When Jeymes Samuel exploded onto the scene with 2021’s bombastic all-Black western The Harder They Fall, it heralded the arrival of a fresh, intriguing perspective. Doubling down on his yen for reviving retro genres, Samuel’s subsequent proclamation takes the form of the offbeat biblical comedy, The Book of Clarence.

The opening shot cuts straight to the point with its eponymous character nailed to a cross. Music booms dramatically and Clarence (LaKeith Stanfield) stares sombrely into the camera with strong ‘You’re probably wondering how I ended up here’ energy. We jump back in time to see Clarence and his best friend Elijah (RJ Cyler) – a pair of streetwise hustlers who have just lost a Ben-Hur-like chariot race to Mary Magdalene (Teyana Taylor).

Things go from bad to worse as it transpires that Clarence is now in debt to local gangster, Jedediah the Terrible, and must pay him back or face death. Savvy as ever, Clarence notes the increasing popularity of a local man named Jesus (Nicholas Pinnock) and the rockstar-like status of his twelve disciples. He decides to garner notoriety – and thus money – by becoming the 13th Apostle. It’s a wonderfully wacky idea to explore on such a scale and Samuel attacks his premise with a heady blend of silliness and sincerity.

While comparisons to Monty Python’s The Life of Brian seem inevitable, as Clarence is also very much not the Messiah, Samuel steers away from overt mockery (the validity of Mary being a virgin at the time of her immaculate conception notwithstanding). Instead, he favours humorous caricatures such as a thoroughly unimpressed John the Baptist (David Oyelowo) bashing Clarence both verbally and physically for his disingenuous claims of spiritual conversion.

As his schemes bring him fortune, Clarence begins to wonder if he is capable of using his status to be a force for good. What Samuel explores here is engaging, yet, the scattergun approach of the comedic elements threatens to undermine any serious intent. Scenes flicker between joyful hit and bemusing miss and it feels as if the film has been thrown together in a manner that feels experimental. The script, meanwhile, is too rudimentary to match the full satirical potential of the premise.

Despite these narrative issues, Stanfield weathers the unevenness. He is a versatile actor, and his best roles, which include swaggering outlaw Cherokee Bill in The Harder They Fall, jaded telemarketer Cassius in Sorry to Bother You, to an Oscar-nominated turn as conflicted FBI informant William O’Neal in Judas and the Black Messiah, play on moral duality.

The Book of Clarence builds on those strengths, as it’s a film which demonstrates the same likeable flair, verve and artistic commitment as its predecessor. And yet, while its originality continues to cement Samuel as one of the more intriguing new filmmakers in the last few years, it’s too disjointed to truly hit home. Whether a gag-filled gospel tale is everyone’s cup of tea or not, this should at least leave audiences curious to see more of what’s inside Samuel’s head.

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