by Tim Gordon
A singer leaves the Atlanta music scene and starts over in small-town Tennessee, where she finds love and new purpose but can’t escape the past.
Producers Tyler Perry and DeVon Franklin bring the story of Ruth & Boaz into the present with a modern retelling of the biblical love story. Directed by Alanna Brown (Trees of Peace) and written by Michael Elliot (Brown Sugar) and Cory Tynan (Play’d), the Netflix film is part of Perry and Franklin’s partnership to spotlight faith-based cinema. Anchored by Serayah as Ruth and Tyler Lepley as Boaz, the film leans into familiar tropes while grounding them in contemporary romance and faith.
The story follows Ruth, a struggling singer performing music that feeds everyone but her soul. After the sudden killing of her boyfriend and his father, she follows her mother-in-law, Naomi (Phylicia Rashad), from Atlanta to Tennessee in search of a fresh start. Ruth finds work at a vineyard owned by Boaz, a man instantly drawn to her quiet strength. As the two grow closer, her healing is complicated by the shadow of her past, including a vengeful producer determined to drag her back into an exploitative contract.
The biblical Book of Ruth tells of a Moabite widow who pledges loyalty to her mother-in-law Naomi after her husband’s death: “Where you go, I will go.” In Bethlehem, Ruth gleans leftover grain in the fields to provide for Naomi, where she meets Boaz, a wealthy relative. Through Ruth’s faithfulness and Boaz’s compassion, their marriage redeems Naomi’s family line and places Ruth in the lineage of King David.
The film honors this core of loyalty, love, and redemption, but adapts the details for modern resonance. Ruth’s move from Atlanta to Tennessee mirrors her biblical namesake’s journey to a new land. The vineyard substitutes for the fields of Bethlehem, keeping the imagery of labor and providence intact. Boaz’s role shifts from “kinsman redeemer,” a culturally specific role in Hebrew law, to that of a compassionate business owner who becomes Ruth’s emotional anchor. The addition of Syrus, the menacing music producer, has no biblical parallel but dramatizes worldly temptation and exploitation. Where scripture emphasizes divine providence, the film sharpens external conflict to keep modern audiences engaged.
Serayah’s Ruth is a wounded spirit, wary of love yet yearning for stability. She conveys both fragility and resilience, embodying the struggle to rebuild after loss. Lepley’s Boaz is straightforward, a protector who sees Ruth’s worth before she does. Rashad grounds the story with gravitas, her Naomi bitterly broken at first but renewed by witnessing Ruth’s redemption.
At its best, Ruth & Boaz captures the timeless message that faith and loyalty can lead to renewal. But unlike the biblical story, where Ruth’s devotion carries generational significance, the film narrows its scope to a more personal romance. The stakes feel smaller and more predictable, even if the chemistry between the leads keeps the story afloat.
The film preserves the soul of the biblical tale, loyalty, redemption, and love arising from grief, but reframes it with melodrama and contemporary obstacles. It doesn’t break new ground, but it offers a faithful, if simplified, reimagining anchored by heartfelt performances.
Grade: C+