If Ruth and Boaz were to meet today and fall in love, what would it look like?
In Tyler Perry’s retelling, up-and-coming singer Ruth relocates to a small town in Tennessee to care for a widow and escape Atlanta’s music scene. There she crosses paths with Boaz (or “Bo”), a wealthy winery owner and former Marine who’s taken two tours in Afghanistan. As is often the case with the biblical Boaz in sermons, Bible studies, and YouTube videos about dating, on-screen, Bo is depicted as the total package: buff, kind, generous, and handsome with an MBA and a former Wall Street career. And as in the biblical version, love conquers in the end.
Netflix’s Ruth & Boaz is the first faith-based film released under a multiyear partnership between the streaming service, Tyler Perry Studios, and Devon Franklin, a Christian minister and motivational speaker based in California. Cowritten by Mike Elliott (Brown Sugar) and Cory Tynan (Play’d), it’s also the latest in a wave of contemporary biblical dramas garnering attention—though this particular adaptation will likely leave audiences wanting more.
Ruth & Boaz begins with Ruth (Serayah McNeill) and Naomi (Phylicia Rashad) meeting in less-than-ideal circumstances. Naomi’s son has brought his mother to see a performance by his new romantic interest, Ruth, who’s a rising star in Atlanta’s hip-hop scene. But at the show, Ruth’s sexually suggestive dances, revealing outfit, and magenta wig are a turnoff for her boyfriend’s mom. Viewers soon find out that Ruth also doesn’t enjoy the songs. But she’s confined by contractual obligations and discouraged from leaving by her friend Breana, the other member of the fictional musical duo 404.
Ruth and Naomi intersect again after tragedy strikes, killing both Naomi’s husband and her son. Having exited her contract with her producer around the same time, Ruth discovers a dark connection between the men’s deaths and her career. Meanwhile, widowed Naomi finds herself in a precarious financial situation, forcing her to move back to her hometown in Tennessee. She’s accompanied—initially against her wishes—by Ruth. Now in a small town, Ruth finds work picking grapes at Boaz’s vineyard.
Rashad’s depiction of the grieving, angry Naomi is the best performance in the roughly 90-minute film, which, like other Tyler Perry movies, plays on various tropes. The young Ruth is portrayed as a closed-off woman who needs to reopen her heart to love. Because of her past experiences, she starts off distrustful of Boaz and his efforts to get close to her. Her resistance lets up as she learns more about his character.
Boaz (Tyler Lepley), perhaps predictably, has no flaws and, frankly, too many accomplishments even compared to the righteous, wealthy biblical character. When the movie’s Ruth asks him at some point why he isn’t married even though he’s nearly 40, he replies that he’s “married to the vineyard,” a family business he began managing after his father died.
For viewers who know Tyler Perry’s work, the film should feel somewhat familiar. There are theatrical romance scenes (a mansion filled with candles for Ruth and Boaz’s first date); extravagant drama (at some point, the winery is set on fire); and some steaminess (women ogling at shirtless Boaz as he works on Naomi’s home).
Much debate has been had about what the Bible means when it says Ruth “uncovered” Boaz’s feet. In the movie, however, Boaz takes off Ruth’s heels to wash her feet before they tread on some grapes to produce wine. Then they kiss. But Ruth, afraid of how her past might affect the burgeoning relationship, dramatically runs out of his house before they can go any further.
The writing in Ruth & Boaz manages to stay clear of any overly liberal Scripture interpretations (for one, the two lovers don’t have sex before they get married). But I did find the film to be too concerned with how to translate the optics of a woman dating her boss to a modern audience.
Similar to the Bible story, Noami encourages the relationship. Ruth, however, is initially hesitant to embrace spending time with the man who hired her. Boaz is interested in Ruth but also stresses that he doesn’t want to “twist her arm” into anything.
For all the effort it takes trying to force an old story into our modern context of HR and sexual consent norms, the film also chooses not to explore some of the biggest plot points of the biblical narrative (such as the relative who was nearer in line to redeem Ruth).
Still, those familiar with the biblical story are rewarded; they will be more likely to draw conclusions about the characters (Breana = Orpah) and the places (Atlanta’s music scene = Moab) than secular audiences. This subtlety rewards a biblically literate audience in a way that’s perhaps surprising considering some of the film’s clichés.
Ruth & Boaz gives a nod to the fact that God worked in the background to arrange the relationship between its two romantic leads. But without the contextual, historical backdrop surrounding marriage, land, and redemption—without, to some extent, the whole drama of the Old and New Testaments—the core of the original story is obscured. The end result? A feel-good movie about two Christians finding love.
Haleluya Hadero is the Black church editor at Christianity Today.
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