Review
Creed
Film & TV
Friendship
4 min read

Testament soulfully re-tells the acts that changed the world

What happened after The Chosen?

Giles Gough is a writer and creative who hosts the God in Film podcast.

A man stands the landing of an external staircase and stares out.
Angel Studios.

Testament reimagines the story of how Jesus’ disciples spread the good news of him to the world by transplanting it to an alternate-modern era. Swapping Jerusalem for London. As the followers risk everything to preach the good news, the Temple races to silence them before the oppressive Imperium retaliates. But public miracles and divided loyalties force both sides to confront the true cost of their choices. In the first episode it asks the question, what would it be like if the Son of God had come down from heaven, come to your very hometown, and you’d missed him? 

Most re-tellings of the early church usually end the story either with Jesus’ resurrection, or his ascension into heaven. Testament starts the action just after Pentecost, fifty days after Jesus’ death and resurrection. In Christianity, Pentecost is the day when the Holy Spirit descended on the Apostles like “a violent wind” and gave them not just the ability to be understood in any language, but also the courage and conviction to go out and tell people about Jesus. We see much of the action through the character of Stephen, a young man who decides to follow Jesus after hearing the Apostles preach. Consequently, Stephen’s mother accuses him of heresy and throws him onto the street, making him fully dependent on this early Jesus movement.  

In the first episode, the storytellers seem to have presented themselves with a bit of a challenge, by starting the action at Pentecost. Not only does it seem like the most interesting events have just happened off camera, but we’re also meeting these characters in a moment of spiritual awakening and holy joy, which is notoriously hard to depict on screen. Especially with characters we’ve just met. Nonetheless, as they navigate the logistics of having so many converts all at once (the kind of happy problem any church minister would like to have) we see that the Apostles have a familiar, lived-in quality to their inter-personal dynamics. You can easily believe that these very different men have spent every day living and working with each other for the last three years until they’ve sanded off the rough edges of their relationships.  

Whilst the show doesn’t always hold together at first, it builds momentum by tackling some of the more difficult parts of the book of Acts with sensitivity and nuance. It’s helped by the performances being incredibly watchable. The colour-blind casting is a delight, and perhaps reflective of Christianity being the most ethnically diverse religion on the planet. Tom Simper, who plays Peter, has an incredibly expressive face and a compassionate manner. Kenneth Omole who plays John can be vulnerable as he returns to the garden of Gethsemane to mourn the absence of his friend and saviour. Yet the next scene, where he is confronted by a Temple priest, he emanates a quiet authority. You can’t take your eyes off him.

If nothing else, this show gives Saul a compelling backstory and a terrifying characterisation.

Making Stephen the point of view character is a bold narrative choice. Anyone with a passing knowledge of the New Testament might feel anxious for the character, and having him be played by such a young actor as Charles Beaven underscores the upcoming tragedy. Mogali Masuku plays Mary as a woman with her head thoroughly screwed on. Her storyline shows Mary ministering to addicts and victims of human trafficking, looking gangsters dead in the eye and telling them these lost souls belong to Jesus now. On the other side of the divide is Saul. Eben Figueiredo plays him with the type of zeal that allows people to do both wonderous and terrible things. If nothing else, this show gives Saul a compelling backstory and a terrifying characterisation. It’s Saul, not the Temple establishment, who is the main antagonist of this season.  

If there is one clear misstep, perhaps it’s the depiction of what the show calls ‘The Sentinels’, the foot soldiers of the ‘Imperium’, a stand-in for the Roman Empire. Rather than being dressed in modern military fatigues, they are clad head to toe in a red, faceless body armour. The type that would be more at home in the Star Wars universe. They’re possibly dressed like this to represent the empire’s overwhelming and sinister military power, but as we see repeatedly through world events, human cruelty looks painfully normal. 

The timing of this show seems noteworthy as well. This show drops roughly a year after Angel Studios, the producers of Testament, were forced to split from the creators of The Chosen. Following the lives of the Apostles as they begin to follow Jesus, The Chosen became a monster hit and the flagship show of Angel Studios’ catalogue. So a show following the lives of the Apostles after Jesus leaves them (albeit transplanted to a different time), might be an attempt by Angel Studios to recapture some of the popularity they have lost.  

Testament definitely has a faltering start, but it has all the ingredients to be compelling TV. If you can stick with this show as it finds its feet, you will be treated to a soulful depiction of an oft-overlooked part of the Jesus story. 

Watch the trailer

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Column
Culture
Digital
Film & TV
Justice
4 min read

Data scientists should stop watching Minority Report and start watching The Shawshank Redemption

A justice ministry’s prejudicial database leaves no room for redemption.

George is a visiting fellow at the London School of Economics and an Anglican priest.

Tom Cruise gestures with his fingers in an e-glove in front of his face
Tom Cruise takes the measure.
20th Century Fox.

The go-to for any news item about using AI to predict crimes before they happen is Steven Spielberg’s Minority Report from 2002, starring Tom Cruise as a futuristic cop, who employs human “precogs” as clairvoyants to get ahead of the villains. 

So, I’m far from the first to name-check it as showing the dystopian future that the UK’s Ministry of Justice heralds with its test project to “explore alternative and innovative data science techniques to risk assessment of homicide.” 

That use of “homicide”, rather than the more British “murder”, is telling, almost like the Ministry wonks have just watched the movie. The pressure group Statewatch has no doubt where they’re heading, with data being used on people who may never have been convicted of an offence and “will code in bias towards racialised and low-income communities.” 

Spielberg was always ahead of the curve. But my fear is less the chilling dystopia that Statewatch sees in its precog. Actually, I’m more worried about the past in this context, or rather in how we treat the past. 

If I haven’t to date done anything wrong, then I have committed no offence. I am literally innocent. And that’s an absolute. An interpretation of data that indicates that I’m more likely to commit a crime than others is neither here (in my conscience) nor there (in the judicial system). 

Furthermore, there’s a theological point. If it is so, as we’re told, that no one is without sin, then we’re all culpable in the pasts that we have lived so far, but the future contains all we have to play for.  

To suggest that some of us are more likely to screw up in that future than others is very dangerously deterministic. It’s redolent of Calvinism’s doctrine of the “elect”, those who have already been marked for salvation and eternal bliss, regardless of what they do or don’t do in this life, while the rest of us, however virtuous our mortal deeds might be, will rot in hell. 

Neither Calvin’s determinism nor the Ministry of Justice’s prejudicial database leave any room for redemption. They’re just trying to identify events that will definitely (the former) or are likely to (the latter) happen. Conversely, we live in hope (for some of us a sure and certain hope) of a future in which we can be redeemed, whatever we have done in the past. 

And that’s why I find Minority Report an unsatisfactory analogy for the development of real-life precrime technology. It is a film that is only about determinism, which leaves no room for either free-will or redemption. And that’s applying a form of intelligence that is truly, er, artificial. 

The vital thing is that hope is fulfilled, the prisoners make it to their paradise after worthless lives spent in jail. Justice is seen to be done.

A more helpful movie, richer in its development of these themes – and not just because it’s got the word that I favour in its title - is 1994’s The Shawshank Redemption, based on a novel by Stephen King. Here we have the idea explored that the past isn’t only irrelevant to our futures, but doesn’t even really exist in time in relation to the future. 

It’s bursting with more religious themes even than Clint Eastwood’s spaghetti westerns, which are really only the righteous saviour turning up to defend flawed goodies from evil baddies, again and again. For a start, The Shawshank Redemption is set in a prison, where whole lives are spent atoning for crimes that have or haven’t been committed. See? 

Lifers who are released after decades struggle to cope or kill themselves. The central character, a messianic figure, lives in hope with his convict friend of reaching a beach in the Virgin Islands, while the prison warden describes himself as “the light of the world”, but is assisted by his prisoners in money-laundering – washing clean – his ill-gotten gains. 

I could go on. But the vital thing is that hope is fulfilled, the prisoners make it to their paradise after worthless lives spent in jail. Justice is seen to be done. But the important thing here is that there is no pre-crime determinism. The future, which often looks hopeless, is rolling out towards the possibility of redemption, which ultimately becomes the only certain reality. 

One can dwell on movie plots too long. They are only, if you’ll excuse the pun, projections of life. But it is nonetheless irritating both that a government department with Justice in its title can believe it worthwhile to explore how it might deploy AI to predict who tomorrow’s criminals are likely to be and its critics condemn it by using the wrong dramatic analogies. 

Minority Report was a dystopian thriller that suggests that the future can only be changed by human intervention. The Shawshank Redemption showed us that inextinguishable human hope is in a future we can’t control, but can depend on.     

Anyone who is interested in justice, especially those who work in a ministry for it, might benefit from downloading it.  

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Since March 2023, our readers have enjoyed over 1,000 articles. All for free. This is made possible through the generosity of our amazing community of supporters.
If you enjoy Seen & Unseen, would you consider making a gift towards our work?
Do so by joining Behind The Seen. Alongside other benefits, you’ll receive an extra fortnightly email from me sharing my reading and reflections on the ideas that are shaping our times.
Graham Tomlin
Editor-in-Chief