The 2024 film Bonhoeffer: Pastor. Spy. Assassin. ignited criticism from scholars who argued that it distorts Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s legacy and promotes a message at odds with his writings. Similar criticism has been levied at Gandhi (1982), Confucius (2010), Hannah Arendt (2012), and Restless Heart: The Confessions of Saint Augustine (2012). Do the authors who belong on ethics syllabi also belong on the silver screen? What are the benefits and dangers of looking to the lives of philosophers and theologians for inspiration and entertainment? How have storytellers done this responsibly or irresponsibly in the past, and what lessons can be learned from analyzing their efforts? Should kids watch a movie about al-Ghazali courageously writing the Ihya? Or is Heidegger right that “he lived, he worked, he died” is all we need to know about Aristotle’s life?
In this paper, I critically analyze the only two films ever made about Saint Augustine—Agostino d’Ippona (1972) and Restless Heart (2012)—in light of what James K. A. Smith calls an Augustinian, “incarnational” account of film as part of a broader Christian aesthetic. With help from Smith, I first demonstrate how film can, despite Augustine’s critique of theater, move the minds and hearts of viewers to God. I then comparatively evaluate Restless Heart and Agostino d’Ippona with an eye toward this normative standard for “good” cinema. While I conclude that both films fail to reflect this Augustinian vision, their shortcomings reveal an inherent tension in any “biopic” featuring a Christian hero. By yielding to the cinematic temptation to glorify the protagonist as morally exceptional, these films risk idolizing their subjects, drawing the minds and hearts of viewers not toward God but toward the love of autonomous human achievement.
Not all students of religious ethics are film buffs and not all film buffs indulge heavily in theory. This paper introduces students of religious ethics to insights gleaned from film theory to (1) better untangle what is at stake in the depiction of theological thinkers and (2) better ground their critiques of those cultural products. Observing the tension between art and commerce is a crucial first step to our work. Real art, according to Andrei Tarkovsky, is produced by the artist’s pursuit of truth. It is thus dialogical like Paul Schrader’s Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters. But commercial interests also drive cinema as a vehicle for entertainment. “What do filmgoers want,” asked D. W. Griffith: “A girl and a gun.” This understanding of spectacle informs how Angel Studios flattened the movie originally titled God’s Spy into the far more digestible Bonhoeffer: Pastor. Spy. Assassin.
Movie depictions of Bonhoeffer, like 2024’s Bonhoeffer: Pastor. Spy. Assassin. are problematic as they recreate certain events or snippets of dialog lending themselves to drama, excitement, or promotion of editorial biases. A “Bonhoeffer Moment” - where someone makes a decision at a crucial defining moment of life-changing and momentous importance – gets exaggerated. In the newest film, Bonhoeffer’s conspiratorial involvement is embellished with historical inaccuracies and exaggeration. The film portrays a Bonhoeffer enthusiastic about violence. It is thus potentially dangerous as individuals or groups might be inclined to employ violence as they assign their “Bonhoeffer Moment” to present-day conflicts. A responsible portrait challenges the existence of any “Bonhoeffer Moment,” and tries to understand his conspiratorial activities more accurately by contextualizing them in terms of the theology-action dyad as his life progressed. Ultimately, Bonhoeffer’s heroism lies in the fact that his actions were consistent with his thought, not in any particular moment.