The Chosen is Critically Flawed
The Chosen, a streaming series that dramatizes the life of Jesus Christ, has emerged as something of a phenomenon within the Christian media landscape, amassing over 500 million views across its first three seasons to an audience of 108 million. In the process cultivating a sizable fan base, mainly centered in the United States. The show came to life thanks to a record-breaking crowdfunding campaign and holds the distinction of being the largest crowdfunded media project ever.
The Chosen was marketed as a dramatic portrayal of the Gospels and received praise from numerous quarters of American Christianity, with evangelicals leading the way. The show’s popularity was so significant that its lead actor, Jonathan Roumie, earned a spot on The View. While not the most Christ-friendly of platforms, this appearance nonetheless highlights the show’s growing cultural footprint.
One of the main appeals of the series is its emergence as an entertainment touchstone for modern believers seeking media representation for their faith in an increasingly secular entertainment landscape—one that is often indifferent, or even hostile, to Christianity.
Yet, despite the critical and commercial acclaim the show has garnered, upon closer scrutiny, questions arise. Does The Chosen truly deserve its reputation as a revitalizing force in faith-based media, or is its success a symptom of something else? In this post, I will argue that the show’s rise owes more to the deep-seated cultural yearning of a marginalized religious demographic than to any remarkable artistic merit or theological achievement.
Far from being a transformative work, The Chosen is a flawed, confused, and often misleading symbol of contemporary Christian storytelling. Here I will proceed to examine its lack of originality, technical shortcomings, questionable acting, and narrative liberties, along with the cultural and theological implications they carry.
Lack of Originality: Retreading Familiar Ground
From the standpoint of historical Christian media, The Chosen steps into a crowded field of Christ-centered motion picture adaptations. With Christ-based media stretching back decades, including spectacles like The Greatest Story Ever Told (1965), to the visceral, blood-soaked intensity of Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ (2004). These works, while diverse in scope and style, are unified by their reliance on the same source material: the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.
The Chosen follows this well-worn path but struggles to replicate that spiritual intensity, and instead, produces a rather trite and dramatically inflated offering that is neither refreshing nor inspiring from the standpoint of a critical viewer.
Billed as a “dramatized” retelling, The Chosen presents a string of familiar scenes from Jesus’s life: the healing of the sick, his encounters with the Romans, and delivering parables to attentive crowds, which are competently executed but lack that artistic appeal and spiritual impact.
For viewers steeped in Scripture or even casually acquainted with biblical media, the experience borders on déjà vu. This is not a new problem for any production company tackling the task of visual storytelling the Gospels. However, The Chosen’s route to differentiate itself by humanizing peripheral figures and expanding upon their ‘backstory’ whilst commendable, is also somewhat presumptuous.
Matthew, who is portrayed as a man with social anxiety, or Nicodemus, as someone burdened by inner turmoil as he grapples with his Pharisaical beliefs with the wisdom of Christ, are examples that try but ultimately fail to match the mastery of older (greater) works.
Classics like Ben-Hur (1959) and The Robe (1953) masterfully wove personal struggles into the broader tapestry of Christ’s story, using fictional characters to amplify the Gospel narrative without overshadowing it, nor diminishing its deeper mystery. Then we have masterworks like Peter Sykes and John Krish’s Jesus (1979), a drama that married meticulous historical detail with a reverent tone, becoming one of the most watched movies in history. Martin Scorsese’s The Last Temptation of Christ (1988), a polarizing yet audacious exploration of Jesus’ humanity that dared to ask provocative questions about divinity and doubt, merits mention.
The Chosen, in its defense, is a streaming show, not a movie, that, in comparison, opts for safety over daring. Its much-touted innovations—modern pacing, fleshed out backstories (i.e. filler content) and an episodic format tailored for streaming—upon deeper scrutiny feel more like superficial attempts at placating modern viewing habits than a meaningful reimagining of the Biblical narrative.
Aesthetic Mediocrity
On the production side, The Chosen is a drab affair. Despite the significant investment, the show falters in its technical scope and execution. While it may be unfair to compare it to prestigious productions like The Crown or Game of Thrones, such comparisons are inevitable. These (secular) series boast great cinematography, intricate set designs, and rich visual enhancements, whereas The Chosen bears the unmistakable marks of its low-budget origins. Its aesthetic choices—dim lighting, bland hues, and uninspired framing—leave viewers (like me) with an underwhelming visual experience, from an entertainment standpoint.
The dark, shadowy haze that pervades many scenes might be intended to convey “gritty realism,” but instead, it drains the vibrancy from a region known for its stark deserts, bustling markets, and sun-scorched landscapes. Consider the Sermon on the Mount—a pivotal moment that should radiate awe and grandeur as the Messiah lays out the framework for his new spiritual order. In The Chosen, this moment unfolds on a (not very hilly) hillside under overcast conditions, with a small, static gathering, lacking the visual impact needed to match its spiritual significance.
Defenders might argue that the show’s spiritual message transcends its production quality—fair enough. However, this argument overlooks a crucial point: technical mediocrity actively hampers storytelling. A poorly lit exchange between Jesus and a disciple (compounded by weak dialogue) struggles to convey the gravitas of their words. For a series aspiring to reach both devout believers and curious newcomers, these shortcomings diminish its ability to captivate and convince.
Contrived Acting
The acting in The Chosen is another negative. Whilst Jonathan Roumie’s portrayal of Jesus is an overall positive one, offering a gentle, approachable Messiah designed to resonate with modern audiences weary of the mysterious and didactic depictions of yesteryear. However, the choice to humanize Christ—to make him more accessible, even relatable—tends to flatten the character’s complexity into a one-note performance that lacks the depth and mystery of the Gospels.
Unlike Willem Dafoe’s tormented, conflicted Christ or Jim Caviezel’s stoic, suffering Jesus in The Passion, whose silence carried profound weight, Roumie’s rendition often reduces the Son of God to a generic inspirational figure, stripped of the enigmatic power that defines the biblical narrative.
The supporting cast fares no better, and often worse. Younger actors struggle with dialogue that feels stilted and rehearsed rather than lived-in. Lines are delivered with a cadence more suited to reciting Scripture, giving the impression that many of these performers are fresh (failures) out of film school.
The show’s attempt to infuse modern sensibilities into the dialogue—disciples trading quips like characters in a contemporary sitcom, or Roman soldiers oscillating between cartoonish villainy and wooden formality—erodes immersion. Simon Peter’s banter with Andrew, for instance, might draw a chuckle or two, but it feels jarringly out of place in a story set two millennia ago, pulling serious viewers out of the narrative.
Adding to this is a motley mixture of faux-Mediterranean accents, an awkward compromise that neither fully commits to historical realism nor embraces a modernized tone. Unlike The Passion of the Christ, which used Aramaic and Latin with subtitles to anchor viewers in the era, The Chosen relies on vocal affectations that come across as contrived. This issue is exacerbated by the script’s overt dramatization, resulting in tonal confusion. The series, to me, ends up in limbo: neither convincingly ancient nor comfortably contemporary, diluting its believability.
Narrative that Blurs Truth and Tale
Perhaps the most contentious aspect of The Chosen is its willingness to take liberties with Biblical accounts. The choice by the producers to introduce subplots, characters, and events that stray from the Gospel accounts is concerning for anyone seeking an authentic adaptation of Holy writ. While creative licenses are a staple of adaptation in filmmaking, and few expected a verbatim retelling; however, this show’s approach to storytelling blurs the line between dramatization and outright fabrication, raising questions about its authenticity and purpose.
In the first episode of season 2, Jesus visits the home of a man involved in the beating and robbery of the Good Samaritan. Jesus meets the culprit, who, owing to another criminal misadventure, had badly injured his leg. The meeting with this brigand culminates in the man’s leg being miraculously healed—a detail with no canonical basis. This raises the question: since such an event is absent from Scripture, is it theologically acceptable to draw moral and spiritual lessons from such a fabricated scenario, however well-intended?
Those in favor might argue that such additions enrich the narrative, providing emotional context to Jesus’s teachings and making them more relatable to modern viewers. Yet this approach carries significant risks. By suggesting that the Gospels require embellishment to hold an audience’s attention, The Chosen implicitly challenges their sufficiency—a potentially troubling stance for a faith tradition that views Scripture as divinely inspired, with its events as historical.
Manufactured scenarios, such as the Messiah healing a man’s leg, or invented interpersonal dramas—like Mary Magdalene’s expanded backstory—may heighten viewers’ interest, but they also inject contemporary sensibilities into ancient texts, generating an artificial sentimentality that robs the narrative of its spiritual power.
For viewers unfamiliar with Scripture, such liberties pose an even deeper problem. Besides muddying the waters between fact and fiction, they risk creating a distorted understanding of Christian doctrine. Imagine a newcomer watching the healing of the Good Samaritan’s attacker and assuming it to be an authentic part of the parable—such confusion undermines the series’ value as an evangelical tool.
While bold reinterpretations have their place—Scorsese’s The Last Temptation of Christ openly wrestled with theological hypotheticals—The Chosen offers no such clarity, presenting its inventions as seamless extensions of the Gospel narrative. This lack of distinction weakens its credibility.
Misframing Miracles
The Chosen raises concerning theological questions regarding its dramatic portrayal of miracles, healing, and other divine interventions that punctuate Jesus’ ministry. These events, affirmed as historical in Scripture, are central to the Christian message, yet their depiction through modern mediums like streaming services for a 21st-century audience prompts further reflection.
It is important to understand the time and context of these events. The Chosen series, like all Biblical media, depicts a premodern world where divine power intersects with daily life in moments of immediacy and certainty: a woman’s bleeding is healed by touching the Messiah’s garment, a storm is calmed with a word, and a demon flees at a command. While these portrayals remain faithful to the text, their unnuanced and theologically ungrounded presentation risks fostering expectations that conflict with the lived reality of modern minds.
Today, physical ailments are addressed by medicine, not miracles; natural disasters are mitigated by technology, not prayer; problems like poverty and hunger are tackled through political action informed by rational economic policies. Mainstream Christian denominations—Catholic, Protestant, and Orthodox alike—largely frame miracles as exceptional acts tied to specific historical contexts. They emphasize faith’s role in spiritual transformation while downplaying the physical dimension, even when it occurs, often viewing healing as a pathway toward conversion or deeper connection to the divine.
The Chosen attempts to reconcile the ancient world of miracles and healing with the perspectives of modern rational minds, but does so simplistically, with little exploration of metaphysical implications. The disciples’ doubts, the skepticism of onlookers, or the socio-political tensions surrounding these events in first-century Judea are insufficiently addressed. A simplification that (wrongly) suggests a continuity of divine power as a constant force intervening in human affairs, as it was in ancient times: that is, with the same level of intensity today. Such a portrayal risks misleading believers into anticipating similar wonders in their own lives, rather than encouraging them to confront reality as it is and take concrete action to address their challenges.
Such a theology of healing—or the lack thereof—aligns more closely with fringe charismatic movements, including certain nefarious cults that sensationalize miracles to entice followers. These wonders often encourage the faithful to drink the proverbial ‘Kool-Aid,’ disempowering their purpose and rendering them pliant instruments for the agendas of their worship leaders.
The Chosen’s focus on dramatization, where miracles serve as showcases for divine power that is no longer consistently operative in the world today, paradoxically risks skewing faith toward escapism. It runs the risk of presenting the Christian message of hope and Redemption as a series of supernatural fixes in a worldly sense, rather than as a challenging and transformative journey that a relationship with God is meant to be.
Filling an Unnecessary Void
To fully grasp The Chosen’s appeal, one must look beyond its artistic merits to the cultural landscape it inhabits. In an increasingly secular (Western) world, Christian media has been relegated to the fringes—think low-budget films with heavy-handed messages, syrupy worship albums, or moralistic novels that rarely break into mainstream consciousness.
Against this backdrop, The Chosen emerges as a bit of an exception: a crowdfunded initiative that has raised over $40 million from tens of thousands of donors, secured streaming slots on Netflix and now Prime, of all places. Aided by viral clips of Christ-related content on social media, to growing social profile of the lead actor Jonathan Roumie, who recently made an appearance on The Jimmy Fallon Show. So its success is undeniable, and for many believers, the series represents a long-overdue incursion of faith-friendly content into secular spaces. But is it the right kind of incursion?
The surge of enthusiasm for shows like The Chosen reflects a deep-seated hunger among Christians for media that resonates with their values—content that moves beyond the stigma of amateurism and heavy-handed preachiness. Yet, a closer, more critical look suggests that the excitement surrounding the series arises less from an objective appreciation of its artistic merit but more from a sense of desperation. A fervor that is fueled primarily by a latent demand for Christian content, which churches eagerly embrace as a bold counterpoint to secular culture, drives the show’s widespread popularity.
In other words, the enthusiasm for The Chosen and similar Christ-based media stems less from artistic excellence and more from ideological alignment—a sense that supporting these projects is an act of faith in itself. The Chosen knowingly or otherwise taps into a broader anxiety in what remains of Christian America: the fear that Christianity, sidelined by Hollywood and mainstream media, must seize any opportunity to reclaim relevance, even if the vessel is imperfect.
This desperation breeds a troubling dynamic. Desperate to make a mark in popular culture, fans of the show seem to overlook its flaws, excusing technical mediocrity or narrative missteps as secondary to its spiritual mission. This cycle of lowered expectations risks perpetuating a stereotype that Christian art must settle for less, reinforcing the very marginalization it seeks to overcome. The Chosen’s rise, then, is less a triumph of quality and art than a symptom of scarcity at the level of high culture—a flawed but fervent attempt to fill a void that deserves more than a tried-and-tested retread.
Conclusion: The Chosen is Kitsch
The Chosen owes its success not to its creative merit or evangelical power but to the demand for faith-based media in popular culture. For Christians starved of representation in a secular society, it offers a flawed yet earnest reprieve that, however imperfectly, feeds the faithful’s artistic cravings.
Yet celebrating such mediocrity comes at a cost. By settling for such artistic shortcomings, uninspired storytelling, theological ambiguity, and a potentially misleading message on reconciling the worlds of faith and reason, the series reinforces a divide between myth and reality, paradoxically fueling the latent notion that the two cannot coexist. This isn’t a call to dismiss the success of The Chosen outright, but to approach it with rigorous scrutiny as a faithful viewer.
The show stands as one interpretation among many, well-intentioned but severely limited in its emotive power and depth. An artistic stepping stone at best. Moving forward, true cultural relevance for Christian storytelling lies not in clinging to nostalgia or rallying around tried-and-tested narratives but in embracing bold, rigorous art that engages the modern world head-on, while weaving in elements of the spiritual.
Imagine a faith-inspired series that combines the production values of Game of Thrones with the narrative audacity of Attack on Titan, or a film franchise that collaborates with creatives to adapt biblical themes found in 1 Kings, providing a raw, unfiltered take on faith and history that goes beyond the events of the four Gospels.
If Christians are serious about having an artistic impact on culture, it’s time to envision storytelling that explores the intersection of faith and reason through genres like science fiction or psychological horror. Content that grapples with the enduring relevance of the divine in a world driven by technological advancement, material progress, political power, and the evils that stem from their misuse. Until such visionary creations take shape, The Chosen remains a faint glimmer for Christian faith-inspired art—a fleeting suggestion of what could be.
