As a long-time theatre professor at a Christian College, I occasionally hear well-meaning students extol the virtues of what they refer to as “Christian drama.” When pressed as to what they mean by this term, they usually mention films like Pure Flix Entertainment’s God’s Not Dead or, more recently, Angel Studio’s Sound of Freedom. For a variety of aesthetic and theological reasons too lengthy to address here, I am generally not a fan of such films or the scandalously narrow definition of “Christian drama” they present.
Themes of redemption and forgiveness, so central to the Christian story, predictably pervade many of the so-called “Christian dramas” that my students uplift. Don’t get me wrong, as a Christian, artist, and audience member, nobody appreciates a good redemption or forgiveness story more than I. However, the sanitized and oversimplified formulations of these complex themes, as presented in many films by Angel Studios and others, usually cause me to throw up a little in my mouth. Paradoxically, I personally sense Christ’s presence and influence much more palpably in grittier, messier, and exponentially more truthful aesthetic texts. By this measure, HBO’s stunning new limited series, Task, may be the best “Christian drama” I’ve seen in years.
Conceived and written by Brad Ingelsby, the creative force behind the equally resplendent The Mare of Eastown, Task revolves around two grievously broken men in search of redemption. Tom Brandis (Mark Ruffalo), a former Catholic priest turned FBI agent, struggles to balance the demands of his high-stakes job with his responsibilities as a father to his adopted daughter. Unfortunately, the complicated family dynamics surrounding the recent violent death of his wife have paralyzed Tom; barely functional, he drinks too much and struggles with nihilistic moods. Out of habit, he robotically kneels in prayer at his bedside, but no one seems to be listening.
Tom is assigned to lead a task force to investigate a series of drug-related robberies in Eastern Pennsylvania masterminded by local garbage man, Robbie Prendergrast (Tom Pelphrey). Mirroring Tom’s storyline, Robbie also struggles with grief and anger resulting from the death of a family member: his beloved brother was murdered by a local drug-running biker gang. When Robbie’s revenge-fueled robbery spree accidentally results in the killing of members of the drug-running gang, common sense dictates that he must kill the only surviving witness, Sam (Ben Lewis Doherty), the innocent and angelic child of the slain. Instead, Robbie rescues the sensitive boy from the drug den, caring for Sam as a surrogate, fugitive father for a time. Of course, this foolish yet gracious act only escalates Tom’s investigation from a drug case into a high-stakes
manhunt for kidnapping.
Among the many aspects of Task worthy of praise, the magnificent acting stands out. In their parallel roles, Ruffalo and Pelphrey should slice the Emmy statue in half between them for the veracity of their rich characterizations. Ruffalo lumbers through his scenes like a maimed animal, his pudgy belly hanging over his gun belt like a metaphor for his decline from benevolence. For his part, Pelphrey captures the restive danger of a man constantly on the razor’s edge between violence and trying to be the kind of dad who takes his little girl to a middle school father/daughter dance. And while every member of the deep ensemble thrives at portraying their down-but-not-quite-out characters, the performance of Maeve (Emilia Jones) rises to the level of revelation. As Robbie’s orphaned teenage niece, Jones’ Maeve is fierce yet vulnerable, maternal yet childlike. Caught in the tide of her uncle’s criminal schemes, she poignantly navigates the massive crest between her desperate situation and dreams of a gracious future.
Without a moment of maudlin sentimentality, these astonishing characters eventually participate in breathtaking acts of redemption. Ruffalo’s Tom rises from the bottom of his personal pit of despair to become a true agent of justice, both for the FBI and for the victims he serves and protects. Likewise, Pelphrey’s Robbie selflessly schemes and sacrifices. Weighed down by his sins, he relentlessly fights for the innocent people around him, his beloved family included, so that they might transcend their desperate path of generational privation.
And the forgiveness, my God, the forgiveness. Working the case gradually draws Tom out of his deep depression. Near the end of the series, we begin to understand what a good Priest he must have been. In the sixth episode, a guilt-stricken fellow task force member, Anthony Grasso (Fabien Joseph Frankel), mocks his supervisor’s previous calling, prodding, “You say your Hail Marys and your Our Fathers, and then what? All those sins, they just disappear like they never existed. ’Cause, I mean, God don’t seem like someone who forgets, right? You ever done something you’re sure you can’t be forgiven for Tom?” Beleaguered by his own failings in this area, Tom calmly replies, “Confession is for humans. It’s a human practice to help us deal with the shame. Confession’s not for God’s sake. If you want to be forgiven, all you have to do is ask.”
Indeed, the seventh and final episode of Task offers a masterclass in the dramaturgy of forgiveness. Ingelsby’s inspired script tricks expectation by resolving the well-told crime drama early in the episode. This surprisingly leaves the last forty minutes of the series for Tom to finally face his need to be forgiven and to forgive. Inspired by the criminal actions that he helped redress, this former priest painfully crawls toward Paul’s directive to “be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” For me, the climactic, messy, and authentic rendering of Tom’s remarkable path through forgiveness exemplifies what Aristotle argues great drama should bring: catharsis.
As you can probably tell from this review, parts of Task may not be suitable for the entire family. It contains harsh violence and intense scenes reflective of the broken and depraved world it depicts. Nor is it melodramatic, offering cheap platitudes and easy resolutions to complicated questions. Of course, these same qualifiers could also be applied to another complex text, the Bible.
But yes, this TV-MA-rated series that contains profanity and truthful depictions of violence, drug use, and sex, fits, in the very best sense, my definition of “Christian drama.”
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