“Ruth & Boaz,” the 2025 film produced by Tyler Perry and DeVon Franklin and directed by Alanna Brown, offers a contemporary reinterpretation of the biblical love story, adapting its ancient themes of loyalty, redemption, and divine timing to a modern context of Southern Black community life. The film stars Serayah as Ruth, an emerging artist who leaves behind the luxury and grief of Atlanta to care for her late boyfriend's mother, Naomi (Phylicia Rashad), in rural Tennessee, where she meets Boaz (Tyler Lepley), a vineyard owner whose quiet strength proves a counterpoint to his tumultuous past. At its core, “Ruth & Boaz” is a love story steeped in faith, guilt, healing, and the belief that God's plan can bring beauty out of fragility.
The film begins with Ruth Moably navigating the risky world of Atlanta's music industry. Her ambition and talent seem poised to triumph, until tragedy strikes. In a shocking act of revenge orchestrated by her manager, Syrus (James Lee Thomas), her boyfriend, Marlon (Chaundre Hall-Broomfield), is accidentally killed, dragging Naomi's husband, Eli, into the same death spiral. The loss shatters Ruth's world: she is tormented, unable to resume the life she once loved, and guilt drives her to flee.
Director: Alanna Brown
Writers: Michael Elliot, Cory Tynan
Stars: Serayah, Tyler Lepley, Phylicia Rashad
They drag Naomi away from the wreckage of that life, and together they settle in Pegram, a small Tennessee town, ruined but hopeful. One of the film's central dramatic arcs is Ruth's internal tension: she clings to silence rather than confession, hiding from Naomi and Boaz the truth about Syrus's role in the tragedies that brought them all there.
The transition from city to small town is visualized through warm, pastoral imagery and a gentle pace. Cinematographer Michael Negrin frames the rows of vineyards, the golden light, and the rustic houses to underscore the contrast between Ruth's chaotic past and the possibility of a quieter life. Ruth begins working in the vineyard—first in the grape fields, then moving up to more permanent positions—earning the respect of the locals through effort and humility. It is here that Boaz notices her, initially for her diligence, then for her character.
Their courtship is slow and spontaneous: conversation, shared work, and simple rituals like foot-washing and grape-stomping become metaphors for vulnerability and mutual service. In one particularly poignant scene, Boaz introduces Ruth to legendary producer Babyface Edmonds in an effort to foster her musical dreams from a healthier perspective; music becomes the bridge between her old identity and the new life she is building.
However, the narrative tension hinges on what Ruth doesn't say. Because she knows Syrus is guilty of Marlon's death—and, by extension, Naomi's loss—she carries a deep shame that makes relying on love seem dangerous. Boaz, for his part, isn't portrayed as perfect, but as diligent in listening to what Ruth doesn't say. His success as the vineyard owner is never glorified for its own sake; instead, it becomes a counterpoint to the possibility of broken people learning to heal together. Meanwhile, the film uses Naomi as a narrative and moral center: Her pain is deep, her skepticism slow to soften, but when she finally opens her heart, it's a powerful gesture of maternal acceptance and redemption.
The community around them (Pastor Charles, neighbors, friends) gradually bonds, helping to restore Naomi's home and providing emotional support. The final act revolves around Ruth's confession, Boaz's acceptance, and the triumph of their love, symbolized when a fire-damaged bottle of vintage wine, once thought ruined, emerges as the winner in a competition rebranded as "R&B." In the denouement, Ruth resumes her musical career, the couple marries, and Naomi's voiceover frames their story as one of divine timing: "Love doesn't always begin with fireworks; sometimes it rises from the ashes."
One of the film's strengths lies in its cast. Serayah gives a captivating performance, conveying Ruth's inner turmoil, vulnerability, and gradual recovery with subtle emotion. Her presence on camera is magnetic, especially in the musically influenced moments. Lepley's Boaz is quietly strong, often more expressive in silence than in a grandiloquent speech. Phylicia Rashad as Naomi anchors scenes of pain, mistrust, and eventual forgiveness with gravitas.
From a thematic perspective, “Ruth & Boaz” strives to reach a contemporary audience of faith, while still seeking broader appeal. It addresses guilt, trauma, forgiveness, and the question of whether God can use broken lives for something beautiful. The juxtaposition of Ruth’s artistic ambition and the humility required in her recovery resonates with those who know ambition and faith in a fraught negotiation. The film asserts that identity is not found in success or public validation, but in the integrity of relationships and the willingness to trust. In this, it echoes the biblical original: Ruth’s loyalty to Naomi, her perseverance in the gleaning of grain, and her radical trust in Boaz as the bringer of redemption. This reimagining is not a simple change of scene; it reframes the ancient story through the lens of modern race, faith, and healing.
For all its seriousness, the film sometimes struggles to balance its spiritual message with cinematic drama. Viewers seeking more ambiguity or moral complexity may find the narrative too straightforward. But for those seeking a gentle, hopeful faith-based romance, this film will delight. Common Sense Media's review warns that while the film offers positive examples and strong representation, it also contains violence, kissing, alcohol, and some suggestive elements, making it more suitable for ages 13 and up. Regarding the critical consensus, Metacritic has yet to publish a full list of reviews, suggesting that the film's reception is still in the process of solidifying.
Ultimately, "Ruth & Boaz" is a film with sincere intentions, uneven execution, but with an effective emotional punch. It may not redefine the mold of modern religious cinema and may at times rely too heavily on its spiritual message, but its substance is adequate. Serayah and Lepley have mastered their chemistry, the visuals are pleasing, the soundtrack underscores the emotional arcs, and the decision to root the story in contemporary Black religious culture gives it relevance and resonance. For many viewers, it will be a welcome story of second chances, divine timing, and the belief that from the ashes can emerge a love more beautiful than the one lost.
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