Our Favorite Grace-In-Practice Movies

Lots to choose from in this outstanding and diverse list of films that capture the dynamism of grace that arrives on the scene when it’s not expected (or deserved). [Note: films appear in chronological order]

The Philadelphia Story (1940): Katherine Hepburn, Cary Grant, Jimmy Stewart, and dear old Uncle Willie — really, what more could you want? And don’t forget younger sister Dinah, swanning in and out, the Greek Chorus of it all. The film follows the aptly named Tracy Lord: woman of aristocracy for whom no man is good enough. On the eve of her second wedding, no one seems able to live up to her expectations: her first husband (Dexter), allowing himself to succumb to the siren of drink; her father (Mr. Lord), a distasteful philanderer; her mother, too weak to stop loving her husband, in spite of his sin. Tracy lords above them all, even when Dexter reappears before her wedding, bringing with him a cold dash of sobriety: “You could be the finest woman in the world if you could just learn to have some regard for human frailty. If only you’d slip a little sometime. But I guess that’s hopeless. Your sense of inner divinity won’t allow that.” Ultimately, Tracy does slip from her ivory tower — thanks to a series of comedic moments, champagne, and moonlight — and finds a surprising mercy is there to catch her. — Derrill Hagood McDavid

The Magnificent Ambersons (1942): This is Booth Tarkington via Orson Welles, and is everybody’s “lost masterpiece.” Yet that is not the half of it. A successful and genuinely good middle-aged man and father is able to forgive another person — really two persons, a mother and her son — in the most touching of ways. Oh, and definitely read the ending of the original novel. Welles confessed that Tarkington’s ending “stumped” him, though he did convey its “feeling” on film. But read Tarkington’s ending! — Paul Zahl

The Best Years of Our Lives (1946): Three men from different ranks and branches of the military come home to a triumphant welcome in the same town at the end of World War II. But readjusting is no easy task, not least because each soldier has the physical and psychological scars of war to contend with. In each case, it’s only through the persistent grace of family, loved ones, and each other that they are able to heal. — Ben Self

Ordet (1955): The middle child of a rural Danish family goes off to seminary and comes back thinking he’s Jesus. The family tries their best to carry on, but when the wife of the eldest son dies in childbirth, the question of Jesus’ presence presses on them all with sudden urgency. The camera doesn’t move as the middle child tells the mother to rise, and neither does the viewer, for that matter. When it’s all over, the clocks are ticking, and everyone leaves with a greater appreciation of the grace that God is always putting into practice when our worlds stop spinning. — Ryan Cosgrove

Mary Poppins (1964): I am always struck by the grace in Mary Poppins (the original one) given to a family who is experiencing heavy law. Overly strict nannies cause the children to repeatedly run away, and high demands at work cause Mr. Banks to ignore his family while enjoying an unrealistic sense of control over his work and home life. Mary Poppins changes all of this. I never understood the “feed the birds” part as a kid, but now I realize this advice from Mary Poppins is the catalyst for all the trouble that causes Mr. Banks to lose his job, and for all of the relief after the trouble. When everything is lost and Mary Poppins leaves, there is a renewed relationship between Mr. Banks and his children, and they go fly a kite — the most pointless and unproductive thing anyone could do. Mary Poppins gives the Banks family freedom that comes from losing everything and frivolous fun that accomplishes nothing. — Juliette Alvey

Red Beard (1965): I believe this is John Zahl’s favorite movie of all time, and one can well see why. The story of a young medical student’s utterly permeative personal journey from law to grace is memorable, and moving in the extreme. The director was Akira Kurosawa. (No wonder he experienced a complete nervous breakdown after completing this unique achievement.) — Paul Zahl

Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (1982): It’s not often that pop culture transcends itself into true artistic greatness; I can only think of a handful of instances, but one of these is Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. Much praise is due Ricardo Montalbán, who reportedly took a considerable pay cut to play the Moby Dick-quoting, genetically engineered superhuman who is undisputedly the greatest villain of the Trek universe. The transcendence, however, comes at toward the end of the film when Leonard Nimoy’s Spock sacrifices himself to stop a radiation leak from killing the crew of the Enterprise; he spends his last moments with William Shatner — er, Kirk — encouraging his long-time captain and friend not to grieve: “It is logical,” he claims, that the one should give himself for the many. But as Kirk declares at Spock’s eulogy, there is no more “human” act – there is no greater love — than that a man lay down his life for his friends. Cue Scotty (James Doohan, a real-life Canadian D-Day veteran), playing “Amazing Grace” on the bagpipes. It’s perfect. — David Clay

Tender Mercies (1983): Robert Duvall plays broken-down country singer/alcoholic, Mac Sledge. He ultimately finds redemption in the love of Rosa Lee (Tess Harper) and her child, Sonny, and in the tender mercies of Jesus mediated by Rosa Lee and her church. While a commercial flop, the movie won a couple of Academy Awards, including Best Actor, for Duvall. — Anthony Robinson

The Sacrifice (1986): I believe this was Andrei Tarkovsky’s last movie, and it’s a miracle! A disillusioned husband and artist hears from God directly, and is called to save the world from an atomic war. The last long scene — which had to be filmed twice! — is beyond memorable, i.e., you will never forget it. — Paul Zahl

Babette’s Feast (1987): A refugee, Babette, becomes a cook for two sisters in a strict pietistic protestant village in 19th-century Denmark. Babette dutifully acquiesces to the ascetic lifestyle, but when she wins the lottery, Babette wants to throw a party. The town is scandalized by the prospect, so they agree to accept Babette’s invitation but not to enjoy themselves. As the lavishness of the meal washes over everyone, old wounds are healed and new possibilities are opened. By the end, Babette has shown us that grace isn’t put into practice; grace only happens when love holds nothing back. — Ryan Cosgrove

Prince of Darkness (1987): Part of John Carpenter’s Apocalypse Trilogy, has everything I want out of a movie; science, religion, and Jesus as a space alien. A swirling bottle of green goo, containing the devil, is residing in protective custody — in a church basement. Donald Pleasence, the priest who is now responsible for safeguarding us from gooey Satan, reaches out to a theoretical physicist, played by Victor Wong, to figure out how to keep the world-murdering anti-god contained. Wong brings his students to church to help, and soon all hell breaks loose, literally. There is a beautiful, startling scene of a character launching themselves into total self abnegation, her life for the world’s, which you won’t soon forget. Also, Alice Cooper as a murderous devil zombie in all of Carpenter’s full fledged 80s over-the-top-gore-glory isn’t to be missed. — Joshua Retterer 

Simon Birch (1989): Based on John Irving’s A Prayer for Owen Meany, this is my favorite movie of all time because of the number of moments of mercy, as seen through the lives of two 12-year-old boys. Joe (a bastard) and his best friend Simon (a dwarf) are drawn together by their outsider standing. Joe’s mother, Rebecca (Ashely Judd) refuses to identify Joe’s father, to the shame of her mother, the town’s matriarch. A family tragedy pushes the limits of friendship and forgiveness to a surprising conclusion. — Marilu Thomas

Enchanted April (1991): In which two very nice English ladies who justify themselves by works are flooded with beauty and love during a trip to Italy that transforms all of their relationships, in subtle and surprising ways. — Sarah Hinlicky Wilson

Good Will Hunting (1997): The final therapist in a long line of them for Will (Matt Damon), the late Robin Williams’ Sean Maguire has been battered by grief, but, unlike Will, has faced it and is able to fully feel it. This vulnerability is key to his success with Will, which occurs only through relationship, over the course of their visits. At the end of their time together, Sean tells Will that all the abuse he faced is not his fault. And then he repeats it — over and over — until Will, who initially shrugged off the observation, fully faces it — and, consequently, bears the grief of his own story as the first step to his healing. — Stephanie Phillips

Rivers and Tides (Documentary) (2001): The artist Andy Goldsworthy seems to be quite content with spending his time constructing large-scale artworks with natural materials. A meditation on receiving and cultivating the gifts we are given and letting the rest be, this film flies in the face of utilitarianism / the idea that everything has a purpose. — Janell Downing

School of Rock (2003): The film that made Jack Black a household name stands up twenty years later. The wannabe rock star Dewey Finn cons his way into a substitute teaching gig at a high-strung prep school. Ditching the curriculum, he teaches the students how to be rock stars, freeing them from the crushing expectations of the school, their parents, and themselves. Suspend your disbelief and the film is a parable of the disrupting grace of Jesus in a world of pharisaical treadmills. The best scene: ripping up the poster of merits and demerits to the horror of the class suck-up. — Bryan Jarrell

Pride and Prejudice (2005)/Bridget Jones’ Diary (2001): One of my favorite parts of Jane Austen’s masterpiece is its depiction of the grace found in being wrong. Darcy and Elizabeth are both completely wrong about each other, and though it takes awhile for them to discover this, they end up right where they’re meant to be — with each other. The 2005 film includes a scene with Elizabeth (Keira Knightley) and her father Mr. Bennet (Donald Sutherland) that beautifully brings to life the freedom that can be encountered when we realize, and admit, how wrong we are, and are accepted and loved in return. Sutherland’s “I couldn’t have parted with you, my Lizzie, to anyone less worthy” is a gorgeous depiction of fatherly love, and his sadness in losing her to Mr. Darcy is surpassed only by his joy in seeing her so well-matched. And who can forget, in a much later and looser adaptation, when (Mark) Darcy announces to Bridget that he likes her, very much, just as she is? After a couple of hours of flubbing around like a prize (relatable) idiot, Bridget is finally and fully accepted. — Stephanie Phillips

Gran Torino (2008): Clint Eastwood growls and scowls his way through a story that tackles issues of race, aging, manhood, immigration, economic depression, gang violence, guilt, grief, and widowhood. No small task, of course, but the film is up to the challenge. Eastwood’s lead character Walt is introduced as a voice of law — a racist, crotchety white boomer telling his immigrant Hmong Chinese neighbors to “stay off my lawn.” One simple act of mercy to the thief of his beloved 1972 Gran Torino, however, snowballs into a powerful display of Christlike love. — Bryan Jarrell

Happy-Go-Lucky (2008): Sally Hawkins plays the indefatigably upbeat Poppy Cross, a thirty-year-old elementary school teacher in London. The movie’s about what it’s like to live freely, not taking yourself too seriously, while also paying close attention to/loving those around you in a world where people are frequently taken advantage of (a boy in her class, a homeless man she encounters) or hurt/disappointed but in denial about it, and so try to come up with their own systems (self-justification, sets of rules, etc.) to prevent that from happening again (her terrifying and pitiful driving instructor, her pregnant younger sister), which, of course, they can’t. This is a movie that shows that though living a faithfully receptive life is the only way to really live, it won’t always be easy because doing so will draw the ire of people who can’t loosen their grips on the idol of self-determination. — Joey Goodall 

In Bruges (2008): Martin McDonagh’s debut film about two British gangsters hiding in the medieval Belgian city after a botched hit job is a case study of the arrival of grace on the heels of the cross. Ray is suicidal after accidentally killing a boy in a confessional, and Ken is torn by the task he’s been given: ice his younger colleague for not keeping to their mob boss’s moral code. Since it’s McDonagh writing and directing, grace will arrive in blood and death as one member of the duo offers himself to free the guilty one. There’s no cloyingly pious doling out of mercy here, just stark grace for the undeserving. — Ken Sundet Jones

Moneyball (2011): What initially draws me into this story is how the Oakland A’s, a small market MLB team, works to compete with the big market teams. You might call it the “law” of competition, the high math of figuring out on-base percentages with no-name or washed-up players, and how the main character Billy Beane (Brad Pitt) tirelessly works to create a winning culture with less money. But what keeps me in the story is his relationship with his daughter Casey, who is the epitome of a love that comes to us apart from our successes and failures. The final word of the film is her humorous, yet deeply reassuring song to her dad that includes the line, “You’re such a loser, Dad; just enjoy the show,” which is the song of grace that God sings to strivers and self-justifiers and sinners like me. “You’re loved just because you’re loved; rest in that, and just enjoy the show.” — Christopher Wachter

Flight (2012): Starring Denzel Washington, Flight offers a drama of repentance that is totally true to life. As the forces of judgment push in, the main character pushes back, fighting the Law tooth and nail. It’s only when the Law is removed — in a forensic adjudication (!) before a regulator — that Washington’s character can surrender, with a tantalizing glimpse of the attendant reconciliation and new life that lie on the other side. — William McDavid

Chappie (2015): Although the movie was considered a box office flop, Chappie is one of my favorite Neill Blomkamp films. With his classic South African flavor added, Blomkamp crafts a story as old as Eden. A creator pursues his lost robot creation who is tainted and marred by the world and attempts to show it the path of life. In the end, a form of incarnation might just be the answer. — Blake Nail

Hunt for the Wilderpeople (2016): Two oddballs — a troubled foster kid (Ricky) and a washed up old drunk (Hec) — are begrudgingly brought together for an epic and hilarious adventure in the New Zealand wilderness thanks to Bella, whose unexpected death early in the film sets the adventure in motion. As Hec later muses: “[Bella] wanted to save us poor wretches when no one else wanted us. Like rescue dogs. That’s the way she was. Heart of gold.” — Ben Self

Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018): I’ve always loved Spider-Man, but this is by far my favorite Spider-Man movie. Miles Morales, a teenager in Brooklyn, gets bit by a radioactive spider (duh), but Miles has no idea how to control his powers. This continually becomes an issue in their attempts to defeat the villain, Kingpin, because he is trying so hard to win the approval of his mentors. In a climactic moment, Miles is stuck in his dorm room, his mouth and body bound ironically by his own Spidey-webbing. Miles’ dad comes to the door, and says, “I see this spark in you, it’s amazing … It’s yours, and whatever you choose to do with it, you’ll be great.” Until that scene, I thought this story was about Spider-Man saving Brooklyn from a villain. But it was actually about a father who loved a selfish, clueless, insecure son, who spoke the truth over him, and who extended unconditional love, so that the son could walk freely in the power he had received. — Kate Wartak

Won’t You Be My Neighbor? (2018): I was never a Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood kid growing up. But when my wife convinced me to go see this documentary at the local indie theater, I was converted. I kid you not, I cried no less than 5 times at the overwhelming grace with which Fred Rogers approached his life and ministry — a willingness and devotion to be the unanxious presence, whether it be with kids or adults. Among the highlights are his testimony before Congress in support of PBS funding (particularly the song) and when his message of unconditional love got through to Francios Clemmons. I can’t recommend it enough. — Will Ryan

The Last Laugh (2019): Entertainment agent Al Hart (Chase) is reluctantly touring a retirement community when his ex-client Buddy (Dreyfuss) shows up as the tour guide. Buddy gave up a gig on the Ed Sullivan Show to become a successful Hollywood podiatrist (where nobody walks). He is still very funny, and Al talks him into going on a tour of comedy clubs. The heart of this movie is the question nobody ever asks their parents, “What did you do before you were parents?” as well as, “Why do we hide who we are when we become parents?” The honest relationships in this film are a means of grace for old people and those who love them. — Marilu Thomas

Minari (2020): In this film, a Korean-American family settles in the farmlands of Arkansas, led by patriarch Jacob. Fueled by tenacious hope and the American dream, Jacob desires to have a thriving farm, to provide for his family, and ultimately to prove his worth — to himself, his family, and the world. Behind their farm, minari (a water celery native to Asia) grows beside the creek, silently and abundantly, demanding little attention but flourishing nonetheless, which is only appreciated by their elderly grandmother. One day, their barn is set ablaze, reducing their entire crop to ashes. Jacob finally journeys out to the minari creek. Minari, like grace, is the one thing that Jacob himself did not plant or tend, yet it’s the very thing that saves him. — Kate Wartak

Mass (2021): A masterclass on restorative justice. Grace and mercy abound in this (mostly) four person cast. Gathering a couple years after a school shooting to try to find anything resembling hope. One couple being the parents of the shooter, and the other being the parents of one of the deceased. Tremors of grace are felt through the church choir practicing in another room and the space and breath of the cinematography that holds the characters when they (and you, the viewer) just don’t know the answer to why. — Janell Downing

The Adam Project (2022): No matter how blissful or brutal your childhood was, you likely remember the worst parts most of the time. Imagine that, thanks to time travel, your childhood self can remind you of all the good things too. Science fiction labeled with grace gravy. Also, Jennifer Garner as a tired mom? Yes please. — Sarah Condon

The Holdovers (2023): The title refers primarily to five New England boarding school boys stranded during Christmas break, and secondarily to the unlucky employees who will babysit them (Paul Giamatti plays a sour, arrogant classicist, while a grieving Da’Vine Joy Randolph cooks for them). The characters are splintered off from one another by privilege, race, and generational distance; still, their shared pain as “holdovers” creates unusual bonds, and their shared confinement allow some of the characters to see into one another’s pain and discover one another as people. “Holdovers” is not a bad description of most human groupings, when you think about it — united by too many disappointments to name, yet graciously drawn into inexplicable bonds of friendship. — Larry Parsley

Perfect Days (2023): is a Wim Winders film set in Japan where the main character, Hirayama (Koji Yakusho) is a toilet cleaner, who takes pride in his work maintaining Tokyo’s famous public toilets. His humility and humanity draws a series of lost souls to him. In his simple life and decency they find grace in a world that is full pain and loss. — Anthony Robinson