Movies about priests are usually one of two things: they're either about a massive scandal or they're about some kind of supernatural exorcism that involves a lot of spinning heads. It is incredibly rare to find a film that just sits with the actual human experience of being a member of the clergy. That’s exactly why The Good Catholic feels so different. It isn’t trying to scare you, and it isn’t trying to tear down the Church. It’s just a story about a guy named Daniel who is trying to figure out if his life choices actually match up with his heart.
Honestly, the setup is pretty simple. Daniel, played by Zachary Spicer, is a young, idealistic priest who loves his job. Or, he thinks he does. He’s dedicated to his small community in Bloomington, Indiana. Then he meets Jane in the confession booth. She’s played by Wrenn Schmidt, and she isn’t there to confess a sin in the traditional sense. She’s there because she’s dying, and she’s got questions that aren't easily answered by a prayer or a Bible verse.
The Good Catholic and the Reality of Doubt
Most religious films treat doubt like a villain. In The Good Catholic, doubt is more like a roommate. It’s just there. Daniel lives in a rectory with two older priests who represent the two ends of the Catholic spectrum. You’ve got Father Victor (Danny Glover), who is the rule-follower. He’s the guy who thinks the structure of the Church is what keeps the world from spinning off its axis. Then you have Father Ollie (John C. McGinley), who is... well, he’s basically a monk who loves candy and doesn't take the bureaucracy too seriously.
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The chemistry between these three men is the heartbeat of the movie. It’s not just a "religious movie." It’s a workplace drama where the workplace happens to be a cathedral. They argue about the "confession" sessions Daniel is having with Jane, which start to happen every Friday night. It's against the rules, obviously. But Daniel is drawn to her because she challenges the script he's been reading from his whole life.
Writing this kind of story is a tightrope walk. If you go too far one way, it feels like an attack on faith. If you go too far the other way, it’s a boring sermon. Director Paul Shoulberg, who actually based some of this on his own father’s life as a former priest, manages to find the middle ground. He doesn't make Jane a "temptress" in the cliché sense. She’s just a person. A person who makes Daniel realize that his vow of celibacy might have been a "yes" to God, but it was also a "no" to a whole world of human connection he didn't fully understand when he was younger.
Why This Movie Isn't Your Typical Faith-Based Film
Let's be real. "Faith-based" cinema has a reputation for being a bit cheesy. Low budgets, stiff acting, and a message that hits you over the head with a mallet. The Good Catholic avoids that by focusing on the nuance.
- The humor is actually funny. John C. McGinley brings that same frantic energy he had in Scrubs, but he grounds it in a weirdly profound wisdom.
- The setting is intimate. Most of the movie takes place in dark rooms, confessional booths, or kitchens. It feels small in a way that makes the internal stakes feel huge.
- The ending doesn't tie everything up in a neat little bow with a choir singing in the background. It leaves you with that slightly uncomfortable feeling that real life usually gives you.
The film was shot entirely in Bloomington, and you can tell. It has that midwestern, collegiate, slightly moody atmosphere that fits the "dark night of the soul" theme perfectly. It’s the kind of movie you watch on a rainy Tuesday when you’re questioning your own career path, regardless of whether or not you've ever stepped foot in a church.
Looking Back at the Legacy of The Good Catholic
When it came out in 2017, it won the Best Narrative Feature at the Santa Barbara International Film Festival. That's not a small feat for an indie film with a niche subject matter. It succeeded because it treated its characters with dignity. Even Father Victor, who could have easily been a one-dimensional antagonist, is given moments of genuine vulnerability. He isn't trying to be mean to Daniel; he’s trying to protect him from the same loneliness he’s felt for forty years.
People often ask if the movie is "pro-Catholic" or "anti-Catholic."
That's the wrong question.
It's a "pro-human" movie. It acknowledges that the structures we build—like the Church—are filled with people who are just as messy as the people outside of them. When Daniel and Jane are talking through the screen of the confessional, they aren't talking about theology. They are talking about what it means to be alive while knowing you’re going to die.
The dialogue is snappy. It’s fast. Spicer and Schmidt have this rhythm that feels like a dance. You find yourself rooting for them, even though you know that for Daniel to choose Jane, he has to lose his entire identity. That’s a heavy price. The film doesn’t shy away from that weight.
Actionable Takeaways for Your Next Movie Night
If you're planning to watch The Good Catholic, or if you've seen it and want something that hits that same specific itch of "thoughtful indie drama," here is how to get the most out of the experience.
- Watch it for the performances, not the dogma. If you go in looking for a theological debate, you’ll be disappointed. If you go in looking for a character study, you’ll be thrilled.
- Pay attention to the lighting. The cinematographer, Justin Montgomery, uses light and shadow to show Daniel’s isolation. The church is often cavernous and cold, while the scenes with Jane feel warm and cluttered.
- Look for the "Ollie-isms." John C. McGinley’s character provides most of the philosophical meat of the film. His advice to Daniel isn't always "holy," but it is always true.
- Check out the director’s other work. Paul Shoulberg has a knack for these kinds of "human-centric" stories. His follow-up, Ms. White Light, also starring Zachary Spicer, deals with similar themes of mortality and connection.
Ultimately, The Good Catholic is a reminder that faith isn't a destination. It’s a process. And sometimes that process involves a lot of cigarettes, some forbidden conversations in a dark booth, and the realization that being a "good" person is a lot more complicated than just following the rules.
To truly appreciate the film's impact, try watching it alongside other modern clergy dramas like First Reformed or the series Midnight Mass. You'll see how Shoulberg’s film takes a much gentler, more conversational approach to the same existential dread. It’s less about the apocalypse and more about the quiet quietness of a life dedicated to a higher power, and the sudden, loud noise that love makes when it interrupts that life.
Stop looking for a film that gives you all the answers. Watch this one instead, because it’s brave enough to ask the right questions and then leave the room so you can think about them yourself.
Next Steps for the Viewer:
First, find the film on streaming platforms like Amazon Prime or Vudu, where it frequently appears in the indie or faith-based categories. After watching, research the production story behind Pigasus Pictures; they are the Indiana-based production company that made the film and are doing some of the most interesting regional filmmaking in the US right now. Reading about Paul Shoulberg’s real-life inspiration for the script adds a significant layer of depth to Daniel's journey that makes the final scenes even more poignant.