INT. EASTERN ORTHODOX CATHEDRAL — DUSK
Golden light filters through stained glass. Incense floats like fog. DONALD TRUMP, PATRICK BATEMAN, and BISHOP MARI MARI EMMANUEL sit beneath an icon of Christ Pantocrator. Bateman is in a pristine designer suit. Trump has his classic red tie. Bishop Mari Mari Emmanuel, robed and calm, holds a Bible.
BATEMAN
(holding up a worn leather Bible)
Psalm 45:2 — “You are the most handsome of the sons of men; grace is poured upon your lips.”
I mean… that’s obviously Brad Pitt. Maybe Tom Cruise. Those cheekbones. That symmetry. It’s divine geometry.
TRUMP
(in agreement)
Look, Brad Pitt—fantastic face. Cruise—very high energy. Great stunts. Both very marketable. You put either one on a poster? Boom. Problem solved in ninety minutes. Maybe with popcorn.
BISHOP MARI MARI EMMANUEL
(firmly, eyes steady)
My brothers, the beauty spoken of in Psalm 45 is not carnal—it is not of Hollywood. It is the beauty of holiness. The grace upon His lips is the Word of God. The Messiah’s face was likely sun-worn, marked by suffering. Not filtered. Not airbrushed.
BATEMAN
(skeptical, smirking)
Sure, Bishop. But let’s be honest… no one wants a messy savior on a movie poster. You need symmetry. Market trust. Think Interview with the Messiah. Brad Pitt walks on water, Cruise calms the storm.
TRUMP
(laughing)
Exactly. We could easily reboot the Gospels. Four films. Big budgets. Jesus rides a Harley into Jerusalem. Nobody’s getting crucified without a real fight. We make Golgotha great again.
BISHOP MARI MARI EMMANUEL
(sighs, gently closes his Bible)
You do not understand the cross. The beauty of Christ was in His humility. He conquered not with charisma, but with obedience. Not by leaping off rooftops, but by enduring the grave.
BATEMAN
(sipping espresso)
Okay, but… could humility test well with 18-34 males?
TRUMP
(suddenly serious)
Maybe we should do a casting call. Get Mel Gibson involved. I always said The Passion was a little too bloody. We need cleaner branding. Inspirational suffering.
BISHOP MARI MARI EMMANUEL
(softly)
Beware of making idols out of men. The Christ is not a brand. He is the Lamb slain. Not a box office savior, but the suffering servant.
BATEMAN
(glancing at Trump)
So… not Brad Pitt then?
TRUMP
(sighs)
Maybe… maybe Jim Caviezel with better lighting.
The icon above flickers in the candlelight. Christ stares forward, unchanged.
Well, we have to end apartheid for one. And slow down the nuclear arms race, stop terrorism and world hunger. We have to provide food and shelter for the homeless, and oppose racial discrimination and promote civil rights, while also promoting equal rights for women. We have to encourage a return to traditional moral values. Most importantly, we have to promote general social concern and less materialism in young people.
INT. LUXURY PENTHOUSE — NIGHT
A wall of glass reveals the Manhattan skyline. Low jazz hums in the background. PATRICK BATEMAN pours a scotch. DONALD TRUMP scrolls through Truth Social. The lights flicker, and a glowing figure in a dusty robe steps through the door — it’s CHRIST. Not movie star beautiful. Weathered. Eyes like time itself.
BATEMAN
(doesn’t flinch)
So… you finally show up.
Two thousand years.
Tom Cruise takes two hours max — and that includes credits.
TRUMP
(looking up)
Yeah, no offense, but the pacing on this whole salvation thing? Not great.
Tom runs faster. And he runs. People love that.
CHRIST
(voice calm, eternal)
The world does not heal in two hours, Patrick.
You want quick endings. I offer eternal beginnings.
BATEMAN
(ice clinks in glass)
Right. Eternal.
You know what happened after 9/11?
I shorted airline stocks. Made a killing.
But my office was in the South Tower. Gone.
My brand — Bateman Strategic — incinerated.
Grace didn’t pour down, just ash.
CHRIST
I wept for that day, as I have wept for every soul lost in violence.
But I did not stop time. I walked with those who fell.
And I rebuild not towers, but hearts.
TRUMP
Okay, sure, but no one votes for heartbreak.
You need a win.
You come back after two millennia with no miracles, no lightning bolts, just… sandals?
I had more costume changes in The Apprentice.
BATEMAN
Where were you when I was screaming inside my Lexus with the stereo blasting Huey Lewis and the News trying to feel anything?
CHRIST
I was there in your silence.
When the music stopped and you finally listened.
You just didn’t want Me yet.
BATEMAN
(ironic)
So what, you’re going to save me now?
My soul’s a hostile takeover.
CHRIST
I already paid the price.
I’ve just been waiting for you to accept the offer.
TRUMP
(snorts)
Still sounds like bad business.
No timeline. No guarantee. No wall.
CHRIST
(slight smile)
The kingdom I offer is not built by men.
It can’t be stormed or sold.
Only entered…
by love.
BATEMAN
(quiet now, staring into his drink)
I’ve spent my whole life selling masks.
Do you know what it’s like when you are the brand, and still feel fake?
CHRIST
Yes.
They dressed Me up as a king… and nailed Me to a cross.
The room falls silent. For a moment, even the city outside seems to pause. No sirens. No horns. Just… presence.
TRUMP
(leans back, muttering)
Maybe we give You one shot.
You, me, Bateman.
Pitch the Second Coming.
Make the world watch. Prime time. Super Bowl halftime?
CHRIST
(smiling gently)
You’ve already seen it.
You just didn’t recognize the moment… because it wasn’t on a screen.
The lights flicker once more, and He is gone.
BATEMAN
(swallows hard)
I don’t know if I just met God or lost my mind.
TRUMP
(shrugging)
Either way, great ratings.
INT. TRUMP TOWER — GOLDEN SUITE — DAY
Plush chairs. Bottled water from glaciers. DONALD TRUMP sits beside PATRICK BATEMAN, flipping through a glossy branding deck. Across from them sits JIM CAVIEZEL as CHRIST — not acting. It’s Him. The real deal, back in the flesh, still bearing the scars but radiant in a white linen suit.
TRUMP
Alright Jim… or should I say — Jesus.
Let’s cut to it.
You’ve got the look. The gravitas. The eyes that say “I’ve seen the cross and came back better.”
But we need reach. Mass-market appeal.
So here’s the deal:
Would you consider doing a cigarette endorsement? Like Brad Pitt. Cool, vintage, dangerous. But holy.
CHRIST (CAVIEZEL)
(quiet, almost amused)
Brad Pitt plays the part.
I carried the weight.
You want me to endorse poison?
TRUMP
Not poison. Mystique.
Something rugged. Picture this:
You, robe flowing in the wind, lighting up under a fig tree. Tagline: “He died for your sins… but lived for your smokes.”
Camel or maybe American Spirit. It’s spiritual.
BATEMAN
(staring at Caviezel like he’s a mirror)
You’ve got the perfect pain face.
Anguish with hope behind the eyes.
You’d crush the European market.
But the cigarette angle… it’s about contradiction.
Holy man, dirty habit. That tension sells.
CHRIST (CAVIEZEL)
I didn’t come back to sell contradictions.
I came to heal them.
TRUMP
Yeah yeah, but healing doesn’t test well.
People want grit. Sin. Redemption. And maybe a little nicotine.
We could pitch a line of filtered crosses. Crucifix-shaped lighters.
Big in France, I guarantee it.
CHRIST (CAVIEZEL)
My body was broken, not for branding, but for the broken.
Do not confuse Me with an actor.
I let Jim borrow My story. But I never sold it.
BATEMAN
(half whispering)
That’s why you’re terrifying.
You’re not playing a role.
You’re the only one in the room who isn’t pretending.
TRUMP
Okay, okay, no cigs.
But listen—one endorsement, that’s all I ask.
Real estate? Second Coming Condos? Water-to-wine vineyards? Something tasteful.
CHRIST (CAVIEZEL)
You’re trying to monetize the kingdom of heaven.
But the gates don’t swing for cash. Only for grace.
TRUMP
(grinning)
Yeah, but if grace had a logo, I could sell it.
CHRIST (CAVIEZEL)
It already does. It’s a cross.
You just forgot it wasn’t for decoration.
A long pause. Even Bateman goes quiet, fidgeting with his platinum pen.
BATEMAN
(just above a whisper)
Would you… still die for people like us?
CHRIST (CAVIEZEL)
(softly)
I already did.
The question is — will you live for something greater?
He stands. Light halos his shoulders, subtle but undeniable.
TRUMP
(as Christ walks to the door)
Just think about it, alright?
We could put your face on a lunchbox.
CHRIST (CAVIEZEL)
Only if it comes with the bread of life.
He walks out. Silence.
BATEMAN
(staring out the window)
That man didn’t blink once.
And I think He saw every sin I’ve ever hidden.
TRUMP
(quietly, for once)
Yeah… but He didn’t flinch.
Not even a little.
Cue the faint sound of wind… or was it wings?