Imagine a movie that dares to reimagine the early life of Jesus Christ as a teenager grappling with temptation and family drama—only to cast Nicolas Cage as his earthly dad and turn the devil into a seductive playmate. It's the kind of premise that could either captivate or infuriate, and in The Carpenter's Son, directed by Lotfy Nathan, it does a bit of both, resulting in a supernatural horror flick that's so wildly misguided it's almost irresistibly entertaining. But here's where it gets controversial: By drawing from the lesser-known Infancy Gospel of Thomas—an ancient, non-canonical text that details Jesus' childhood miracles and mischief outside the official Bible— this film risks sparking cries of heresy from the devout, while simultaneously falling short of delivering the scares expected in a classic demonic showdown. Stick around, because this review dives deep into why this biblical retelling might just become a midnight cult favorite, even if it wasn't designed that way.
First off, for those new to these concepts, the Infancy Gospel of Thomas is one of several apocryphal (meaning 'hidden' or unofficial) writings from early Christianity that aren't part of the standard biblical canon. It portrays a young Jesus performing supernatural feats, like bringing clay birds to life or healing friends, but often with a mischievous or even wrathful edge—think of it as a prequel to the more familiar stories in the Gospels. Nathan, who hails from the Coptic Orthodox Church and brings a genuine faith-based sincerity to his work (as seen in his previous documentary 12 O'Clock Boys), aims to explore the teenage Jesus from a fresh, outsider angle. Set in the year Anno Domini 15—a time when Egypt was under Roman rule—the narrative unfolds in a Roman-era backdrop, where Joseph (Nicolas Cage) and Mary (FKA Twigs) are just trying to keep their 15-year-old son, Jesus (Noah Jupe), safe and out of trouble. And this is the part most people miss: The film paints a surprisingly human portrait of the Holy Family, emphasizing parental protectiveness and the boy's burgeoning identity crisis, all while weaving in horror elements that feel like a nod to classic supernatural tales.
The plot kicks off innocently enough, or at least as innocently as a story about the Son of God can be. Jesus starts spending time with a mysterious girl named 'The Stranger' (played by the captivating Isla Johnston), who has piercing eyes and a penchant for inviting him to 'play games all day.' Subtle red flags pop up early—she's not afraid of scorpions, for instance—and it soon becomes clear she's no ordinary friend. Spoiler alert (though it's telegraphed from the start): She's Satan herself, the ultimate adversary, delivered with lines like 'I am the accuser of light... I am the adversary' that Johnston utters with spine-tingling conviction. As Jesus grows closer to her, defying his father's warnings, tensions escalate. Joseph, ever the exasperated carpenter, laments how his faith feels like 'a broken crutch,' a line only Nicolas Cage could deliver with such over-the-top flair. Meanwhile, the locals grow suspicious, branding the duo as evil spirits—especially after aggressive snakes start slithering out of people's mouths in gruesome horror scenes. Jesus, caught in the middle, wrestles with 'daddy issues,' pleading to know the truth about his real father, adding a layer of psychological depth to the biblical lore.
Visually, the film shines with polished production values that evoke the grandeur of old-school religious epics from the 1950s, almost as if John Carpenter had directed a faith-based thriller. But here's where the controversy really heats up: By casting Cage—a guy whose resume includes wild rides like Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance and Mandy—as Joseph, the film inadvertently injects campy absurdity into a story meant to be solemn. It's not that Cage's performance is bad; it's actually restrained compared to his usual antics, but his mere presence screams 'zany icon' rather than 'humble carpenter.' On the flip side, Twigs and Jupe bring grounded authenticity—Twigs, as Mary, exudes quiet strength, while Jupe (reuniting with Twigs after Honey Boy) portrays Jesus' youthful turmoil with believable vulnerability. The true revelation is Johnston, whose mesmerizing gaze draws us into Satan's allure; with her upcoming lead in Baz Luhrmann's Joan of Arc project, she's poised for major stardom. Yet, despite these strong elements, the movie feels fundamentally flawed—a misconceived mash-up that might offend believers by humanizing sacred figures and trivializing temptation, or disappoint horror fans by prioritizing earnestness over thrills.
In the end, The Carpenter's Son (releasing Friday, November 11, rated R, running 1 hour and 34 minutes, with Souheila Yacoub in a supporting role) is destined for cult status, where future audiences might yell along to Cage's outbursts at late-night screenings. It's a film that tries so hard to be profound but ends up being unintentionally hilarious, raising provocative questions: Is it blasphemous to reimagine biblical events through a horror lens, or could it offer a fresh way to explore faith and doubt? And is the 'so bad it's good' vibe a fair criticism, or does it overlook the director's heartfelt intentions? What do you think—does this kind of storytelling enrich or desecrate religious narratives? Share your thoughts in the comments; I'm curious if you side with the outraged faithful, the midnight cult crowd, or somewhere in between. After all, art like this thrives on debate!
