The Theory of Everything, directed by James Marsh in 2014, is often considered a biographical drama about Stephen Hawking’s scientific achievements and his struggles with ALS, a progressive neurodegenerative disease. Yet beneath this conventional narrative lies a nuanced exploration of the ongoing tension between religious faith and scientific rationality that refuses simplistic resolution. Through subtle visual cues, the film constructs a cinematic theology that transcends the apparent biographical framework, suggesting that the scientific story of creation does not replace religious narratives. Instead, meticulous visual juxtapositions and layers of religious visual symbolism present science as an alternative language for expressing the same fundamental human awe before existence.

The film’s exploration of faith versus science is particularly fascinating through its subtle visual grammar. Director Marsh achieves this by framing Hawking in compositions that echo religious iconography. Indeed, Hawking’s body is treated as another layer of religious subtext rather than presenting his physical deterioration simply as a medical tragedy. His increasingly immobile form echoes religious narratives of transcendence through suffering without explicitly acknowledging them. This transmutation of physical limitation into spiritual significance becomes apparent in several key scenes. When Hawking first experiences symptoms of ALS at Cambridge, he collapses on the courtyard stone, his body in a cruciform position. This serves as a visual reference to sacrifice and suffering that later manifests as Hawking’s intellectual catalyst. Similarly, as his condition worsens, consistent overhead shots position his wheelchair within circular architectural elements, creating visual mandalas that illuminate both scientific models of the universe and sacred geometry. These compositions offer deeper insight into the convergence of scientific and religious worldviews rather than rejecting one alone. Moreover, this complementary relationship becomes further exemplified when Hawking is depicted sitting against a window, contemplating his accomplishments. The silhouette of his wheelchair forms a distinct chalice-like outline, a visual metaphor symbolizing redemption, honor, and celebration for his achievements despite hardships. This progressive visual sanctification mirrors Hawking’s intellectual journey from studying time to contemplating its beginning.

Throughout the film, the tension between faith and science extends beyond the obvious dialogue between Jane’s Anglicanism and Hawking’s atheism. The scientific spaces themselves are imbued with distinctly religious qualities. This is evident in the strategic filming of the Cambridge physics department, akin to a temple of rationality, using cathedral-like lighting. Shafts of light cut through darkness in ways that evoke Caravaggio’s religious paintings rather than the fluorescent clarity typically associated with scientific laboratories. The strong contrasts of light and shadow portray realistic imperfections and hardships in everyday life, overcoming typical idealized depictions of sacredness. It communicates the raw humanity in science, often labeled as exclusively catered towards esoteric academic communities. Correspondingly, during Hawking's thesis defense, the camera circles him as sunlight creates halos. This scene transforms academic ritual into religious revelation, suggesting an inherent compatibility between faith and scientific rationality. Likewise, building on this lighting effect, Hawking’s breakthrough about black hole radiation occurs in front of a fireplace. The flickering light creates the visual effect of divine inspiration, dissolving the boundary between empirical discovery and spiritual epiphany. 

In fact, the film’s treatment of cosmology itself is particularly subversive, as it refuses to present a straightforward refutation of creation narratives when Hawking discusses the origin of the universe. Visualizations of swirling cosmic dust, collapsing stars, and dancing particles are filmed with the same aesthetic reverence typically reserved for religious visions. Consequently, this intersection presents science as a tool for understanding divine creation by revealing the intricate beauty and order in constructing scientific and spiritual knowledge. The film further complicates the science-faith binary through its treatment of time, presenting it simultaneously as a scientific concept and existential reality: two distinct perspectives that complement rather than contradict each other. This dualism is illuminated by the repeated motif of clockwork, such as the Cambridge clock tower and the watch Jane gives to Hawking, establishing time as mechanical and mysterious. For example, the film juxtaposes Hawking’s research on the origins and physical properties of time, undoubtedly a scientific pursuit, with visual language that resonates with religious conceptions of eternity. This reaches its philosophical apex when Hawking experiences a moment of apparent transcendence at a concert. As the camera moves through space, the slow-motion cinematography illustrates time as slowing and reversing, which momentarily frees Hawking from chronological constraints. This sequence is particularly profound because Hawking, a strict atheist, firsthand experiences what amounts to a cinematic meditation on the nature of eternity. 

Ultimately, The Theory of Everything refuses to position science against faith as competing explanations. Through these carefully constructed visual metaphors, Marsh creates a cinematic universe where scientific inquiry itself becomes a form of sacred contemplation. Equations and prayers are not adversaries but parallel human attempts to touch the ineffable. They are complementary languages that express our shared bewilderment at the miracle of existence.