In its first poorly recorded voice-over, Unplanned’s unnecessary narrator directly warns her audience concerning the film: this will not be easy to watch. This proves to be correct, in all the ways the filmmakers expected and perhaps in other ways that they didn’t.

Unplanned tells the true story of Abby Johnson (Ashley Bratcher), the youngest clinic director in Planned Parenthood history—and herself a two-time abortion “customer”—who has a change of heart regarding abortion and leaves the organization to become a pro-life advocate. The film also highlights Abby’s interactions with Coalition for Life volunteers (Jared Lotz, Emma Elle Roberts) and an antagonistic Planned Parenthood regional director (Robia Scott).

By tackling this admittedly difficult and risky subject matter, Unplanned represents a step forward for “Christian cinema” to some degree, but its few laudable elements are greatly overshadowed by shoddy craftsmanship and ineffective—perhaps even harmful—messaging.

Before I continue this review, I should note up front that I do generally agree with the film’s view of abortion, unlike most of the film’s critics who have panned Unplanned more for its “harsh” message than for its third-rate aesthetics. Unplanned, perhaps unique among Christian films, delivers a message even more repulsive to secular critics than its expectedly amateur craft. Yet, while agreeing with the film concerning the horrors of abortion—I too found myself repulsed by the film. As a pro-life Christian, I still felt chafed in my spirit by this film. I needed to know why. Was it a craft issue, or something deeper?

Premature Resolution

As to craftsmanship, the aesthetics of this film are just as bad as I have (unfortunately) come to expect from “Christian movies.” The usual suspects all appear: poor audio quality and generic production, stilted dialogue, wooden acting, sometimes-sufficient-but-never-exceptional cinematography and editing, and a cringe-inducing soundtrack. The movie also falls into some typical traps of Christian story-telling.

The first trap: Unplanned resolves itself far too neatly. In an early voice-over, Abby says that the film won’t be tied up in a pretty red bow, yet it resolves just as cleanly as any other contemporary Christian film I’ve ever seen. In the end, Abby leaves Planned Parenthood. The Coalition for Life helps her find a new job. Abby’s “charmingly” scrappy and smug lawyer destroys Planned Parenthood in court. The Planned Parenthood clinic closes. Abby, only briefly burdened by the weight of her past actions, finds a quick peace and also reconciles with her parents and husband. There is no lingering conflict.

Furthermore, while the scenes of abortion harrowed me, the film didn’t allow me to fully absorb these unpleasantries—particularly in the case of the first operation, which occurs far too early in the film. Once the scenes have ended, they have little further impact, as the filmmakers don’t give them space to land.

In a strange way, Unplanned, therefore, ends up functioning like a by-the-numbers “feel-good” picture, which does its subject matter a disservice. The end of the film leaves viewers with the “success” of Abby’s conversion, her evil employer’s defeat, and her former clinic’s closure. The viewer is left with these closing ideas and feelings instead of the reality that Abby’s story represents only a small victory in the overall fight to end abortion in America. It doesn’t impart a sense of urgency; it instead, perhaps unwittingly, encourages apathy.

Abby Johnson at a pro-life rally. Image courtesy of Unplanned Film.

Taken in by Craft?

The second trap the film succumbs to, equally common in our age: this film will probably not change anyone’s mind. Its persuasive elements have little verve, marred further by claims that the memoir on which the film is based contains factual errors. (Granted, these arguments amount to nothing more than a he-said-she-said situation, but the scandal nonetheless weakens the credibility of the film’s arguments). At one point in the film, Abby asks why someone in a pregnancy crisis would go to people who wear costumes and show them gross and disturbing pictures. Ironically, this is, in effect, the same strategy employed by Unplanned.

I don’t necessarily disagree with the film’s unflinching depiction of abortion. In fact, the two scenes that portray it are by far the film’s most effective scenes—though the sincerity-corroding score lessens the overall impact. At the end of the day, the argument for or against abortion cannot be purely rational; it is almost entirely an issue of the heart and will. Though science can determine when fetuses have a heartbeat or how late an abortion can be performed without harming the mother, these facts themselves cannot prove what it means to be a human being or what it means to be alive. Some of the greatest (and sometimes also the most deranged) minds in humanity have grappled with these questions throughout all of history. So, I have no problem with the film’s reliance on visceral emotional appeals, and I think the gross and disturbing images of the aborted unborn have an appropriate place in this discussion.

No, my major problems arose with the way the film depicted born and raised human beings, or something like them. To put it bluntly, the key players in Unplanned don’t feel like real people. I will give the film credit for acknowledging that Christians do, in fact, drink alcohol, have sex with their spouses, and watch R-rated movies. Unplanned doesn’t feel totally sanitized, which makes it better than the overwhelming majority of its peers. Otherwise, the characters feel like cardboard cutouts. The laughably one-dimensional antagonist operates under motivations so ludicrous, one finds it hard to believe she poses any real threat outside the cartoonish world of the film. Abby’s husband, the other employees at the clinic, the Coalition for Life volunteers, and the rest of the supporting cast have little to do besides recite cliché pro-life/pro-choice talking points or provide poorly executed “comic relief” in a story that would have fared better without it.

Have You Seen Abby Johnson?

Further complicating this problem of characterization, the filmmakers regularly undermine the power of Abby’s various turns with half-baked motivations and superficial, dialogue-driven expositions. The abortion that changes Abby’s mind occurs in the first five or so minutes before you have any idea who she is or why she does it. The film flashes back to when she’s “converted” to the cause of Planned Parenthood as a college freshman, and her nonchalant resistance-then-acceptance of Planned Parenthood’s talking points as an unpaid volunteer holds little power to explain how Abby ends up running a clinic. What happened in between to make her like this? In the aftermath of both of her abortions, she’s filled with regret and pain and even anger with Planned Parenthood’s inhuman lack of care for her. How could someone who has felt these things want to run a clinic? When she becomes Planned Parenthood’s youngest clinic director, her success and pride in her work make little sense. When she “turns from her wicked ways” in the end (well, actually the beginning), it feels like she must never have gone all-in for the cause. After she leaves Planned Parenthood, she only briefly (and inconsequentially) grapples with the reality of her complicity in the deaths of countless children.

The scenes of Abby’s resolve do not harmonize with the scenes of her remorse. I don’t see a believable progression from “successful abortion salesperson” to “successful pro-life advocate.” I understand that God converts sinners, so Abby’s real-life change of heart was miraculous and supernatural. But I have seen real people both before and after conversion. They exist. And the film simply does not give us a believable character leading up to or following after her conversion. If the filmmakers were trying to depict a cognitive dissonance within Abby, they failed. A truly conflicted character would have been compelling. Instead, she feels inconsistent. At best, this reads as hypocritical. At worst, it reads as the filmmakers trying to sugar-coat Abby’s former hardness of heart while exaggerating the malice or indifference of others at Planned Parenthood. The former is unfortunate; the latter is disingenuous and manipulative.

Abby Johnson after her second abortion. Image courtesy of Unplanned Film.

Is Unplanned an Impossible Movie to Make?

At this point, it’s worth asking: Is Unplanned an impossible film to make? Can a film successfully address a controversial topic that’s rooted in will and emotion instead of science and reason? Can such a film bluntly and unflinchingly deliver its message without feeling manipulative and one-dimensional? Can such a film be based on a true story, on the memoir of its protagonist? Am I being too critical of this film?

I might be inclined to temper my criticisms if I hadn’t already seen another film accomplish similar goals much more effectively only last year: Spike Lee’s BlacKkKlansman. Like Unplanned, Lee’s style and delivery are likely to be initially off-putting. There’s no mistaking his primary message as a stunning dolly shot zooms from the world of the film to real-world news footage of the Charlottesville riots, tying the racism of the past to the current presidential administration. However, BlacKkKlansman succeeds in the two major areas where Unplanned fails and makes one especially significant improvement on the formula of the latter.

First—and rather obviously due to the very nature of the ending—BlacKkKlansman doesn’t have a clean resolution to its emotional themes. It ties its plot threads up very nicely, but the viewer still leaves the film with the unsettled feeling that our present reality differs little from the circumstances and attitudes in the film.

Second, the characters in BlacKkKlansman feel believable. Though some of the Klan members feel particularly cartoonish, this is in keeping with direct accounts from Ron Stallworth’s (uncontested) memoir, which stated that these people’s racism often crossed into absurdity. The film unflinchingly presents the vile hatred of racists, including their incredibly putrid and uncomfortable language. Its world feels true and consistent, albeit rife with conflict.

Lastly, BlacKkKlansman has an x-factor that is unfortunately and completely absent from Unplanned: subtext. The former is indeed primarily about how the racism of yesterday still permeates today. But it also introduces the idea that racism also harms legitimate ethnic heritage amongst white people and challenges a narrow definition of “blackness.” It pushes against the idea that the total deconstruction of current social structures is the only way to accomplish social change. It fosters a hope that change can be brought about from within, and it acknowledges that African-Americans today do have legitimate white allies. Though this nuance might be missed by people who are off-put by Lee’s outspoken disapproval of Trump specifically, BlacKkKlansman paints a complicated picture of race relations in America and considers the effects and conflict outside the immediate events of the plot.

What Could Have Been

Unplanned, however, does not offer such considerations. It would have been so much stronger if it had allowed room for subtext. Imagine if the film touched on how the plot events impacted the employees of the clinic, portrayed as Abby’s best friends. This would have given audience members who disagree with the film’s politics an avatar through which they could engage with the film and perhaps provided some insight as to why people stay with Planned Parenthood, especially as the film portrays the organization as openly corrupt. Imagine if it really considered the strain Abby’s worldview put on her relationships with her husband and family. The filmmakers make some superficial, mostly abandoned, attempts on this front, but to little effect. Why would Abby do something so completely opposed to her parents’ values? Who knows. They also never explore her husband’s motivations for marrying someone with grossly incompatible beliefs.

Imagine if the lasting emotional impact of Abby’s two abortions and many years of work at Planned Parenthood were given more than 90 seconds of screen time. Imagine if the film also touched on the arguments of abortion as being functionally racist, or founder Margaret Sanger’s questionable history, or the ethical concerns of using Down syndrome or other disabilities as the sole justification for an abortion. Granted, you don’t necessarily need subtext to make a good film, but Unplanned feels especially shallow without it considering its topic is far more complex than how it is presented.

Abby Johnson (briefly) grieves her involvement with Planned Parenthood. Image courtesy of Unplanned Film.

As a final note in this section, it should be pointed out that Spike Lee is an accomplished filmmaker at the top of his game. Even those who disagree with him would still recognize his mastery in visual storytelling and screenwriting. An amateur filmmaker couldn’t have made BlacKkKlansman. Perhaps amateur filmmakers shouldn’t have made Unplanned. While I respect their boldness, they probably should have told a different story until they could do this one adequately, which seems at this point too far out of their depth.

Conclusion

Unplanned is a difficult film to discuss. I believe in—and feel very strongly about—its message, but its execution is beyond lackluster. In addition to shoddy production, the writing does a disservice to its message by not creating a sense of urgency or a call to action. Furthermore, the contested factuality of Abby Johnson’s account and the potential revisionism of the film casts distrust on the film’s authority on the topic. Lastly, the film’s cartoonish characterization casts doubt on its veracity, even if its account of events turns out true. If one cannot even believe in the reality of Unplanned’s characters, how could one believe its message?

Therefore, the primary audience of this film will be pro-life Christians who already agree with its message. In light of its lack of persuasive appeal, Unplanned seems to exist merely to congratulate a good Christian’s sense of morality. It could effectively serve as the prayer of the Pharisee in the temple. “God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, or even like this abortion doctor.” If you’re a pro-life Christian who does decide to watch this film, please examine your heart going into it. If you want to see Unplanned because you want wish-fulfillment and ego-stroking, you should stay home instead.

Similarly, if you go to Unplanned to make fun of Christian cinema, you also should stay home. I wanted nothing more than for Unplanned to exceed my expectations and effectively deliver a powerful and important message. That isn’t the film I received, but I held onto that hope until the very end. Furthermore, I must say that I greatly admire the risks the filmmakers took in creating this film and the risks that Pure Flix took in distributing it. They tackled a controversial topic, depicted its evil unflinchingly, and portrayed a (somewhat) more realistic version of average American Christians. In these respects, it is a step forward for Christian cinema. But we’re not there yet.

For more conversation about Christian cinema, check out our articles “How to Improve Christian Movies Without Bigger Budgets” and “Why the Church Needs More ‘Ugly’ Art.”