What Josiah Saw Is an Oppressive Meditation on Christianity

Throughout Vincent Grashaw’s What Josiah Saw, what Josiah (Robert Patrick) saw remains the million dollar question. The gruff, menacing patriarch of a secluded Oklahoma farm, at first all Josiah sees are his waning crops and devout, childlike son Tommy (Scott Haze), whom he mercilessly taunts for believing in God. That is, until the night he wakes Tommy up, swearing he was visited by God. He explains that the Almighty told him that he and his children need to repent for their sins, as that is the only way to save the family’s matriarch, Miriam, from the eternal flame she was condemned to after she committed suicide two decades earlier. Okay—we’re 20 minutes in, and the answer already seems simple enough: Josiah saw God. He’s convinced of it, and the ever-earnest Tommy seems to be enthusiastically on board, too.
But then we meet his other kids, twins Eli (Nick Stahl) and Mary (Kelli Garner). The former is engulfed in a life of crime and substance abuse, while the latter is clearly hiding a sinister secret—a suspicion that is confirmed when she reveals that, for some mysterious reason, she was sterilized when she was younger.
The more Eli and Mary’s troubled lives are explored, the less likely it seems that what Josiah saw was simply God offering the family an opportunity to save Miriam’s soul. And if you had any doubts that something more sinister was going on, the ear-piercing score will fix that right up for you—that, or the menacing Southern Gothic imagery. (If the sight of three kids standing in a corn field with paper bags over their heads doesn’t set off some major alarms for you, then I don’t know what will.)
Josiah’s initial vision occurs around the time that an oil company offers to buy the family farm. This, in turn, draws all three of the kids reluctantly back home to deliberate on whether or not to sign off on the sale. What Josiah Saw is split into four chapters, each following one of the now grown-up children in their mysterious, disquieting lives—sort of like a Faulkner novel with ghosts and jump-scares.