Bonhoeffer on the Big Screen —But Have We Missed the Real Story?

Bonhoeffer on the Big Screen —But Have We Missed the Real Story?

Bonhoeffer goes to Hollywood

Dietrich Bonhoeffer isn’t exactly a household name — and yet his story is one of the most remarkable of the 20th century. And now's a good time to brush up on the guy, because his life has just been turned into a somewhat controversial feature film, written and directed by one of the screenwriters of Elf (yes, really!).

A German pastor and theologian who stood against the Nazi regime and was ultimately executed for his resistance, Bonhoeffer’s life and death (1906-1945) continues to inspire Christians around the world. In 1998 a statue of him was even unveiled by Queen Elizabeth II in London's Westminster Abbey, one of ten 'Modern Martyrs' of the 20th century.

But with this film bringing his story to the big screen, it raises a bigger - and much debated - question: what exactly should we take from his life?

Courage for a Cause

Bonhoeffer: Pastor. Spy. Assassin (to use the full title) is certainly an inspirational biopic - with a number of very moving scenes. I won't spoil the details, but the final minutes, as Bonhoeffer breaks bread and wine with those around him, might be the most powerful depiction of Holy Communion I’ve seen on screen.

Throughout the film Bonhoeffer’s courage is rightly front and centre, as he speaks out against the Nazi regime and the ideological takeover of the Church.

And so as the closing credits roll and Lauren Daigle's Then I Will plays out, I was left considering my own life and ministry. What am I giving my life for? Where is my courage - for something greater than my own comfort and reputation?

Assassin's Creed?

But Todd Komarnicki's film, released by Angel Studios, has also stirred up its fair share of controversy. Sure, you generally expect a historical movie to take some creative liberties. But this Bonhoeffer journeys on a dramatic arc that bends toward the theologian determining to play his part in Hitler's assassination. He's the holy hitman, the driving force behind a plot to take out the Führer himself; the film poster even has him with gun in hand.

And whilst it's likely that Bonhoeffer was certainly aware of the plots to take out Hitler (indeed, his brother-in-law had a key part in those plans), the film pushes this way beyond what we know.

In particular, the movie plays this trajectory off against Bonhoeffer's early ministry. As the Nazis rise to power, Bonhoeffer is given lines like, “I can’t pretend that praying and teaching is enough,” and “My dirty hands are all I have left to offer.” Perhaps his most famous quote—“When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die”—is reworked into a dramatic montage, paired with footage of a fellow conspirator planting a bomb. The implication is clear: Bonhoeffer’s discipleship finds its climax not in submission to Christ, but in violent resistance.

Then comes perhaps the most theologically jarring moment, as he disavows his earlier pacifism, declaring: “I was right... before Hitler.” His student and friend Eberhard Bethge pushes back: “But was Hitler the first evil leader since Scripture?” Bonhoeffer replies, “No. But he’s the first one I can stop.”

It’s powerful cinema. But it flattens the moral complexity of Bonhoeffer’s actual life—and distorts the convictions that gave his resistance its shape and substance.

Beware the “Bonhoeffer Moment”™

Part of the problem is that Bonhoeffer's legend is regularly co-opted for different causes. Everyone sees in him what they want. The right hails him as a hero of resistance. The left claims him as a prophetic voice for justice. And so his name gets dragged into countless causes and calls to action. These days, people even talk about their “Bonhoeffer moment”—a cue for bold, radical, or even violent action for a supposedly sacred cause.

Take Eric Metaxas’s 2010 biography. It’s been strongly criticised by Bonhoeffer’s own family for ignoring historical nuance and turning Bonhoeffer into an American-style culture warrior. Even the actors of this movie issued a statement distancing themselves from any misuse of the film to justify Christian nationalism or violence:

“We distance ourselves from everyone who tries to take this film for [a] narrative to take up arms and harm one another.”

Gavin Ortlund recently spoke of the tension of wanting to be inspired by Bonhoeffer's incredible life, whilst being in danger of co-opting him for our own agendas in the process. He put it well: "we should listen to Bonhoeffer, not use him". That’s the challenge.

Will the Real Bonhoeffer Please Stand Up?

So if we’re not meant to turn Bonhoeffer into a cinematic crusader, what should we take from his life?

You could do a lot worse than go back to his writings, especially his Letters from Prison or his most well known work, Life Together. The latter is littered with gems, but it resists easy categorisation.

But watching the film left me wanting to go back to a lesser-known document, which, whilst referenced in the movie, wasn't actually written by Bonhoeffer himself. If you've not come across it, let me introduce you to the Barmen Declaration.

Back to Barmen

Picture this: it’s 1934 in Germany. Hitler is now Chancellor and has consolidated power. The Nazis are wanting to bring the Protestant Church under state control by centralising all regional churches into a single Reich Church, led by a state-friendly bishop. Within the Church, the 'German Christians' movement are acting like pro-Nazi ideological cheerleaders. The pitch is simple: Jesus + German nationalism + Aryan supremacy. They wanted a version of Christianity that was nationalistic, racially pure, and loyal to the Führer. And it was catching on fast.

So in response, a group of pastors and theologians, describing themselves as the 'Confessing Church' (including, most famously, Karl Barth), gathered in the Western German town of Barmen. And what they wrote was dynamite.

The heart of the document says this:

“Jesus Christ, as he is attested for us in Holy Scripture, is the one Word of God which we have to hear and which we have to trust and obey in life and in death.”
“We reject the false doctrine, as though the Church could and would have to acknowledge as a source of its proclamation, apart from and besides this one Word of God, still other events and powers, figures and truths, as God’s revelation.”

“Jesus is Lord. Not Hitler.”

It couldn't have been clearer in that cultural moment. 'No, Nazis: Jesus is Lord. Not Hitler. Not the state. Not anyone else.'

The Church doesn’t get its marching orders from any government, party, or cultural movement. We're not here to rubber-stamp state agendas. We belong to Christ, and we listen to Him first.

This wasn’t just a theological footnote—it was an act of resistance. Quiet, clear, and costly.

Sitting Under the Word

To put it another way, Barmen was resisting Nazi totalitarianism. That was what the German Christians movement had bought into. For the Nazis' claimed total control over every part of life, religion included.

And though Bonhoeffer was in London at the time, he then returned to Germany soon after and aligned himself with the Confessing Church and Barmen. For him, it was a theological compass.

He knew the Nazi effort to co-opt the Church was ultimately an effort to dethrone Christ. Because once something is added to the Word of God as a co-authority, it inevitably rules over it.

There is no “both/and” when it comes to Jesus. It’s Christ first—or Christ not at all.

Totalitarianism with a Smile

Let’s be clear, we're not living in Nazi Germany, whatever we make of the horrors across our world today. Bonhoeffer’s precise historical moment is gone. But that doesn't mean the pressure to compromise has passed.

Totalitarianism doesn't disappear - it just has makeovers.

My former seminary principal, Mike Ovey, often brought us back to Barmen. Whilst he left us to wisely discern what the different 'false doctrines' (in Barmen's language) of our days may be, he did warn about “totalitarianism with a smiling face”; a world where religious freedom is applauded in theory, but excluded in practice. Where belief is tolerated so long as it is not brought into the public square - unless it already agrees with everything else already there.

That’s the modern squeeze. Not uniforms and flags, but policies and platforms that gently encourage us to make Jesus more agreeable, more marketable, more mild.

And when we do that—even gently, even well-meaningly—we don’t just dilute the gospel. We dethrone the One who gave it.

Weird, Faithful, and Free

To its credit, I felt at times the film does show that the Church isn’t meant to be a cultural mirror or state mascot. We are the bride of Christ—called to be beautifully out of sync with the world and devoted to Jesus. A people about God’s business.

One line in the film actually stuck with me. At one point Bonhoeffer explains his actions by saying, “I made my choice 12 years ago. Even before I fully understood what it meant.” Putting aside the way the film then enfleshes that, there’s something haunting and beautiful in that. Bonhoeffer had already given himself—heart, soul, future—to Christ. And everything that followed, even the agonising choices, flowed from that deeper allegiance.

Or, as the British historian Tom Holland recently exhorted the UK Church:

“Keep Christianity weird. ”

Because it is weird. A crucified Saviour. Loving enemies. Submitting to Scripture. Being willing to lose—reputation, security, comfort—for the sake of faithfulness to Jesus.

Don’t Just Stand Up - Bow Down

I wonder if what made Bonhoeffer’s life especially powerful wasn’t that he & his Barmen band of brothers & sisters stood up to Hitler. It’s that they stood under the Word of God alone - in the name of Jesus Christ alone.

Isn't that what we need too? Not a personalised “Bonhoeffer moment,” tailored to match our favourite issue. But a Church that has a deep, sustained faithfulness to Jesus Christ—crucified, risen, reigning, and speaking still through His Word in the power of His Spirit.

And that’s a message that doesn’t need cinematic drama to feel urgent. Because that’s the voice we still need to hear—in life and in death.