LaKeith Stanfield’s Shaky Biblical Epic – The Hollywood Reporter

In The Book of Clarence, Jeymes Samuel applies his jocular style — anachronistic music, rapid-fire banter and winking asides — to a Biblical epic that ends up strangely self-conscious when it comes to its comic ambitions. The director’s latest venture whisks audiences off to ancient Jerusalem, where locals grumble about the Romans and circulate news of a Messiah. Rumor has it he calls himself the son of God (something about an Immaculate Conception) and can turn water into wine. He leads a flock of apostles, 12 men devoted to spreading his gospel (they believe all men are born equal). Few people have seen this Jesus, but his existence excites them. 

Clarence (LaKeith Stanfield), a peddler whose cocksure attitude shrouds the softer parts of his heart, doesn’t buy it. The claims made on behalf of Jesus are strong. (Walking on water? Really?) God doesn’t exist and you can’t raise the dead, he insists. People need to get a grip, he reminds his business partner and best friend Elijah (a reliably funny RJ Cyler), and have faith in what they know. 

Here’s what Clarence knows: the informal divisions of Jerusalem’s winding cobblestone streets and sandy alleys; his mother needs a new, preferably palatial, home; he’s in love with Varinia (Anna Diop), the sister of his lender Jedediah the Terrible (Eric Kofi-Abrefa); and if he doesn’t repay his loan in 30 days, Jedediah will kill him. 

The Book of Clarence opens with a chariot race and a failed plan. Clarence competes with Mary Magdalene (Teyana Taylor) in hopes of winning back his money and restoring his honor. Their relay outlines the contours of city life: The camera (cinematography by Rob Hardy) lurches around the hawkers cursing the carts for interrupting their sales and swerves the beggars edging their bodies closer to the walls of sun-bleached buildings to avoid collision. The music (score by Samuel and music supervision by Peter Afterman) thumps in the background, giving this divine milieu a hip-hop swag. It’s the kind of bold introduction we expect from Samuel, whose previous film, The Harder They Fall, began with similar gusto. 

Samuel models Jerusalem after his childhood community in the estate houses of Harrow Road in London. The streets of this holy city (the film was shot in and around Matera, Italy) bustle with action and teem with intergenerational families. While it might seem treacherous to outsiders, insiders understand the loyal network on which the community was founded. The people of Jerusalem are just trying to survive under the oppressive rule of Pontious Pilate (James McAvoy). Sure, an occasional feud might tip into violent territory — debts must be collected, the dead avenged — but the real enemy is empire. Marks of the Roman governor’s rule are seen early in the film as soldiers patrol the streets and intimidate locals by harassing them for identification papers. Samuel is less interested in detailing the politics of this period than in showing its impact on civilian life. An understanding of Rome comes from whispers throughout town and military orders.

Clarence loses the race to Mary after he runs into his nemesis (Chase Dillon), a perpetually suspicious local gang leader. He narrows his eyes as he commands his band of teens to pelt Clarence and Elijah (also in the cart) with darts. Their confrontation is a frenetic scene of bodies dodging flying objects, the chariot breaking and the horses escaping. Samuel is good with action; there’s a balletic quality to these scenes.

With his stallions missing and the cart in shambles, Clarence needs to figure out a way to recoup the money he blew on this relay and pay his debt. After a couple of detours — begging for his life at Jedediah’s harem, asking his mother (Marianne Jean-Baptiste) for advice and reminding Varinia of his love — Clarence decides to become an apostle. He figures if Jedediah — a God-fearing racketeer — finds out his debtor is Christian, he might spare him. 

A visit to Jesus’ meeting house shatters any illusions about this plan. There, Clarence runs into his twin brother, the apostle Thomas (also played by Stanfield), who rejects his plea to join the fraternal squad. It’s Stanfield against himself in these scenes, and its a sign of the actor’s skill that he’s able to play brothers with distinctive personalities. As with many siblings, misunderstandings have congealed into bad blood. Clarence resents his brother for abandoning their family to follow, in his eyes, a hack. Samuel’s screenplay offers up a few different emotional threads — from Clarence’s feud with Thomas to our protagonist’s simmering love for Varinia — but I wonder if the writer-director’s energy might have been better spent fleshing out this fractious fraternal bond.

Judas (a striking Michael Ward) offers our desperate peddler a chance: If Clarence frees some slaves, the apostles will consider his membership. While trying to complete this task, Clarence realizes that becoming a Messiah would be a more lucrative path. Chronicling the adventures of this charlatan energizes The Book of Clarence, which is hobbled by its tonal inconsistencies. Clarence teams up with Elijah, his friend Dirty Zeke (Caleb McLaughlin) and the gladiator Barabbas (Omar Sy) to spread their word across the region. During their travels, they offer an alternative to Jesus, ideas based on pseudo-Enlightenment principles. “Knowledge is stronger than belief,” goes Clarence’s mantra. Stanfield slips naturally into his role as a cult leader in training, working his charm on his constituents and the movie-watching audience.

Samuel, who grew up in a household of faith, pokes fun at the pageantry of religion and the capriciousness of disciples with the precision of an intimate. It only takes a few staged miracles for Jerusalemites to empty their pockets. The director also uses his false prophet’s skepticism to shape this Biblical epic into a more funky genre offering. Whereas Ben-Hur or The Passion of the Christ treated Jesus’ time with a kind of pious sobriety, The Book of Clarence leans into humor. The funniest bits — like one with a scene-stealing Alfre Woodard as the Virgin Mary — wink at the ridiculousness of some Biblical lore while honoring the reverence it inspires. The film’s first-rate cast helps relax our posture too. Samuel gives all his performers, from David Oyelowo’s John the Baptist to McAvoy’s Pontious, a chance to get in on good jokes. 

So it’s disappointing when The Book of Clarence stops short of a full embrace of farce. Hints of self-seriousness present at the beginning of the film intensify. As Clarence starts to believe his own charade, the filmmaker tries to shape lessons out of the madness. The more impassioned moments land oddly, exacerbating the tonal incoherence, and the performances stiffen as the actors are made to solemnly repeat forcefully weighted phrases like “hold space.” It’s an unnecessary turn for The Book of Clarence, which comes boasting an entertaining premise and confident direction. Sure, it feels good for the trickster to learn a lesson, but it’s funnier and more damning when he doesn’t.