Redeeming Love (2022)

(On Cable TV, October 2022) If ever you find yourself wondering what the heck kind of gosh-darned film Redeeming Love is supposed to be, don’t worry: there are plenty of explanations to offer. The biggest piece of the puzzle is that it’s not only an adaptation of a novel, but a novel that explicitly attaches itself to the Christian romance subgenre. As such, it’s prone to tropes that may feel baffling to viewers who aren’t immersed in American Biblical/Christian subculture. The first few moments of the film may lead you to believe that it’s a hard-hitting feminist fable about the exploitation of women during the Gold Rush—but no: suffering is how this subgenre builds character, and the protagonist’s arc is to go from sinner to saint. You may have your doubts about the man who virtuously takes it upon himself to rescue her from the fate as a whorehouse star yet ensures that she can leave at any time—but no, he is the Anti-Manic Anti-Pixie Anti-Dream Anti-Girl but he is the pretext she needs in order to become more virtuous. As Redeeming Love’s episodes accumulate and zig-zag all over the place, a few things will become clearer: The film is dearly in love with itself, for one thing. For another, it should have been a miniseries. Or, for a third, it should have taken far more liberties with the source material. Still, the biggest surprise here is to see that D. J. Caruso co-wrote (with the original author) and directed the film—Caruso is nowhere as bankable or well-known as he was in the late-2000s for directing a few well-received thrillers, and it’s a surprise to see him work in the Christian subgenre. Also surprising, but welcome: Famke Janssen’s deliciously evil performance as a brothel madam, against whom the leads of the film are not even worth mentioning. The technical credentials of the film are pretty good, and Caruso can still capture an image nicely. Unfortunately, Redeeming Love is built on a quicksand foundation—unlikable female lead, objectified male lead, bits and pieces of sexual abuse, incest and pedophilia thrown in the mix for thrills, a tone that shifts every fifteen minutes, and some really weird quirks that make no sense until you find out it’s from the Christian publishing enclave at which point you go—oh, right. Not everything makes sense, but at least there’s an explanation.