It’s probably not a great idea to review a film while the tears are still wet on my face, but here I am, weeping and writing, and urging you to watch the deeply moving film, Tinā (Mother).
The protagonist, Mareta Percival, a music teacher dedicated to her Samoan community in New Zealand, suffers the tragic loss of her daughter in the devastating earthquake that hit Christchurch in 2011. She spirals into a depression, leaving both teaching and her Catholic faith, unable to cope with her grief.
At the urging of her nephew, and facing the very real possibility of losing the aid that is barely sustaining her, Mareta takes a position in an elite private school and establishes a choir.
Mareta not only faces bigotry from the staff, but resentment from her friends for abandoning the community school. She defends the children in the prep school, observing they have their own challenges. Meanwhile, Mareta navigates the loss of her faith, alluded to in a passing scene with the empty spot where a crucifix once graced a wall, now notably removed, but still present in the sunburned and stained impression upon the empty wall. The politics of school administration, bigotry and class conflict, and relationships impacted by her grief weave a tapestry of conflict and despair.
Despite her mourning, Mareta finds purpose in helping one of her new students who reawakens her love of music.
Reminiscent of Sister Act 2, much of the action is driven by the choir’s challenges when they enter a prestigious choral competition. Mareta trains her students by sharing her Samoan culture, teaching them traditional songs and dances.
There is much to unpack in this film, sometimes funny, always tender. Tinā conveys the power of music as both a source of community and healing. Despite the undertones of loss, this is a story filled with hope.
Remember those scratchy old filmstrips from elementary school religion class? The ones where the projector jammed halfway through, and we didn’t even try to hide our joy when Sister had to stop the lesson early? Those days are long gone. Catholic content in film has stepped up its game with real production value, strong storytelling, and movies or series that could hold their own next to anything in your streaming services.
That shift is important because what we watch shapes how we see the world. Stories matter. Jesus taught through parables, inviting people to step into a narrative and discover truth inside it. Film is the modern parable machine, and when Catholics create or support good content, we’re helping bring those truths to a culture that desperately needs them.
It Isn’t Preachy Anymore
For a long time, faith-based film had a reputation for being cringey with heavy-handed messaging that felt more like a sermon than a story. But today’s Catholic filmmakers are taking a different approach crafting dramas, comedies, and documentaries that don’t hit you over the head with doctrine, but instead pull you in with relatable characters and authentic storytelling.
Think about it: a documentary that makes you weep with admiration at someone’s life (Broken Mary). A comedy that captures the chaos of family life while sneaking in moments of grace (Neighborhood Watch). A drama that leaves you wrestling with forgiveness or sacrifice long after the credits roll (Cabrini). And now, a musical about Saint Bernadette (Bernadette de Lourdes). These stories aren’t just “Catholic movies,” they’re good movies that happen to be Catholic at their core.
The cinematography is gorgeous, the sound design is crisp, and the acting is solid. When you watch something like this, you’re not distracted by cheesy flaws, you’re immersed in the story.
Quality builds credibility. If we want people outside the faith to encounter Catholic ideas in film, the last thing we should do is to reinforce the stereotype that Christian media is second-rate.
Implicit vs. Explicit Storytelling
One of the things I love most about Catholic film today is the range. Some productions are explicit; documentaries on the lives of saints, films about Eucharistic miracles, or biopics directly showcase faith in action. These are powerful because they share our stories in ways that inspire both believers and seekers.
But just as important are the implicit stories. Fictional films where Christian themes are woven in naturally: the quiet heroism of a mother, the struggle of a flawed character seeking redemption, the beauty of sacrifice, or the humor of everyday family life. Sometimes a viewer walks away thinking, “That was such a great story!” only to realize later they’ve been nudged toward a deeper truth. One of my favorite films, The Trouble with Angels (1966), starring Rosalind Russell and Hayley Mills, captures the beauty of religious vocation in a way that delves into discernment and love of God while entertaining and delighting the audience with comedic antics.
Both explicit and implicit storytelling have a role, and both are thriving right now.
Why Promotion Matters
These films only make an impact if people actually watch them. The streaming world is crowded. Theaters are dominated by blockbusters. We need to show up for Catholic content. Click, stream, share, and talk about it so it doesn’t disappear into the background noise.
Promoting Catholic film isn’t just about being a cheerleader; it’s about being a witness. When you recommend a documentary about a saint to a friend, or when you invite your family to watch a Catholic drama on a Friday night, you’re opening doors to conversations that matter. You’re helping people encounter goodness, beauty, and truth in a way that feels natural.
Watching Catholic content isn’t just entertainment, it’s participation in the mission. Every view, every ticket, every social media share tells filmmakers: Yes, we want this. And it tells the wider culture: Catholic stories belong here, too.
So the next time you’re scrolling through your streaming options or deciding what to watch with your kids, give Catholic productions a chance. Laugh at a comedy that feels a little too close to home. Be inspired by a saint’s story. Let yourself get lost in a drama that echoes eternal themes. And when you find something good, don’t keep it to yourself. Share it. Talk about it. Invite others into it. The more we watch and promote these films, the more the world gets to see the richness of our faith brought to life on screen.
I usually enjoy animated films, and generally appreciate the themes explored in them, but the K-Pop inspired soundtrack of K-Pop Demon Hunters didn’t appeal to me. In fact, I had to power through the opening. But, it was highly recommended by someone I love, so I stayed the course.
No regrets.
The film follows a K-Pop girl group that carries a secret mission: battling demons! Is it a new take on Buffy the Vampire Slayer? Sort of. I admit I liked the music, so that’s a first for me, but the film itself is a surprisingly layered story about identity and purpose, and the unseen spiritual battles taking place all around us.
For Christians, spiritual warfare is very real. St. Paul reminds us in Ephesians 6:12, that we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers of darkness and spiritual forces of evil. This film explores the reality of spiritual warfare.
One of the things that struck me early in the film is the identity crisis faced by the protagonist, Rumi. She hides a part of her identity that she is ashamed of, and the effort it takes to sustain this façade affects her life in many ways. From a practical perspective, it affects the quality of her life because she sacrifices many experiences in order to maintain her secret. She isn’t not living her true self, and we see how that hurts her and her relationships.
Rumi’s demon-side manifests physically with markings on her body. It makes me think of how sin marks us. As the film progresses, the markings become stronger, a connection to our concupiscence, our inclination to sin. St Paul calls this the rebellion of the “flesh” against the “spirit” (Galatians 5:17). Honestly, her internal struggle was the most compelling part of the film.
Rumi’s shame was real, and I felt empathy for her, as who among us hasn’t felt shame at some point in our lives? The film misses the opportunity to explore mercy and our belovedness in the eyes of God, but it moves adjacent to this theme, and thus can spark that conversation.
The rest of the story explores mission and purpose. In this case, the hidden mission of the girl-band to fight the demons in the world. They each wrestle with fear, failure, and self-doubt, but choose to pursue a mission that not only demands courage but self-sacrifice. There is also a storyline about redemption.
This film can be an opportunity for teens to engage in conversations with adults about identity, purpose, and the importance of spiritual vigilance. I would give one caveat about a scene where a character gives up his soul to another. Its sacrificial appeal can be misconstrued and merits a conversation about the unique connection of the soul to the individual. Church teaching is clear that we cannot transfer our salvation to another, so I initially found this scene to be highly problematic. Nevertheless, the dominant theme of good versus evil reminds us that the battle is ongoing. One doesn’t have to try too hard to find consistent Christian themes in this fast-paced and engaging film. And the soundtrack? I loved it.
