“The Book of Clarence” is ripped, not from the bible, but from fractured memories of past Hollywood biblical epics.
Cue the chariot races, the filthy beggars shoved aside and cursed for their stink, and the gladiatorial combat on the way to liberating slaves. Beware the stoning of the harlot, the temptations of the flesh and the battle between the locals and the arrogant armored Roman occupiers on horseback. Savor the sweet wine of the last supper, aware that the agony of the crucifixion will follow with salty blood.
Set in 33 A.D., the biblical comedy from British singer-songwriter, music producer and filmmaker The Bullitts (aka Jeymes Samuel) has its heart in the right place and reflects a joy in and appreciation of the familiar genre that’s more popular around Easter than just after the new year. But, for all his enthusiasm, Samuel struggles to maintain the tone and keep the laughs coming.
What begins as a stoner version of Monty Python’s “Life of Brian” takes a few detours into “Spartacus” and “Ben-Hur” blood and sandal territory. It then swerves to become a who-cast-the-first-stone religious saga, ending on the cobbled road to Martin Scorsese’s controversial “The Last Temptation of Christ.”
The trick for the viewer is to go with the flow, throwing “The Passion of the Christ” to the wind. It takes a big leap of faith to follow the feckless main character Clarence (“Atlanta’s” LaKeith Stanfield) until he finally gets some feck.
Stanfield has comic star charisma, which makes it easier to suffer the tonal hiccups. He begins as a cocky weed purveyor sharing blunts with his wingman Elijah (R. J. Cuyler). This sinner’s no mustache-twirling villain but a good guy in a slacker’s body. The dude’s just looking for a shortcut to manhood, hold the prayer and the fasting. Clarence has his virtues: There’s a twinkle in his eye (besides being stoned), he’s a good friend to Elijah and he loves his mother (an endearing Marianne Jean Baptiste, one of many excellent stars dropping in and out of the story).
But Clarence has a few issues. First, there’s his twin brother, Thomas, the uptight, upright 12th apostle (Stanfield again) and the Abel to his Cain. There’s also the ticking clock of shekels owed to the local money-lender Jedediah (Eric Kofi-Abrefa). The crime boss gives the flakey hero a mere 29 days to repay the kingpin for money lost racing that chariot that galumphed through the opening scene. This debt does nothing to help Clarence win over his dream girl (Anna Diop), who also happens to be Jedediah’s sister.
What’s an aimless dope-selling, joint-smoking party boy to do when it seems like he may have less than a month on earth? Clarence picks the worst option: pretending to be the Messiah.
As Clarence struggles between knowledge and belief, getting himself into increasingly impossible situations, we have another series of set pieces. He walks on water. Coins sprout where before there were none. The Romans inevitably go from nasty to nastier. Betrayers emerge, Judas Iscariot (Micheal Ward) chief among them.
Tremendous casting leavens the movie. Omar Sy brings the necessary sobriety to a giant enslaved gladiator rescued by Clarence. James McAvoy makes a mean Pontius Pilate with a playful edge and heavy eyeliner. Alfre Woodard’s Mother Mary has a great riff, trying and failing to explain the immaculate conception to a skeptical Clarence while a confused Joseph looks on, shaking his gray head in agreement.
And as John the Baptist, David Oyelowo gets to dunk Clarence, barely containing his impatience with the player’s playing while maintaining his personal gravity waist deep in water. Teyana Taylor is a sexy, earthy Mary Magdalene, nearly always played as a prostitute despite the historical facts that she was, in fact, a well-born disciple of Jesus. And it’s not easy playing the son of God but Nicholas Pinnock brings a sense of justice, humility and calm to his small supporting role.
With all this talent – and Benedict Cumberbatch, too – the film proves that comedy is harder than drama. There are moments of dancing, or hookah smoking, set to music that suggest the movie is about to get its groove on and soar. The chemistry between Stanfield and Diop sizzles and the mother-son connection seems just as real, contributing to why the audience roots for the star despite his self-delusions and frequent dickishness.
Ultimately, Clarence finds enlightenment just in time to be crucified by the Romans. The guy has no luck.
In the final scenes, blood drizzles down Clarence’s forehead. A soldier’s whip snaps at his back. Now reformed, a day late and a shekel short, the one-time doper drags his wooden burden up the road to Golgotha. He has reconciled with those he loves and that love him in return. They weep on the roadside. He’s finally worthy, but there’s no punch line. We’re trudging up the same impossible slope that so many biblical epics have walked before. It’s still the greatest story ever told, but given the stoner humor at the beginning, it’s a come down. Clarence has found his way while the comedy has lost its laugh.
“The Book of Clarence” premieres on January 12th
