Historical Drama ‘A Great Awakening’ A Film That Might Put You To Sleep
(REVIEW) Typically, I see movies I review at a critic’s screening, but this time I watched “A Great Awakening” with a general audience. There were only a few people there. But the most memorable person was in the back — he was snoring the whole time, almost as loud as the dialogue in the movie.
I found that really funny because the film makes a point over and over again that one of the hallmarks of “stuffy old religion” was that preachers put their congregations to sleep. But George Whitfield was different.
We are told he had a fiery and inspiring power over those who heard him. I wish this movie had more of that power within itself.
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Made by Sight & Sound Films and Roadside Attractions, “A Great Awakening” follows the friendship and parallel lives of American Founding Father Benjamin Franklin and preacher George Whitfield.
Before the American Revolution, the Rev. Whitefield sparked the first Great Awakening, uniting an entire generation with his thundering proclamation of liberty in Christ and gaining the begrudging respect and friendship of the deeply secular Franklin. Years later, after the war with the nation’s freedom hanging in the balance, Franklin has to learn from his friend how to save the country from destroying itself.
This year has plenty of faith-based films about the birth of America, whether that’s “A Great Awakening,” author Joseph Loconte’s four-part documentary on Benjamin Rush, and Angel Studio’s “Young Washington.” And no wonder: It is the 250th anniversary of America. And with political liberals emptying out of America’s churches, Christian politics are becoming more comfortably conservative. Hence, it’s not surprising that films that express that demographic’s desire to restore America, and making faith an important part of that, are being reflected in their movies.
“A Great Awakening” leans heavily into this spirit. The film opens with America’s Constitutional Convention and a country on the brink of collapse, and posits God as the solution. (One character says they used to open congress sessions in prayer, but that was a long time ago). And the film ends with Whitfield staring at the camera, preaching a message of repentance to the audience.
There’s a good story here, and every once in a while it comes out. The friendship between Franklin and Whitfield is an easy allegory between two sides of America – one being the entrepreneurial, scientific, secular, rationally self-interested side and the other the passionate religious, activist, radical side.
America has always been made up of both. Both have had to find a way to partner together on the project of America. Franklin needs Whitfield to create a passionate, emotional, moral consensus for the American project. Whitfield needs Franklin’s political and business ability to spread his message and actually put the American project together.
The scenes with the two of them together shine the brightest and come close to this film’s potential. Whitfield’s extreme earnestness bounces off of Franklin’s friendly, glib sarcasm. Whitfield’s evangelical commitment to bringing people to Christ and to recognizing their need for him clashes with Franklin’s commitment to personal achievement.
Two scenes in particular showcase the power of this relationship. The first is when Franklin meets Whitfield for the first time and hears him preach. When Whitfield’s sermon finishes, Franklin walks back into his print shop, somewhat in a daze, and looks at the crowd around him, weeping and repenting. The camera follows Franklin through the crowd in one continuous take. We see Franklin’s recognition both of the opportunity Whitfield represents for him as a businessman, but also Franklin’s alienation from the crowd, so easily overcome while Franklin stands apart, as he sees it, rationally and logically.
The second – and probably best – scene is when Franklin and Whitfield have a big fight that turns out to be their final meeting. It’s here that Whitfield and Franklin abandon their playful needling and condemn each other’s hypocracies and failings. Whitfield rebukes Franklin for building a life on self-reliance rather than Christ. Franklin, for his part, rebukes Whitfield for relying on prayers to God rather than the developing virtuous character through daily practice like Franklin has – virtues that do more good – through charity and other works – than any Christian Franklin has ever known in his life.
One of the most powerful moments comes when Franklin calls out Whitfield for saying God saved the orphanage he built, when in reality, it was using slave labor that kept it going. All Whitfield can do is tell Franklin not to look to Whitfield, or any man’s virtue, but look to Christ. Whitfield then, clearly dying, walks out to preach as if he’s walking into heaven while Franklin stays behind.
The framing of Franklin and Whitfield’s relationship against the backdrop of the Constitutional Convention also works well. We see the effects of Whitfield’s life on Franklin, and we see him give his now-famous rousing speech to the Continental Congress that they need to pray for the convention and rely on God, admitting that even he, Franklin, can’t keep the public together on his own. The country and its leaders need to publicly place themselves under God — rather than simply their own efforts — to save it.
The message of the film — one I agree mostly with — is clear. America needs both Franklin’s entrepreneurial spirit and Whitfield’s religious zealotry. The only way, according to the film, to restore the country is to restore that partnership that has devolved into enemies. Attempts to deny or expunge religion and faith from public life and debate do not make us more rational and reasonable, but only more divided and fractional.
The film also gestures at another unique feature of America. Figures like Whitfield are probably partly responsible for America being so much more religious than other Western countries. Like places in Europe, America’s respectable mainline congregations are emptying.
But America is much more religious than other wealthy nations. A huge part of that is America’s evangelical spirit of preachers and Christian influencers who work outside systems that grow old and stale to inspire the fervor of the common religious folk. The faith-based film industry, which launched itself to represent the faith of Evangelicals in America who didn’t feel represented by Hollywood, is itself a good example.
However, the good moments in this film are too few and far between to live up to its good moments, structure, and themes. Most of the film involves less dialogue between characters and more characters trading sermons. And the sermons are far less compelling than we are told these men are capable of. In fact, it’s fairly easy to tell which dialogue was written by Whitfield and Franklin and which was written by the screenwriters, because the former is lightyears better.
The film constantly tells us how moving and inspiringWhitfield and his message are, while the actual moments portrayed lack inspiration. This is easily one of the film’s most consistent weaknesses. When Whitfield delivers a sermon, preaches to the crowd, serves the prisoners, or whoever else, everyone immediately falls at his feet and repents. The music swells, the camera follows Whitfield and the weeping congregation, and we know we are supposed to feel the power of the moment. But it’s also conventional, so unremarkable, that the moment feels false. It lacks the setup and artistry that “The Testament of Ann Lee” (for all its flaws) had for its charismatic religious movement and leaders.
The rosy sheen over everything adds to the feeling of emotional manipulation. I’m not enough of a historian to fact-check everything in the movie’s portrayal of how faith and American history, or Whitfield and Franklin, intersect. But the film gives a strong impression of bending things to fit its agenda.
The film thankfully acknowledges Franklin’s infidelities, but underplays them. Regardless, the constant sentimental sheen of the whole film, from the music to the camera shots to the constant haigographic dialogue, makes the film feel dishonest.
This is a consistent weakness in faith-based films. They wish to participate in that tradition of the preacher like George Whitfield, who stirs the crowd up emotionally to be on fire for Christ, but they neglect two things: The purpose of art and film (it’s not clear that art is the right place to preach) and the skill it requires to spiritually and emotionally move an audience.
After all, Whitfield spent significant effort learning his craft; as the film notes, he went to Oxford for training. Faith-based filmmakers want the fruit – an emotional, religious revival – without the understanding or skill it requires to make compelling art.
“A Great Awakening” has plenty to explore – and even endorse – about the place of faith in American history and its future. If it had only had a few more of the virtues they endorse in their subjects, the film might have succeeded.
“A Great Awakening” is playing now in theaters.
Joseph Holmes is an award-nominated filmmaker and culture critic living in New York. He is co-host of the podcast “The Overthinkers” and its companion website theoverthinkersjournal.world, where he discusses art, culture and faith with his fellow overthinkers. His other work and contact info can be found at josephholmesstudios.com.