Angel’s Drummer Boy whisks us off to the Revolutionary War, where two brothers decide to fight on opposite sides. This multi-genre film gives us a compelling story, competent craftsmanship and some good music—and it wears its Christian underpinnings on its sleeve. But parents should note the film’s wartime setting and be braced for violence and death.
When colonists first landed in the New World, they saw it as such: new. Uncharted. Unspoiled. Perhaps, with vision, hard work and God’s help, it could be a true utopia.
Funny how, as those colonists began settling this New World, it came to look so much like the old one.
It’s 1775, and the Clem family is eking out a living under British colonial rule. Their father, Nathaniel, had hoped that this would be a land where people could “truly be free.” But Nathaniel, a British officer, was killed within sight of the New World. Now it’s just his widow, Rachel, and their two sons, Jeremiah and Benjamin. Their small flour mill keeps them fed, but it’s not an easy existence. Not by any means.
And circumstances are about to make it much worse.
When shots are fired in nearby Lexington, relational battlelines are quickly drawn. Do you support your king and country? British authorities ask. Are you going to fight against tyranny? Others shout. Both Britain and the rebellion are looking for soldiers. And if you sign up for the wrong side … well, that’s a tarring and feathering for you.
Jeremiah Clem doesn’t want to take sides. Not really. He just wants to keep the family business afloat and not do anything to upset Lord Balfour, a British colonel and father of the lovely Lady Elizabeth Balfour. He’d sure like to court the young woman—and Lizzie, it seems, is open to being courted. And while Jeremiah knows that his late father longed for a land of freedom, Jeremiah himself has more practical considerations.
But headstrong Benjamin is another matter.
Benjamin is a would-be rebel if ever there was one. And he’d join Gen. Washington’s army, too, if it wasn’t for his bum leg (injured in the same naval battle in which his father was killed). But when one of the flour mill’s customers starts belittling the “yankees,” Ben’s not having it. The two get into a tussle and, before you can say “the British are coming,” the Clems’ most loyal customers are storming off.
“We can always take our grain somewhere else,” one grouses.
Well, that won’t do at all. Not for the Clem family, at any rate. Jeremiah needs to make amends and fast. He rides into the nearby town of Kingston. And when he returns, Jeremiah’s wearing a red coat. He’s joined the British colonial army—pleasing Lord Balfour and Lizzie but seriously disappointing his brother.
“Father didn’t die for England,” Ben says at the dinner table that night. “He died for us. He said that this was the only place where we could be truly free.”
“Then he died for a lie!” Jeremiah shouts.
When colonists came to the New World, many hoped to build a utopia. But now, families are splitting. Brothers are fighting each other. And that utopia looks so far away.
In happier times in the musical Drummer Boy, Jeremiah and Benjamin get along just fine. When Benjamin laments at how badly the British establishment treats him—largely because of his injured leg—Jeremiah reassures him. “They don’t decide who you are,” he tells Ben. “It doesn’t matter if they don’t believe in you. I do.” And even when Ben gets into that tussle with the Tory, it’s Jeremiah who comes to his brother’s rescue.
Jeremiah has also formed a strong friendship with Emmaline, one of Lord Balfour’s many slaves. We see them as children together, as Jeremiah teaches Emmaline how to read. And he continues to talk with and even joke around with her, though some cast a sidelong glance at their familiarity. He even gives her money for her “freedom fund,” the price with which Emmaline can theoretically buy her own emancipation, and Jeremiah later encourages Emmaline’s enslaver to release her. Whatever Jeremiah might’ve said to his brother about their father dying for a lie, Jeremiah still believes in that lofty idea—that men and women should be free under the law. And even though he thinks it’s impossible, Jeremiah comes to long for a world wherein he and Emmaline might even be more than friends.
But for a long while, Jeremiah is unwilling to risk much for those ideals, and Drummer Boy suggests that Jeremiah is too pragmatic and world-wise for his own good. Real change comes through a courageous embrace of what is right, the film insists, and Benjamin Clem is that camp’s standard-bearer. Despite his crooked leg, Ben eventually joins the rebellion anyway—serving as the movie’s title character. He’s willing to risk a great deal for the cause of freedom. But in the end, another message—that of love and forgiveness—comes to the fore, and Ben shows plenty of bystanders just how that’s done, too.
Emmaline is just as courageous in her own way. Just as Jeremiah taught her to read, Emmaline teaches others to do the same thing—at great risk to herself. In the Continental Army, Maj. John Ambrose proves to be a tireless advocate for Benjamin, and he seems to consider the lad to be something of a second son to him. The major does his best to keep Benjamin free of shedding blood because he knows that killing a man can mess you up something awful. And he sacrifices a lot to keep Benjamin free of that guilt.
And finally, one word about Rachel Clem: She does her best to keep peace in her fractured family, encouraging Jeremiah and Benjamin to play nice and treat each other as the brothers they are. She’s terrified when both wind up joining the fight, anxious for their safety as only a mother can be.
Just about every one of the positive elements listed above walks with its hand in a faith-based glove.
For instance, let’s look at when Jeremiah is teaching Emmaline to read. He teaches her out of a Bible (kept safely locked away in a box), and the verse they dive into (of course) is Galatians 3:28, which stresses how under Christ there is “neither slave nor free.” And when Jeremiah’s about to go off to war, Emmaline tells him that he’ll be in her prayers. She later references “God Almighty.”
Maj. Ambrose uses the Bible to tell Benjamin why the drummer should steer clear of bloodshed, too: He recounts how King David wanted to build a great temple to God, but God said no. Why? The major paraphrases God’s reasoning, saying, “Because you are a man of war, and you have shed too much blood.”
Ambrose’s faith comes out in other conversations, too. When Benjamin asks if he was originally Scottish (which would account for his antipathy to the British), the major jokes, “Even worse. I’m a Presbyterian.” He says that when his own son died of a fever—made worse by the British privations of his land—he secretly blamed God in part for his boy’s death. But he closed that chapter and now is a man of deep faith. “Do I believe my boy walks among the angels?” he asks Benjamin rhetorically. “Do I believe that Christ died to save a wretch like me? If so, how could I not believe in forgiveness?”
In a church, after both of her sons have gone off to join their respective armies, Rachel sings, “So I’ll pray and I’ll wait/Oh dear lord, keep my boys safe.” Maj. Ambrose sings about “hearts in Christian love.” A hymn is sung as well, and we hear renditions of both the traditional carol, “The Little Drummer Boy” and For King & Country’s more contemporary version, “Drummer Boy”. Another song features faith-centric lyrics that sounds like a lament of the horrors of war—and the tragic irony of how people who are so alike can wind up shooting each other. “We got the same God, same air we breathe,” one lyric tells us. Another describes us as “sinners dressed like saints.” And all that is couched with the dirge-like repetition of “God be with us,” and more poignantly, “God forgive us.”
Jeremiah writes a series of letters to a woman back home. “Does friendship not entail to carry one another’s burdens?” he writes, echoing Galatians 6:2. In another letter, Jeremiah’s pen pal asks if the writers of the Declaration of Independence “truly believe that God made us all equal.”
People pray and reference prayer. Someone visits a ruined church.
As mentioned, Jeremiah has a crush on Elizabeth Balfour. The two dance at a ball (a dance, I might add, that is a touch more sensual than traditional colonial dances would’ve been), and when Jeremiah asks if he might write to her when he heads off to war, Lizzie says that he may. That, in the context of the day, essentially means the two are courting.
[Spoilers are contained in the rest of this section.] But while Jeremiah writes to Lizzie constantly, she doesn’t write back. And when Emmaline reminds Lizzie that Jeremiah could die, Lizzie says, “which makes me all the more reluctant to form an attachment.”
Well, Emmaline has always had a bit of a crush on Jeremiah, the movie suggests. But she also hates the idea of Jeremiah going letter-less in his hours of need. So Emmaline begins writing for Elizabeth, masquerading as her mistress and signing every letter with, simply, the letter “E.”
The first letter is essentially a Dear John letter, relinquishing Jeremiah from any sort of responsibility or emotional attachment. But Jeremiah wants to keep writing, and Emmaline (still masquerading as Lizzie) acquiesces. The two, naturally, fall for each other. But when Emmaline’s ruse is eventually exposed—even though Jeremiah realizes he’s in love with her—Jeremiah says any would-be relationship is unrealistic.
“I long for a world where I could choose you,” Jeremiah says.
“’There is no slave nor free,’” Emmaline says to him. “You taught me to read those words, and I believed them. With all my soul. Do you?”
But Emmaline holds another secret, too: She’s the child of Lord Balfour himself. Lizzie has known of this family secret for quite some time. “You, that unrelenting reminder of my father’s shame,” she tells Emmaline.
When Benjamin first tries to enlist in the Continental Army, Maj. Ambrose tries to discourage him—both because of Benjamin’s splinted leg and because of the carnage Ambrose knows is coming.
“Have you ever seen war?” Ambrose asks Benjamin. “’Cause I have. And what I’ve seen tells you to go home.”
What we see in Drummer Boy is far less than what Maj. Ambrose has witnessed in his long military career. But the violence is still worth noting.
Before the Clem family even reaches American shores, their ship is attacked—presumably by the French. We see people shot, sliced and stabbed, and Benjamin’s leg is smashed by a falling mast. (We don’t see the impact, but the aftermath is obviously a big plot point throughout the rest of the film.) A cannonball impressively smashes through part of a ship.
Once the Revolutionary War begins, soldiers continue to do their utmost to kill those on the opposing sides. People are shot and stabbed. We see lifeless bodies lying on the field of battle. Blood seeps through shirts, and people expire after uttering poignant last words. Not every injury leads to death, of course: One survivor is grateful to an opposing soldier for saving him. Another man survives but bears a war wound for, presumably, the rest of his life.
Benjamin and another man get into a physical confrontation. The man throws plenty of punches before Jeremiah puts a stop to it. Earlier, the same man roughly bumps into Benjamin while the two walk down a street. Jeremiah angrily tries to dissuade Ben from joining the Continental Army. “One week dragging that useless leg around will be enough to get every last one of [his fellow soldiers] killed.”
A bridge is blown up. A town (and several surrounding buildings) are burned down. A couple of women are roughly jostled, and one is physically dragged out of a room. A woman slaps another woman. People are knocked around in battle. An officer threatens to execute one of his soldiers for treason.
We hear one use of the British profanity “bloody.”
While we can assume that people drink during a ball at Lord Balfour’s house, I don’t believe we actually see anyone drinking.
Slavery is a critical subplot for Drummer Boy; the irony of slaveowners writing the Declaration of Independence is not lost on the movie—nor on its characters. “I see the contradiction,” Emmaline says. “I daresay so does [Thomas Jefferson].” But Drummer Boy also reminds us that freedom is, as the Declaration says, an innate right given by God. “It is not your place to allow me to be what God Almighty has made me to be,” she tells her enslaver. “Free.”
As noted, one character pretends to be another, directly misleading two important parties. While the plot may largely justify her actions, this subterfuge is still worth talking through.
People mock Benjamin for his condition.
It took nearly a decade for Drummer Boy to get to the big screen, according to a postscript message from For King & Country’s Luke and Joel Smallbone—the latter of whom stars as Jeremiah. And perhaps it’s not so surprising. You don’t see a lot of Christian historical war drama musicals greenlit for production. It says something about the clout that For King & Country wields for this film to not just get made, but land in wide release—the same weekend that such cinematic heavyweights as The Cat in the Hat and Godzilla Minus Zero are debuting as well.
Fans of the Smallbones—or of Christian cinema—will find a lot to appreciate here.
If you’re going to make an action/musical, you need it to look good. And Drummer Boy looks pretty good. The opening naval sequence is particularly impressive. The film includes some recognizable actors, too, and Joel Smallbone is effective in his pivotal role. And for those who’re more interested in the music, they won’t be disappointed. While I’m not sure whether Drummer Boy is a great musical—its numbers can feel a bit unconvincingly shoehorned in—the music is strong.
I think the same can be said for Drummer Boy’s messages.
The film can feel a bit contrived at times, and the story’s tension doesn’t always feel earned. And yet, when it comes to its desire to teach, encourage and perhaps even challenge its viewers, Drummer Boy does its job well.
While the movie has its share of heroes and villains, they come with more complexity than you’d expect. Joel Smallbone’s Jeremiah is an especially nuanced character—and one that comes with weaknesses that many modern Christians, including me, could work on. Let’s be pragmatic, he says. Let’s be sensible. We must work in the world we’re given. But, of course, if you ever aim to change that world, you have to take risks and lean on God in a way that, only slowly, does Jeremiah understand.
Drummer Boy is a heartfelt film that offers its Christian messages like a gift, not a cudgel. It wraps those messages in a nicely competent package and slaps a toe-tapping musical bow on the top. And while it might not be to everyone’s taste, many Christians will open this package, smile broadly and say that it was just what they wanted.
Paul Asay has been part of the Plugged In staff since 2007, watching and reviewing roughly 15 quintillion movies and television shows. He’s written for a number of other publications, too, including Time, The Washington Post and Christianity Today. The author of several books, Paul loves to find spirituality in unexpected places, including popular entertainment, and he loves all things superhero. His vices include James Bond films, Mountain Dew and terrible B-grade movies. He’s married, has two children and a neurotic dog, runs marathons on occasion and hopes to someday own his own tuxedo. Feel free to follow him on Twitter @AsayPaul.
