The story of Mary is many things – an origin story, a Jesus prequel, ground zero for the New Testament Cinematic Universe – but Mary (now on Netflix) renders it more of an action movie than most cinematic interpretations of “the greatest story ever told.” That might be precisely what we expect from a movie directed by D.J. Caruso, best known for Two for the Money, Taking Lives, Disturbia and other mid-tier, star-driven almost-blockbusters. But Caruso’s career has been pointing in a post-Hollywood direction recently; he followed up 2017’s XXX: The Return of Xander Cage with a faith-based film, Redeeming Love, and DailyWire exclusive Shut In. The filmmaker made Mary a passion project of sorts, rooted in his Catholic faith, and even though he juices the story with a bit of un-Christmasy violent conflict, it’s not like he transformed Mary into Furiosa or Beatrix Kiddo. Although that might’ve been more interesting than this dutiful and somber take.
The Gist: “You may think you know my story,” Mary (Noa Cohen) narrates. “Trust me, you don’t.” A lot of us might beg to differ, ma’am, but please, go ahead. We’re paying attention! And so we begin in a pre-Mary era, when her mother Anne (Hilla Vidor) and father Joachim (Ori Pfeffer) are desperate for a child. Joachim even fasts and treks through the desert and falls face-first and exhausted into a dune like many desperate desert-trekkers in movies before him. He pleads and prays to the void. And this is when the angel Gabriel (Dudley O’Shaughnessey) appears in front of his very eyes, while back in Nazareth, Anne sits and a candle lights itself. Cut to: Nine months later, when Anne moans and screams like every woman giving birth in many movies before her. What happened? Is this another virgin birth or did the almighty just give them a divine version of IVF? Not sure. But Mary emerges into the world, already bearing her destiny.
Next we meet King Herod (Anthony Hopkins!), who declares himself “king of all the Jews” even though he isn’t Jewish, and then knifes his wife until she’s dead. Not a nice guy, and we haven’t gotten to the kill-all-the-firstborn-sons stuff yet. Years go by. Mary has grown from a girl cavorting with butterflies to a young woman whose destiny prompts her parents to leave her in the care of Anna the Prophetess (Susan Brown) at the temple. She prays and feeds the poor and does the washing, stuff like that. One gentleman in the street tempts her and she resists, which is a good thing, since it’s Satan (Eamon Farren), and you can tell him and his fellow demons from the rest of the folk by Hell’s apparent lack of emphasis on oral hygiene. She then catches the eye of local construction worker Joseph (Ido Tako), who proposes, and she accepts. I take that back – Joseph proposes to Joachim, and he accepts on Mary’s behalf, because that’s how shit worked back then.
Meanwhile, Herod forcibly declares the temple to be his property, because he’s a madman who sees himself as a god walking the earth. Mary is visited by Gabriel, who says she’s gonna carry the son of God, and just like that, she’s pregnant. Scandal ensues. Joachim rejects her, then about-faces in a show of support. Joseph goes through a similar internal conflict, prompting an awkward conversation with his betrothed, who says things like “I can explain!” and “I know this sounds crazy, but…”. Joseph comes around, eventually rescuing her from an angry Satan-led mob that wants to stone her to death, then vowing to love and protect her child. Sweet guy! They marry happily. Herod catches word that the true king of all Jews is in utero, prompting Mary and Joseph to flee to Bethlehem and… I think you know the rest, but hey, I’m not gonna make any assumptions here.
What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: About a year ago some of us saw Journey to Bethlehem, which turned this saga into a semi-bonkers musical comedy. And The Nativity Story was a more straightforward take, and therefore not particularly memorable.
Performance Worth Watching: Hopkins can win an Oscar playing a mad emperor while absent-mindedly scrolling his Insta feed, which is to say, he lives up to his rep and gives the movie the diabolical villain-juice it needs.
Memorable Dialogue: The first Jesus-Mary-and-Joseph scene:
Joseph: What’s his name?
Mary: Jesus. His name’s Jesus.
Joseph: Hello, Jesus.
Sex and Skin: Not that kind of movie, fam.
Our Take: It’s 2024, and biblical epics are just… difficult. They’ve been done before many many times, with The Greatest Story Ever Told taking this story to its cinematic apex, although other filmmakers keep insisting on tackling it, perhaps foolishly. So we end up with creative variations like the goofy Journey to Bethlehem, or Mary, which Caruso injects with a more propulsive sensibility. Read: It’s more violent, with Herod ordering the torture of a temple priest and Joseph taking up a sword to fend off Roman Centurions. It’s not exactly Gladiator, mind you, but it makes the threat of violence a reality, stopping just short of depicting the slaying of infants. Whether the insertion of relatively brief, and never excessive action sequences offends or not depends on whether you take the Gospels as gospel. Ned Flanders would not be pleased.
In a vacuum, though, Mary is highly watchable, with agreeable pacing and an earnest tone funneled through a committed cast. Likely fearing a stumble into the deep end of Lake Blasphemy, Caruso errs on the side of humorlessness, which pushes proceedings into the realm of overbaked melodrama. If that sounds like criticism, well, it is, but stiff-and-awkward is how Year Zero religious period pieces tend to go, so it feels appropriate, and newcomer Cohen showing effortless sincerity while navigating some clunky dialogue, and ably bearing the weight of the drama. If I sound unenthused, it’s because I am – the film is at best moderately engaging, and somewhat inadvertently courts indifference. Caruso’s slick Hollywoodish aesthetic and creative extrapolation of Mary’s origin might be just enough to freshen up this well-trod story, although when the sandal hits the sand, I feel like most of us could take it or leave it.
Our Call: It’s tempting to give Mary modest props for trying something a little different, but you’re better off rewatching The Greatest Story Ever Told instead. SKIP IT.
John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan.