How Netflix’s ‘Mary’ Reframes the Nativity Through a Mother’s Eyes

Netflix’s newest Christmas offering begins with a teenage girl looking straight at the audience, “You may think you know my story. Trust me. You don’t. “

This is Mary, the mother of Jesus. This newest film from Roman Catholic director DJ Caruso broadens and refocuses the nativity on Christ’s mother. Rather than starting with an angel announcing the birth of Jesus, here we have an angel announcing the birth of Mary to her elderly parents.

You might quickly recognize that this is not exactly the Mary you’ve learned about in Sunday School. Mary expands the familiar narrative by integrating the history of Jerusalem in the years preceding the birth of Christ. It also takes a large helping of inspiration from the apocryphal book The Gospel of James. 

Mary is promised to the Lord at a young age and grows up in the temple under the tutelage of the prophetess Anna knowing the prophecy that she will be “the vessel.”

In many ways, this film reminds me of “The Chosen.” It attempts to immerse us into the world of the New Testament while helping us appreciate that the tidbits we have in scripture come from a world that was brimming with life.

Perhaps the most notable element of the film is Anthony Hopkins’s performance. Hopkins plays King Herod as jealous and petulant, but his performance is draped in palace intrigue. He is a vassal king, in power only because he refuses to use it. His villainy emerges from his insecurities. In one defiant moment, he describes himself as “The King of Things.”

When we read the scriptural story of Herod, a man who was scared of an infant, the image we get sometimes borders on caricature. Hopkins manages to make that depravity believable. By creating such a believably evil villain, we are better able to appreciate Mary’s heroism.

In many ways, the movie is as much about Herod’s relationship to Jesus as it is about Mary. 

Noa Cohen and Ido Tako, who play Mary and Joseph, put up performances worthy of the parts. Tako in particular, helps round out the motivations of Joseph in interesting ways. 

The screenplay gives us a riveting final act by tinkering with some of the timing of the gospel account. Here the magi appear to Herod just before the birth of Christ. So while Mary seeks to return to the temple, she is on the lam from Herod’s soldiers actively trying to find Jesus.

In most ways, though, it’s remarkable just how little Caruso needed to change from the gospel accounts to create a plot that fills the basic boxes of a contemporary blockbuster. 

The production design and effects are top-notch. In my conversation with Caruso, he noted that his budget for the film wasn’t huge, but I certainly couldn’t tell. He creates a world that feels alive and lived in, including some epic shots of Herod’s temple expansion. 

I think, ultimately, why this film works, and it does work for me, is that you can feel the care and craft that have gone into it. This is clearly a very personal work. This doesn’t feel like there was a tinkering team of religious advisors sanding down every moment that might conflict with how anyone might see the nativity story. It simply feels like an expression of faith from those who made it.

You should know this is not a family movie. This is a PG-13 thriller. If you are curious about how some top-notch artists interpret and bring to life the story of Mary and the circumstances around the birth of Christ, it’s worth your time. But it is pretty violent (not gory). The appearances of the Angel Gabriel are cinematic but can be unsettling. Lucifer appears in a few scenes that frightened me. 

If you do choose to watch this one with your children, perhaps you could ask them why Lucifer and Herod wanted to stop the Messiah from being born so badly. What can we learn from Mary’s example? What mission has the Lord given each of us, and what do we need to sacrifice to make it happen? 

Three out of five stars. Mary releases on Netflix on December 6, 2024.