Why I Won't Make Another Christian Film

A scene from Nathan Clarkson’s film “Confessions of a Prodigal Son”, 2015.

Religion Unplugged believes in a diversity of well-reasoned and well-researched opinions. This piece reflects the views of the author and does not necessarily represent those of Religion Unplugged, its staff and contributors.

(OPINION) Seven years ago, I released my first “faith-based” film. It had a TV star in it, sold hundreds of thousands of copies and ended up trending on Netflix. As a result of its success, I made another film a couple of years later, and just recently, I released my third faith-based movie. Each of the three movies I’ve written, produced, directed and acted in over the last seven years have been strongly faith-based; they were modern interpretations of Bible stories, portrayed prayer and preaching, and Christian morality was front and center.

But it wasn’t just what they had in them that marked them as “Christian” films. It was also what they didn’t have in them. None of the films I made had cursing, they didn’t have sex scenes, and of course, they didn’t have endings where everything wasn’t tied up nicely with a happy ending bow— they didn’t have these things not because I didn’t want to put them in my movies, or thought I could tell a better story without them, but instead because I knew if I did include mature content or unanswered questions in my films, they wouldn’t sell. And for that reason, I have made my last “Christian” film.

Let Me Be Honest

Now before you get out the stones and label me a “heretic” pulled away from the faith by the siren call of "secular culture," hear me out. I am still a man of deep faith; which is actually the reason I am choosing to not create Christian films anymore. I love each of the films I’ve made and am proud of where they’ve gone and the way they've connected with a multitude of people.

But, as I go back and watch over the films I’ve created, I also think over the real and personal life events I’ve both experienced in my own life and witnessed in the ones around me. I think over the struggle, pain, despair, doubt, heartbreak and angst I’ve endured (all of which have served to deepen my faith), and then I think how rarely those things were ever explored in depth in my films — and when they were, they were done at a safe distance or a comfortable separation. It seems there has been a stark contrast between the reality I exist in and the one I created in my films.

When writing my films, I felt this need to wrap everything up nicely, even when most situations in my life had not. I felt the pressure to give all the answers, when so often the questions in my world had none. I felt the pull to censor my characters’ language and actions, when my own experience and behavior has very often been anything but family-friendly. In looking at this disconnect, I began to realize I, and many other well-intentioned Christian filmmakers, weren’t being entirely honest about ourselves (humanity), the world or even God in the stories we told. And if I know anything about God, he really likes honesty.

Life Is Not Family-Friendly

Somewhere along the way between Michelangelo’s masterpiece inside the Sistine Chapel and Pureflix’s film “God’s Not Dead,” Christian art has become synonymous with “family-friendly.” This is a good thing, right? Well, it’s complicated. Family-friendly is a fine genre and has a place, but if all Christian art must be family-friendly how will it ever connect with lives that are not? And what’s more, if a film being family-friendly is the only requirement for its success, why does it need to be good? I remember listening to the Christian Music Channel as a kid, which touted itself as “safe for the whole family,” being surprised at how boring and uninspired most of the music was, especially compared to the American Pie CD album I had, filled with unique and beautifully written songs about life and love. But at least they didn’t curse, right?

In the last 50 years, Christians created a buying market in response to the “morally bankrupt” entertainment of secular culture and depraved Hollywood. But in exchange for comfort, safety and art that reaffirmed (and didn’t challenge) our deeply held beliefs, we gave away excellence, honesty and depth in our books, movies and films — all the things that make art truly beautiful and effective.

Enter: me, a young kid with a dream in his heart to tell beautiful and true stories that would touch the hearts of those who watched, but quickly realizing the strict boundaries fencing in the subjects I could and could not explore, the content I could and could not show, and the questions I could and could not ask. I wrote as honestly as I could with the ever-watching eye of a temperamental Christian market looking over my shoulder, but every time my stories drifted at all from the accepted form, I was quickly reined in by the threat of not making money from my art.

The first film I ever created and released was a modern retelling of The Prodigal Son. When I sold the movie to a mainstream distributor, I was told I needed to edit out the one use of the word “damn,” or it would not sell to Christian audiences. After it was released, a popular Christian reviewer cited the film for nudity, describing the tawdry scene in explicit detail: “girl in shorts.”

But more than just content, the Christian audience is concerned with having their worldview and values validated, not questioned. I have numerous stories from both my own experience and others who have faced criticism because their films didn’t have enough praying, church or sometimes even political lean.

I quickly learned the quality, realism or trueness of my stories or film didn’t matter— only that it lived up to the moral code and messaging of its audience. This bothered me— I wanted to explore the real moments of life in my films even if they were messy, but I couldn’t. I wanted to tell the stories that would actually connect to the people living in a broken world, but I wasn’t allowed. 

Selling God

There’s also another factor at play here when it comes to Christian films and art-- in large part, feeling inauthentic and unrelatable. In past decades, in an effort to win the secular masses to our side, we have begun to treat faith as a product; and it’s here we begin to attempt to sell God. Like any good ad for a product, we attempt to hide all the difficult realities of our faith and promise quick fixes and easy answers. We use “Christian films” as commercials for God, ensuring to minimize any difficulties with the product, and make sure that at the end of our movies, everything gets fixed (typically after the sinner’s prayer is said) to convince potential customers (converts) to invest their lives and money. 

The only problem is: the tactic isn’t working. Instead of Christian movies causing revival, they have ended up, at best, preaching to the choir -- and at worst, presenting a false gospel that people quickly discover doesn’t hold water if tested, ultimately giving people of faith the reputation of being either naive or dishonest. God doesn’t need salesmen, he needs truth-tellers and beauty makers. 

Persecution Complex

I’m still surprised at how shocked Christians are when the rest of the world doesn’t applaud their artistic efforts, when very often, so little actual artistry goes into creating them. Christian artists often dismiss the critics and cry persecution when their latest movie gets less than rosy reviews -- and unfortunately, this allows them to dismiss valid criticism that could help them grow, instead of taking a good, hard look at their work.

I’ve heard many times throughout my career in the very niche community of Christian filmmakers something along the lines of, “They just hate it because it has good Christian values,” when usually, after seeing their film, I just hate it because it’s not very good, curse words or not. It’s easier to dismiss criticism as persecution, taking on a victimhood complex, than it is to actually step out of our comfort zone and do the work to make something better.

However, the blame for bad Christian art doesn’t lie completely with the creators, but in large part, the audience. We as Christians movie-goers don’t demand good art, so ultimately, there is no impetus to create it. Until we, as people of faith, say that we want art that more accurately reflects the beauty of a perfect God with high standards, more realistically shows the human condition, and more effectively shows the world in an honest and connective way, then we will be sentenced to clean, family-friendly, badly-made art.

What Now?

I remember when I was in acting school at The New York Film Academy, my acting teacher told us that the most powerful performances are the most honest ones. Essentially, if you wanted to connect with your audience in a deep and meaningful way, it would only happen in performances that most accurately reflected the reality of the human condition -- and that takes messy, raw, real honesty to bring to life. So, for better or worse, I’ve realized that if I want my films to be films of depth and meaning, I can't continue to make “faith-based” films; I must instead seek to reflect reality, in all its messiness, uncertainty and beauty, even when it passes the lines of a particular buying market.

My films will always include faith — to write or create anything that didn’t would be disingenuous and dishonest, as my faith is the most integral part of my life, and will affect everything I do, say and create. And leaving the world of faith-based films doesn’t mean that I’m looking for an excuse to make depraved, morally bankrupt movies — instead, just more honest ones.

I still find it ironic how fearful Christians can be of un-family-friendly content in their entertainment, when the Bible they hold at church contains more sex, violence and graphic scenes than Game of Thrones ever did. I do understand the fear of normalizing destructive things, but I believe there is a way for our art to explore the brokenness of the world while still portraying redemptive truth. But until we are brave enough to venture into the dark with our art, we will never actually bring the light to the ones who need it most.

My hope is as I venture into new territory that you might venture with me. That we might embark together on that grand adventure of discovering a more beautiful and honest way to create. Perhaps this kind of work won’t reach the masses, but for those it does, I pray and hope it has a deeper impact on their hearts and mind than what the status quo has given us thus far.

To make beautiful and meaningful films as people of faith, we must be honest enough to show the world as it really is, courageous enough to explore stories outside our comfort zone and dedicated enough to create aesthetically beautiful art that reflects a beautiful God. This is something I deeply desire to do. I don’t know what it will look like, but I’m determined to find out. So for these reasons, I have made my last “Christian film.”

Nathan Clarkson is an actor who has appeared in numerous popular TV shows and films, a best-selling author of books Different and Good Man, and an award winning indie filmmaker whose films have been seen trending on Netflix. Nathan has been quoted, interviewed, and featured in outlets like The LA Times, Variety, and Publisher's Weekly. Nathan co-hosts the podcast The Overthinkers: A place for the creative intellectual. Nathan’s newest film project Don’t Know Jack is currently in production. Nathan lives between Los Angeles and New York City.