each other because they couldn’t agree on what He was saying about peace and love.” Like all the best satires, The Life of Brian remains difficult to classify. It’s an undisciplined film that takes a piss out of everyone, and thus, finds a way to piss everyone off. Aside from a smattering of vocal right-wing trolls, The Book of Clarence is unlikely raise such a fuss. The sophomore feature of musician-turned-filmmaker Jeymes Samuel, the film is a stylishly anachronistic send-up of biblical epics in the vein of The Life of Brian, but the results are far more confusing and uneven.
Clarence (Lakeith Stanfield) is a quick-witted but wayward man attempting to provide for his ailing mother (Marianne Jean-Baptiste). He’s also found himself in debt to a local mobster, Jedediah (Eric Kofi-Abrefa), whose sister (Anna Diop), he’s fallen deeply in love with. It’s clear that Clarence’s heart is the in the right place, but his impulsivity has left him and his best friend, Elijah (RJ Cyler), with a bad reputation. His borderline existential feelings of worthlessness are only compounded by a strained relationship with his twin brother, Thomas (also Stanfield), who abandoned the family to become a disciple of Jesus Christ (Nicholas Pinnock, playing the role completely straight). Clarence comes up with a risky plan: hopelessness is everywhere, so what if he becomes the new messiah? It’s a plan founded on pure cynicism, but the logic is sound: people will practically turn over their pockets to observe comforting illusions that obscure the harsher realities they don’t want to confront. Soon, he’s found himself in dire trouble with the Romans, particularly a smarmy Pontius Pilate (James McAvoy).
The film is stylistically opulent. Samuel’s extensive background in music videos gives him a knack for constructing vibrant tableaus of alternately provocative and humorous imagery. In an early sequence, Clarence and Elijah visit a hookah lounge where users literally float above the ground after smoking from their pipes. The effect is properly euphoric, while also seamlessly blending historical and contemporary sensibilities. Later on, Samuel humorously recreates imagery from Leonardo da Vinci’s “The Last Supper” in the scene of Jesus’s betrayal. Moments like these lend the film a surprising deal of biblical weight, though always executed through an energetic and playful lens. Samuel obviously takes the faith portion of his story seriously.
Religious provocation aside, The Life of Brian speaks to the importance of individualistic thought, as well the conflicting agendas of political groups that could never make progress because they were too busy bickering with one another. By contrast, The Book of Clarence somewhat advocates for blind belief, since Clarence’s journey hinges on selflessly giving himself over to a cause he barely believes in until the last act.
More compelling is the contemporary metaphor at the heart of Samuel’s tale, that of the experience and almost impossible weight of expectations placed upon being a Black man in America. Flaws aside, Clarence is a good man. He cares deeply for his family and community, but too often, others make assumptions about him that he must consistently counteract in order to be taken seriously. “I’m not a man without faults. I played the cards that I was dealt with,” Clarence laments at one point. With the notable exception of the Romans, almost all of the people in Clarence’s ancient Jerusalem are Black, and it’s not difficult to see this as an allegory of a historically repressed community fighting for independence from a prejudiced economic and political system. Clarence becomes a reluctant martyr for a battle he had no choice but to fight, and he discovers that the only way to free himself is to liberate those around him as well. Respectably, The Book of Clarence plays the latter half of its titular character’s story pretty straight and does garner some power from Stanfield’s committed performance. The film’s best satire comes from Benedict Cumberbatch, in a third-act cameo that cleverly riffs on the inaccurate imagery of the Messiah that has persisted for centuries.
The Book of Clarence is an odd and inconsistent project. It can be vividly imaginative and has meaningful use in its representation. Jesus is rarely depicted as Black, despite popular culture often framing him as a blonde-haired hippie. It’s laughably hypocritical that some critics have taken umbrage at this portrayal, which strays no further from historical accuracy or spiritual meaning. Despite its exceptional cast, though, no one is exactly doing their best work. It’s simply too messy and unclear to claim the cult comedy status it seems to be reaching for. The film’s peculiarities will grant it some cult appeal, but it’s hardly the greatest story ever told.
Photo courtesy of TriStar Pictures
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