“Cheap cologne cannot cleanse you from the ugliness of sin.”

If Rosalind Ross’s Father Stu is to be taken at something close to face value, Stuart Long (Mark Wahlberg) led an exceedingly interesting life. Giving up an amateur boxing career when his body can no longer sustain the punishment, he quixotically moves to Hollywood to try and break into acting. Instead, to the bemusement of his separated parents (Mel Gibson, Jacki Weaver), he falls in love with a virtuous Catholic girl (Teresa Ruiz) while working the meat counter at a small grocery. Initially dismissive of her faith, he eventually comes to view it as legitimate and receives the sacrament of baptism, though he still clings to his vices. A near-death experience brings him to a moment of transcendent clarity and he elects to forgo marriage in order to pursue ordination to the priesthood—a drastic decision that only comes to fruition after his body has been horribly atrophied by an incurable progressive muscle disorder.

Marred by the cursory treatment of its episodes and a penchant for clever repartee, Father Stu is nevertheless worthwhile as it brings this incredible illustration of God’s providence and the surpassing joy of following His calling to a wide audience without sanitizing it for a Christian market. Crucially, it also avoids presenting conversion to the Christian faith as a climax or ultimate solution, but rather, a beginning. A few questionable theological ideas are floated, but they feel on brand for a character getting out over his skis as he tries to relate to his fellow man.

If I’m being honest, it’s probably at its best when it falls into the rhythms of a screwball comedy or juxtaposes producer-star Wahlberg’s beefcake blue collar charm against the austere environments of sanctuaries and seminaries. “I never done this before,” he says to his confessor. “I just rattle off all the ways I fucked up?” And yet this surplus of profanity and wit (which often dips into bathroom level humor) seems to undermine the emotional depth aimed for in the film’s back half. Wahlberg, who exhibits chemistry with every actor he verbally spars with but struggles when the material requires vulnerability, also impresses with a physical transformation from jacked pugilist to bloated invalid.