'The Chosen: The Last Supper' (Season 5) Review

Dallas Jenkin’s latest installment of the hit show slows the pace down considerably but gives viewers a lot to contemplate, albeit more unevenly than past seasons.

(If you would like to read Nico’s past review of The Chosen you can find it here).

I was disappointed as much as the next guy when I heard that The Chosen’s latest season would not cover the full Passion of Our Lord, but rather focus on only the final week of His life in Jerusalem, culminating with that fateful kiss in the Garden of Gethsemane by His betrayer. However, because I knew that going into my three separate theatrical viewings of The Chosen: The Last Supper (all three parts are available during Holy Week at select theaters if you were curious), that knowledge allowed me to instead enjoy chewing on a smaller portion of Scripture that the show is known for at this point.

Unlike the recent two seasons prior, which were punctuated in their middle and closing acts by famous miracles of Jesus’ ministry (The Miracle of the Loaves/Walking on Water, The Raising of Lazarus, etc.), Season 5 is all build-up, drama, and political intrigue. The Chosen has always been focused on preaching Christ through emphasizing how He changes the lives and perspectives of His “chosen” disciples. In some seasons, Jesus even disappears for multiple episodes or stretches of time within an episode while the Apostles figure out things on their own, applying what they know about Christ and His teachings. Jesus will often come in to resolve tensions and conflicts that arose while He was off-screen. What strikes me about this season is how that dynamic is over. The Apostles and Christ are constantly together and Our Lord is shown to be relentlessly cramming in as much teaching as possible to prepare them for His imminent Passion.

As you could guess by the subtitle The Last Supper, the entire season is structured around the Last Supper, including the Gospel of John’s sublime Last Supper Discourse, which turns out to be the thematic glue of everything. I will have to double check again after the Season drops on streaming platforms if the whole Discourse is included, but it certainly felt like the vast majority of it made it in since every episode begins with an extended “chunk” of the text performed by Jonathan Roumie’s Jesus in the Upper Room in the form of a flash-forward. I can’t recall if Jesus’ entire Priestly Prayer to the Father is included, however, I’m pretty sure I remember that part of the Discourse is depicted inaudibly whispered by Jesus while St. John overhears the words and the other Apostles sing a hymn. This narrative device of framing the season around the Last Supper is powerful and truly the backbone of the whole season. Looking back, I don’t see how better Jenkin’s could have incorporated so much of the Last Supper Discourse, and if the whole season was justified as an excuse to not rush portraying it: it would’ve been enough.

Aside from this Last Supper throughline, the other organizing principle of the season is its three act structure. The first two episodes focus on Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, Gentile characters (who serve as stand-ins for the average viewer) navigating how the Temple’s sacrificial system and financial system worked, and climaxing with Jesus cleansing the Temple. The middle three episodes of the season sort of stew in the aftermath of the controversy that Jesus’ actions during the Cleansing caused among the religious and political leaders. The spiritual confusion this sets off among the Apostles gets treatment here as well, and we see the fiery sermon Jesus preached on the Temple grounds where He directly condemns the Pharisees, Scribes, and Sadducees as hypocrites. Pilate, Herod, and Caiaphas scheme and plot in the background with ample context for the motivations that will drive their notorious actions in the next season. The final three episodes slow down even more and shift the focus to the Apostles and focus on their lives before they met or when they first met Jesus. Some apostles whose “origin stories” were not told (like James the Less “Little James” and Judas “Thad” Thaddeus) are finally shown and others like Matthew and Thomas are revisited and given a little more development. The final episode is completely devoted to the Garden of Gethsemane. I have a feeling that more ink will be spilled discussing this part of the season than anything else in the show. But I’ll save that for the spoilers portion of this review.

Suffice it to say, the standout moments of this season are the Cleansing of the Temple with its intense, deliciously dark, and foreboding energy. I’ll say more about Roumie’s acting of Jesus during this season (which had stronger and weaker moments), but, hands-down, the Cleansing of the Temple captured the righteous anger and holy fear of this event perfectly. The whip that Jesus uses feels menacingly long and the money-changers are utterly terrified. The crack of the whip electrified the theater and the musical score during this scene created a sense of dread that almost felt like a horror film (trust me it works). Somehow Jesus comes off as a threat without actually harming people. The Apostles themselves struggle to reconcile their conception of the non-violent rabbi with the aggression they see. A perfect balance is struck here, and I already plan to rewatch that scene a lot in the coming years.

Now, I am of the opinion that Roumie’s acting of Jesus in this season was less consistent than usual and I don’t think he always balanced Jesus’ emotions during this period of Our Lord’s life as well as he usually does. Perhaps this could be a fault of the writing, because Jenkin’s seems to insert more moments of Jesus’ emotional vulnerability into more moments and extra-biblical scenes in such a way that Jesus seems to be breaking down into trembling and crying a little too often for my taste. When it’s warranted (and demanded) by the biblical account, it’s perfectly fine. Jesus weeping over Jerusalem not recognizing the time of its visitation? Great. Jesus filled with dread in the Garden of Gethsemane? Awesome.

Other times, I think it made Jesus seem less stable than is fitting for the One that saved His most intense moments of feeling for specific reasons (e.g. Lazarus’ death) and not just any random moment where He goes from preaching with confidence to just suddenly being beside Himself with sorrow. In some ways, it made Jesus seem less relatable because the average person usually compartmentalizes their sorrow and reveals it sparingly at an appropriate time, instead of just letting it all out whenever. At least the Apostles are shown to be struggling to accompany Our Lord at this time (perhaps the same way the viewer is). Jesus is literally their “hero,” so it is intentionally unsettling how they are forced to really reckon with the emotions of His suffering heart this season and cannot just lean on Him as a steady presence to comfort their sorrows as in the past. I’ll let you be the judge if this artistic choice to depict Jesus’ sorrowful humanity suits your piety!

SPOILERS AHEAD!

This season also gives a lot of space to Judas’ interiority leading up to his betrayal. Oftentimes, his disapproving gaze over Jesus’ challenging of Temple authorities and his feverish preaching against the scribes and Pharisees truly causes him to consider whether he and Jesus truly want the same things. Judas clearly desires the consolidation of the Jewish Nation into a grand army, the overthrow of Rome, and the earthly manifestation of a new Davidic kingdom where the Apostles reign over Israel on their promised thrones at Jesus’ side. Judas struggles with accepting the humble discipleship Jesus asks of him for the time and restlessly tries to convince Jesus to use His miraculous powers to silence His enemies and usher in the Messianic Reign. It’s so good that the series highlights how aware Judas is of Jesus’ power. For me, growing up as a kid, Judas’ betrayal often felt inexplicable. How could an Apostle who performed miracles in Jesus’ Name and saw Him raise the dead shortly before, turn on Him for thirty pieces of silver? Judas in The Chosen: The Last Supper never actually rejects that Jesus’ is the Messiah. He knows that Jesus is. In words taken from the mouth of the show’s Judas, he had already “seen too much.” So why, Caiaphas asks of him incredulously, does Judas intend to hand Jesus over? “Because,” Judas responds, “perhaps, I have not seen enough.”

Judas goes on to explain that it is not so much whether he personally believes Jesus is the Messiah (he does), but that he thinks he can force the hand of Jesus to “act sooner” in manifesting those powers to all. According to The Chosen, Judas makes a gamble that if Jesus is truly the Messiah, and not just a false prophet, then when Caiaphas and his goons try to kill Him, Jesus will “have no choice” but to defend Himself miraculously and show forth His divine sonship in an undeniable way. All of the Jewish Nation will follow Him. Rome will not stand a chance. And Judas will be a filthy rich governor in Christ’s new Messianic Administration. But if Jesus fails to do that, and is rather soundly defeated (proving He was never the Messiah He claimed to be) then Judas is at peace knowing he betrayed someone who was not worth his allegiance anyway. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a more convincing explanation of Judas’ motives. I loved it.

Scripture tells us “Satan entered” into the heart of Judas before he sinned, but it doesn’t tell us explicitly how. The Chosen gives a plausible way that could have happened through exposing Judas’ lack of supernatural faith, and his comparatively greater trust in earthly craft, riches, and cunning, dressed up as a false piety that effectively masks his rapacious appetite for wealth, power, and glory. How many prosperity Gospel peddlers tear wealth from pliant believers to buy private jets “for the Kingdom” even now? Truly, anyone can justify just about anything selfish if they can somehow talk themselves into thinking it’s for the Kingdom, when it’s truly for themselves. You can hear it in how Judas even introduces himself to the High Priest saying: “Before I give Him over to you, I want you to know: you and I are not the same. I am not like you. I actually believe He is the Messiah.” In a few words, Jenkin’s captures the deluded self-deception of Isacriot perfectly. Just as the Pharisees think they are holier than other Jews due to their vacuous piety and positions of authority, Judas uses his mere status as an apostle to look down upon other sinners as if that makes him better as well. Ironically, that makes him exactly the same kind of hypocrite they are.

Before I get to the most spoilery part of this spoiler section (the Garden of Gethsemane), I want to make honorable mention of some great supporting performances. The last stretch of the season, while it was a dialogue heavy slog at times, somehow did a great justice to the Apostles Jude and James the Less. In the “canon” of The Chosen’s own internal “lore,” these Apostles are shown to be Jesus’ first apostles, called before any of the rest. Before Jesus did any major miracles, they trusted in Him and followed Him without much to “go off of” to establish Jesus’ credibility. James the Less, who in the show has a debilitating limp since birth, is revealed in a Season 5 flashback to have been rejected from the Temple’s Levitical choir because his disability violated interpretations of ritual purity laws requiring singers “without blemish.” James follows Jesus after Our Lord finds him homeless outside Jerusalem, offering to sit in the cold with him, light a fire for him, and “hear his story.” Jude is shown to meet Jesus as a fellow craftsman working together on a nondescript job building a latrine. Jesus calls to his sense of adventure to use his skills “to build a lasting kingdom not made of stones and perishable materials like wood.” This “Calling of St. Jude” will forever be etched dearly in my memory as a stand-out piece of writing for the way Jesus “pitches” costly discipleship that mirrors what every Christian is called to. No frills, no miracles, but, rather, a life of love, sacrifice, plus the promise of heavenly reward.

The Apostle John, as I alluded to earlier, finally steps into his role as “the Disciple whom Jesus loved.” Subtly, Jenkin’s keeps John physically closer to Jesus in more scenes and depicts intimate conversations between Our Lord and His Beloved Disciple that leave a tender impression that their closeness is growing. In a true act of fraternal affection, John even kisses Christ on the cheek (a reverse-mirror of Judas) just before He weeps over Jerusalem’s faithlessness. John says to his Master without any reservation: “I love you, Rabbi.” To which Jesus responds, “I love you too, John.” It almost has the feeling of a Father-Son relationship, which makes it all the more touching.

[***A side note: There’s a weird joke(?) surrounding the Apostle John and his ritual purity to enter the Temple in Episode Two (I think). It raised some red flags for me, but the joke didn’t seem to land anyway or just went over the heads of the audience entirely at the theater. There’s two plausible interpretations of the joke, one more defensible, one less defensible. Unless you’re really paying attention, you might miss it, so I won’t give my thoughts on that minor point, but nevertheless, I wasn’t fan of what that joke might have been suggesting about the Apostle—and even if it was actually “going there,” I’m not happy that the subject matter of the joke was played for laughs.]

Finally, Peter’s story beats (as always) are flawlessly executed. I continue to believe that Shahar Isaac’s Simon Peter is the best character in the whole show played by the strongest actor of the cast. I felt myself groaning with visceral commiseration when Jesus informed Peter of his fast-approaching denial. Shahar Isaac acts out such a heartbroken reaction, especially when Jesus calls him “Simon” again at the Last Supper and says: “Satan has desired to sift you like wheat, but I have prayed for you specifically that your faith not fail, and when you have turned again strengthen your brothers.” (Catholics should celebrate the inclusion here of that word “specifically,” emphasizing the uniqueness of the Apostle Peter and his unique ministry among the apostles as leader, since it highlights the singular form of “you” Jesus uses in the Greek text after he shifts from plural “you” to refer to the rest of the Apostles). Peter forcefully rejects the characterization of his fidelity, “No, Lord I will never reject you. I would rather die!” The way Shahar’s eyes seem to sear with passionate love as he says those words is enough to break everyone’s heart. We’ve all been there as sinners. On a lighter note, Peter is not without refreshing comedic beats in a heavy narrative like this. Throughout the week of Passover, Peter makes fledgling attempts to start preaching more on his own, but he butchers Jesus’ parables and mangles the delivery. The theater laughed watching simple fisherman struggle to be as charismatic and clear as Jesus was. And when Peter tries to stop Jesus from washing his feet, John can barely contain himself: “Can you just do what He says for once?” Moments of levity like this were surely a highlight.

I’ll say briefly that I think the political conversations between Herod, Pilate, and Caiaphas, and the Sanhedrin were extremely helpful for viewers without a lot of historical background to understand the power dynamics of the time. I just think there were too many of these conversations. Jenkin’s kept bringing us back to the same conversation told in different ways: Jesus is a threat. How do we deal with this? We don’t want problems with Rome! Let’s avoid a riot. After enough of these conversations, I was kind of like: Okay we get it. Please move on!

But now let’s move on to the crown achievement of the whole season: the Garden of Gethsemane scene. There’s probably going to be a lot of buzz and discussion about the artistic choices that were made in this scene, but here we go:

You know the main components of the Garden scene from Scripture (they are all there in The Chosen to be sure). But on top of those purely scriptural components, Dallas Jenkin’s has Jesus experience three consolations in the Garden corresponding to His three attempts at prayer. No doubt the inspiration for this comes from a verse that finds its way into many translations of the Gospel of Luke’s account of the Garden scene:

“And there appeared to him an angel from heaven, strengthening him. And being in an agony he prayed more earnestly” (Luke 22:43).

The Chosen doesn’t show an angelic being coming to comfort Jesus, but rather, in that older sense of “angel” that just means “messenger,” it shows Jesus being comforted first by a vision of Abraham and Isaac just before the attempted sacrifice on Mt. Moriah. Jesus knows He must imitate Abraham’s blind faith in the Resurrection (c.f. Hebrews 11:17-19), only this time, the Father will have to actually deliver on that promise of Resurrection. This vision is followed thereafter by Jesus entering into a prophetic encounter with Ezekiel in the famous valley of bones, where the show has Jesus fulfilling the manifestation of God to Ezekiel by Himself asking Ezekiel, “Son of man, can these bones live?” To which the prophet replies, “O Lord, only you know!” The final consolation, and perhaps the most surprising (and extremely moving from a Catholic perspective) was when St. Joseph (i.e. Jesus’ earthly father figure) appears to Jesus as a kind of physical stand-in for Jesus’ heavenly Father saying only these brief words: “I’ll be waiting for you.” The two sons of David embraced across heaven and earth in the Garden, and I nearly lost my Catholic mind. By a crazy act of Providence, Dallas Jenkin’s has somehow nailed the intimacy of the Holy Family and their importance to Jesus throughout this entire show. Bravo.

These mystical interludes allowed for the “passage of time” to occur narratively and capture the all-night vigil in a way The Passion of the Christ had no time to do. In some ways, I wish the consolations had more time to breathe given how powerful in such a brief time they were.

I am debating about coming out of the theater is how much consoled Jesus was for the majority of the agony. The Chosen: The Last Supper only really shows him truly suffering feverishly right at the start of the Garden scene. Yet, as He returns each time from his three visions, He is more “strengthened” as Luke 22:43 suggests, and not so much in torment, growing more and more peaceful as the Garden scene progresses. I guess, my artistic preference would have been to let the suffering play out more in the visions themselves or between them. Jesus could have still come to peace at the end, because the actual “agony” per se was fairly short. And given how well-acted Roumie’s Jesus was during that portion of acute agony (I could hardly hold back my tears), I almost wanted more of it to enter longer into that agony spiritually. But that’s just me.

The Triumphal Entry, The Cleansing of the Temple, The Last Supper, and the Garden of Gethsemane. These events basically sum up the whole season. I think on its own Season 5 dragged at times a little more than the other seasons, being more talk-heavy for large portions and bogged down a little in the political backstory. But the bigger biblical story beats pay off and still makes the overall experience worthwhile. This season sets up season six to focus as much as possible on the Passion, Death, and Resurrection of Christ. I can’t wait for Lent 2026 to see them finally get their chance to portray the Paschal Mystery in its fullness.