Hailed as a religious epic saga, “The Book of Clarence” by the illustrious Jeymes Samuel fails to become a wraparound narrative. The film takes us through the life of Clarence, a street hustler in A.D. 33 Jerusalem, played by LaKeith Stanfield. Samuel’s film weaves a bizarre, forceful tale of political satire, defying the stereotypical expectations placed on Black cinema.

The storyline orbits around Clarence, an atheist street hustler who survives selling drugs in the straits of Jerusalem. The world around Clarence swirls with shady enterprises, lustful women, and a life of survival upon the streets. Clarence's twin brother, Thomas, also played by Stanfield, follows Jesus as an apostle, throwing in an interesting dynamic.

One of the memorable scenes ensues early on when Clarence borrows money from the menacing gangster Jedediah the Terrible (Eric Kofi-Abrefa), only to lose it in a chariot race against Mary Magdalene (Teyana Taylor). Captured beautifully by Rob Hardy’s cinematography, you might almost feel the thrill of the rider with the rumbling wheels underneath.

After their defeat, Clarence considers baptism, thinking this may gain divine protection. He soon shoulders the amusing slap from John the Baptist (David Oyelowo), brushing off the vanity of his consideration. This leads Clarence to contemplate joining Jesus’s apostles for protection, a plan with its share of shortcomings since Clarence is, after all, an atheist.

Struggling from one flawed hustle to the next, with a sense of humor that often misses the mark, Clarence comes up with a desperate plan to pose as a new messiah, inviting laughs with a literal lightbulb moment. The film tries, with limited success, to juggle between lampooning Christianity and exploring Clarence's journey of self-discovery.

“The Book of Clarence” does manage to draw one in with its stylish portrayal, rich costumes, and evocative wide-angle shots, but Samuel’s unrestrained creativity becomes a double-edged sword. Samuel takes up the role of composing his film’s soundtrack, devolving to the point where scenes are slowed down to fit the music in. This coupled with a confusing political narrative devoid of a solid argument results in a puzzling cinematic experience.

As Clarence, Stanfield's acting feels jarring amidst the comedic material, relying too heavily on Stanfield's versatility. Samuel’s demand on Stanfield to carry the narrative's inconsistent tones, visual gags, deep metaphysical questions brings forth an odd amalgamation, lead into a shocking finale, potentially leaving audiences baffled.

As the closing credits roll, one wonders why Samuel chose to explore a narrative about religious conversion itself historically associated with control and erasure. Here's where the bigger question looms - isn’t liberation about the freedom to think without the constraints of stereotype? Samuel's film could have resonated more had it delved deeper into this complexity.