The Book of Clarence: This strange biblical comedy isn’t a patch on Life of Brian

Having made his debut with an all-black Western (The Harder They Fall), writer-director Jeymes Samuel, who is the brother of musician Seal, turns his sights to the Bible in The Book of Clarence. The film, co-producer by Jay-Z, is partly a comedy, but a pretty strange one; it has a muddled earnestness that’s antithetical to satire. It’s not altogether surprising, if a little sad, that it was a big flop in America this spring.

Expecting a black Life of Brian only gets you in the door – while that might function vaguely as the pitch, it’s not the point of it at all. If we’re levelling with Samuel’s ambitions here, the trouble is not that it misfires, but plucks an assortment of stray targets you can barely make out.

We follow Clarence (LaKeith Stanfield), a stoner in Jerusalem in AD 33. The city has an all-black civilian population, with the sole exception of a soot-covered beggar, played in a goofy five-minute cameo by Benedict Cumberbatch. On the lookout for suspicious prophets, the Romans are all smug bullies cast with Brits, such as James McAvoy, chomping through his not-great dialogue as a blustery Pontius Pilate.

Clarence is deeply agnostic, unlike his twin brother Thomas, who’s one of the Apostles – here, a dozen self-righteous hotshots (including Micheal Ward as a fierce Judas). The only miracle he respects, as a “seller of ungodly herbs”, is what weed can do: we see him and his friends levitate, in a cool effects shot, when they smoke it through a hookah.

Stanfield’s dropout charisma can cushion a role fine, but can’t make this one very interesting. The film wants Clarence to believe in something bigger, but he takes his time: when he shows any curiosity about Jesus Christ, it’s to learn the tricks of the messianic trade so he can make some money. Beyond being a mumbling refusenik, you wish this antihero was more of a caustic comedian – and also that the clowning of his sidekick Elijah (RJ Cyler) made for funnier scenes.

Not forgetting the likes of Ben-Hur, Samuel flicks a switch occasionally to give us an action set-piece – a chariot-race against Mary Magdalene, of all people, or a more sensible stint of gladiatorial combat against Barabbas (Omar Sy). These feel like lunges to entertain an audience that might otherwise feel a bit lost.

The film’s worst enemy is its perfectly accomplished score, by Samuel himself – a lush pastiche of swords-and-sandals bombast, with psychedelic soul riffs and full chorus (featuring Jay-Z and Doja Cat). Whenever it surges in, The Book of Clarence sounds like it’s straining to be a musical while lacking the nerve for any on-screen singing. The storytelling, awkward enough without it, hardly needed any further cues for an existential crisis.

15, cert, 129 min. In cinemas from Friday