Netflix’s “Mary” is a survival thriller without much gospel truth

Over a decade ago, prominent megachurch pastor Joel Osteen was determined to make a film: “Mary, Mother of Christ.”

Years passed, writers wrote, casts were announced and returned, publicists advertised, but by 2015 it was clear that nothing was going to happen and finally the film’s IMDB page reached the full 404.

Good news: It’s 2024 and Osteen finally has his movie Mary, streaming on Netflix starting December 6th, directed by DJ Caruso, written by Timothy Michael Hayes and executive produced by, yes, Joel Osteen.

The film’s marketing materials tell us:

“…Mary is shunned and forced to hide after a miraculous conception. When King Herod orders a murderous hunt for their newborn baby, Mary and Joseph go on the run, bound by faith and driven by courage, to save his life at all costs.”

Or as another of the film’s producers describes it: “a survival thriller.”

Imaginative retellings of Scripture are nothing new in Dear and Glorious Physician. to “Jesus of Nazareth” to “The Chosen One.” In fact, any painting of a nativity scene or crucifixion requires the use of the imagination.

The discerning reader or viewer will ask two related questions about these works: What is the intention of the imaginative aspects? And How do these aspects relate to the accepted source material?

With “Mary,” the team’s stated intention, both in interviews and in the script itself, is to “tell the story” of Mary. As her voiceover says in the opening scene, “…you might think you know my story…trust me…you don’t.”

Well, apparently not, especially when Mary’s story is a highly selective mix of the Gospels, the non-canonical “Proto-Gospel of James,” this survival thriller, and a sermon by Joel Osteen.

For example, while many were offended by Martin Scorsese’s 1988 novel and film “The Last Temptation of ChristIt cannot be judged on the basis of “inaccuracy” because it was not about fidelity to the gospel account. On the other hand, perhaps the most moving moment in “The Passion of the Christ,” a film about faithfulness in both letter and spirit, was the fruit of fantasy: Mary’s memory of her infant son’s fall when she saw him under the water saw the weight of the cross stumbling.

The non-canonical “Protoevangelium of James”, valued in the early church and a source for various beliefs about Mary, but declared apocryphal in the 6th centuryTh Century, is used, but selectively. “James” tells the story of Mary’s miraculous origin as the daughter of Joachim and Anna – perhaps the film’s most moving element – ​​and her time in the temple.

That’s it for “James,” However, since less attractive elements of this text are postponed and omitted, such as the part where the temple authorities decide due to the onset of menarche, it is time to find Mary a husband.

The text is about an elderly widower named Joseph. “Mary” is about a handsome young builder who is immediately smitten when he spots Mary doing laundry in a river. He is encouraged by the Angel in Blue, aka Gabriel, to go to her father’s house – the journey from Jerusalem to Nazareth takes just what seems like a hot minute – to ask for her hand in marriage.

What else? Oh, a few things: The Annunciation takes place in the Temple, not in Nazareth. Joachim is murdered by Herod’s troops. In Bethlehem, Joseph is told by an innkeeper that Bethlehem is overcrowded because “in Bethlehem a child will be born…the Messiah.”

This child is born. Herod immediately hears the news from a shepherd and then immediately orders the massacre of all the children of Bethlehem – although we then see a scene in which a few hundred people have gathered around the family, including the Magi, presenting gifts . Not exactly difficult to find, one would think.

That’s all interesting and yes, completely out of whack with biblical chronology. But it is this last part of the film that is, as we now say, definitive a choice.

The family travels to Egypt. They stop at a house. Herod’s henchmen attack. Mary throws Jesus in a basket down to Joseph and then jumps down, his robes fluttering in the air. She jumps on a horse with the baby. Joseph defends them, throwing the net and leaving the man burning. Pause, rewind, watch again: Joseph kills a man.

Truly a survival thriller!

The family moves on – not to Egypt, but to Jerusalem. Okay, but why? Herod is still on the hunt, brandishing a sword and seething about the Messiah in a large hall surrounded by baskets full of babies. Mary and Joseph approach the gates of Jerusalem. Super dangerous for sure, but Mary is determined and confident. “We are blessed,” she assures us and marches to the temple, where the prophetess Anna is waiting for her. Love will save the world.

Sure, it will, but wait, what? Aside from Avenger Joseph, that’s all incorrect. The Gospels tell us that the presentation of Jesus took place 40 days after his birth and coincided with the ritual purification of Mary. And yes, Mary and Joseph did make it to Egypt, but that trip, along with Herod’s massacre and even the visit of the Magi, took place when he was still a toddler.

Does it really matter?

Yes, that is the case, especially when you present your work, no matter how well-intentioned, as the “story” the rest of us have never known before.

All of this – especially the last part – not only represents violence against the sources that are available to us and that the authors say they used, but it also creates an image of Maria that is, to say the least, contradictory their actual role in Christian history.

By focusing on Mary’s personal courage and tenacity and concentrating the story on the arc of Herod’s terror and wrath, the film distances Mary from the deeper, more fundamental story of God’s people and salvation history. We know a lot about Herod’s megalomania, but hear little about Israel’s suffering. Love will save the world, but from what? The brokenness of sin that has destroyed all of creation, or mean people?

No, Mary doesn’t necessarily force herself to be the girl boss in this survival thriller, because she actually relies on God. But the nature of her trust is succinctly expressed in her reaction to Gabriel’s message.

“Let it be me.”

What a difference a word makes. No fiat, A let it be rooted in the actual spirituality and practice of their historical beliefs, but a Me At its heart is a vague trust in a vague self-empowering promise, a spiritually selective, self-referential framework that, if you return to the beginning of this piece and this project, may seem familiar.