In a daring cinematic gamble that’s sparked both intrigue and controversy, The Carpenter’s Son (2025) reimagines the untold teenage years of Jesus Christ as a supernatural horror thriller. Directed by Lotfy Nathan in his English-language debut, the film draws inspiration from the apocryphal Infancy Gospel of Thomas, transforming sacred lore into a chilling tale of doubt, power, and divine terror. Released in theaters on November 14, 2025, by Magnolia Pictures, this low-budget indie has divided critics and audiences, earning a modest 33% on Rotten Tomatoes while cultivating a cult following for its atmospheric dread and provocative premise. Nicolas Cage stars as “The Carpenter” (Joseph), FKA twigs as “The Mother” (Mary), and Noah Jupe as “The Boy” (Jesus), in a story that explores faith’s dark underbelly without naming its holy figures directly.

Set in a remote village in Roman-era Egypt, the plot follows a family in hiding: The Carpenter, a devout but tormented guardian; The Mother, steadfast yet fearful; and their teenage son, The Boy, who begins manifesting mysterious abilities. What starts as subtle miracles—reviving a dead bird, healing wounds—escalates into rebellion as The Boy questions his destiny, influenced by a enigmatic stranger (Isla Johnston) embodying temptation. Supernatural forces descend: plagues, visions, demonic whispers—blurring the line between divine gift and curse. As villagers turn hostile, accusing sorcery, the family faces natural disasters and spiritual warfare, forcing The Carpenter to confront if his son’s power is salvation or damnation.

Nathan, of Coptic Christian heritage, approaches the material with reverence and subversion. “I wanted to humanize doubt—make Jesus relatable through temptation and sin’s potential,” he told interviews. The result is slow-burn horror: No jump scares, but creeping unease via stark desert cinematography, oppressive silence, and symbolic imagery (blood-red skies, shattered idols). Cage delivers a restrained performance—frantic paranoia tempered by paternal love—while twigs embodies quiet devotion, her dancer’s grace conveying unspoken fear. Jupe shines as The Boy, his wide-eyed innocence twisting into defiant menace.

Critics are polarized. The Hollywood Reporter praised its “unshakeable images of divine-demonic war,” but The Guardian called it “dull and miscast,” Cage’s intensity clashing with the tone. Religious groups decry blasphemy (banned in Philippines), yet others applaud the exploration of faith’s complexity. At 94 minutes, it’s concise but dense—lingering on moral ambiguity rather than resolution.

The Carpenter’s Son isn’t for casual viewers; it’s provocative art challenging sacred narratives through horror’s lens. In a year of genre experiments, Nathan’s vision stands out—bold, unsettling, unforgettable. Whether masterpiece or misfire, it demands discussion: What if divinity’s dawn was terrifying?