An imposing and impressive lead performance compensates, to some extent, for a clumsily structured script and a supporting cast lacking in charisma in *A Great Awakening*—the new biopic about the 18th-century English preacher who contributed to the American Revolution some of its values and phrases of forward-thinking philosophy—as the film suggests—such as: "All men are created equal."
Jonathan Blair, known for *Found on South Street*, possesses the vocal and physical presence necessary to convey the "rock star" appeal of George Whitefield—an Anglican pastor turned fervent preacher of spiritual revival—who founded the evangelical Christian movement during his preaching tours across Great Britain and the United States, tours that popularized the "Great Awakening" of the 1700s.
Director: Joshua Enck
Writers: Jeff Bender, Jonathan Blair, Joshua Enck
Stars: John Paul Sneed, Jonathan Blair, JT Schaeffer
His figure is evoked by an elderly Benjamin Franklin (played by John Paul Sneed, formerly *Covenant Rider* in the 1990s), as he and his grandson—a printing apprentice named Benjy (JT Schaefer, in his film debut)—rummage through old copies of Franklin’s *Pennsylvania Gazette* during a recess in the fraught and contentious Constitutional Convention of 1787, held in Philadelphia.
Upon discovering Whitefield’s name, writings, and sermons amidst Franklin’s mementos, Benjy hears his grandfather declare: "George Whitefield WAS the Revolution!"
The story then flashes back in time to depict Whitefield’s childhood interest in acting—stemming from his humble, working-class background—as well as the work-study arrangements that enabled him to attend Oxford University, and his encounters with men of faith who instilled in him the belief that, thanks to his voice, he would make an excellent pastor—and an even better "preacher." We witness his growing fervor, his attempts to attain holiness through fasting—in imitation of Christ (“It nearly killed me”)—and his meteoric rise to popularity as a preacher who railed not only against sin, but also against injustice and against the ossified, tedious Anglican liturgy.
He was a marginalized figure—and yet a star—within Anglicanism even before arriving in America. Upon his arrival, his tour was met with a level of hype comparable to that which, decades later, would greet the pop stars of the “British Invasion”; in this context, Franklin—whose mindset was far from Anglican—became his publicity “partner,” selling thousands of newspapers. Franklin, a shrewd journalist and marketing strategist, took it upon himself to inflate the size of the crowds flocking to hear the preacher (in one scene, we see Franklin perform a rough calculation yielding a figure greater than the entire population of Philadelphia). However, the film does a mediocre job of linking this religious figure to the Revolution and to revolutionary thought.
I have been unable to find any reference indicating that Whitefield ever used the phrase “created equal”—a phrase that predates both him and Thomas Jefferson, who immortalized it in the Declaration of Independence.
The screenplay—awkwardly structured (lacking both opening credits and a “title card” to confirm that one is in the right theater)—hints at a complex life, marked by protest against the “dead preachers” of the Anglican Church hierarchy: the life of a man who rebuked the American South for its justification of “slavery” and who, paradoxically, owned slaves to help run an orphanage in Georgia that he himself founded and funded. However—and this is something the film omits—Whitefield subsequently lobbied the authorities in Georgia to legalize, accept, and adopt slavery.
Consequently, the film’s ambiguous agenda comes across as an attempt to shoehorn a religious figure—presenting him as a sort of spiritual "founding father"—into the midst of that land-owning elite of humanists (such as Jefferson) and avowed deists (such as Benjamin Franklin). The film suggests that evangelical fervor not only inspired the revolt but also—thanks to Franklin—drove the subsequent Constitutional Convention.
In his capacity as a preacher—someone who devoted himself fully to ministry among the poor, the incarcerated, and the enslaved—Whitefield would often open his sermons with a "fire and brimstone" tone.
"AWAKE, O sleeper! The Son has Risen!"
For those seeking to justify Christian nationalism, this is likely the most "woke" stance one could reasonably expect from a preacher.
Blair stands out among the cast; however, the ensemble consists of actors who are largely inexperienced before the camera, and this is evident in the final result.
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