It’s hard to decide whether or not to describe Jeff Celentano‘s The Hill as a “faith-based” movie. As my colleague and co-host of our podcast has detailed, the Christian film has evolved (oops) into a genre of its own, one into which The Hill is a seemingly obvious but occasionally awkward fit. Here, for instance, the pious patriarch (Dennis Quaid) turns out to be fallible, a hint of nuance today’s Christian film playbook doesn’t allow. But it’s also a movie that never questions its characters’ Christian faith and is fully straight-faced about how much a part of their lives it is. But, externally, it doesn’t come from the insular world of faith-based production companies and distributors. It’s an indie made and released according to the same methods and practices as secular indies. Still, it’s very clearly being marketed to a church-going audience.
That decision seems to have been made even before the picture was completed. There are clear instances in which the person onscreen is saying a swear word but it’s been dubbed over with something more sanitized. That this bowdlerization happened before the movie was even released indicates that a decision was made at some point late in the game to steer the film toward a certain set of viewers.
Cinematographer Kris Kimlin has a history of working in this world, being a longtime collaborator of Christian filmmakers the Erwin brothers (I Can Only Imagine, I Still Believe, American Underdog). He lends The Hill a familiar but professional look of twinkly summer twilight and crunchy yellow fall leaves. People tend to use the word “Americana” to refer specifically to a troublingly idealized version of white, rural American life. That speaks to a bigger problem with the country’s notion of itself but, on the surface, that ideal is competently executed visually.
Nominally, the star here is Colin Ford, playing real life pro baseball player Rickey Hill, who overcame a degenerative childhood disease to become a slugger. He’s blandly handsome, which is really all the role requires. The meatier role here is reserved for Quaid, the father who believes Rickey’s pursuit of his baseball dreams is a refutation of God’s plan for him to be a preacher. Rounding out the family is Joelle Carter (TV’s Justified) as mom and the always welcome Bonnie Bedelia as grandma. The cherry on top is Scott Glenn as former major leaguer turned scout Red Murff, a name too perfectly baseball to be made up.
Between the childhood leg braces and the parent who just doesn’t understand, Rickey has more than enough adversity to overcome to give The Hill the lightweight inspiration anyone who buys a ticket is signing up for. It stands to reason that, for this film’s intended audience, the narrative and emotional predictability are features, not bugs.
Still, it’s difficult to dismiss The Hill. Part of the hesitation to brand it as faith-based comes from the fact that it lacks the naked cynicism and intellectual dishonesty of many such works. It’s sweet, earnest and honest. That might not be the same as good but it’s a far cry from bad.
