Why “Prince Of Egypt” Is The Best Deconversion Movie Of All Time
This past week, my partner and I watched Dreamworks’ 1998 animated musical Prince of Egypt. It’s the biblical story of Moses, with some license taken, and even though I’m an atheist and have been for a while now, I still love it and watch it at least once a year. In fact, I’d say it’s the best deconversion movie I’ve ever seen.
Now, if you don’t know this film, you either never were raised Christian or you were raised so Christian that animated Egyptians’ bare chests were anathama in your house. For those of us who were just liberal enough to allow cartoon nipples on our TV screens, it’s one of the best (the only truly great?) pieces of Christian media.
The animation is beautiful, the cast is all-star — Patrick Stewart, Helen Mirren, Michelle Pfeiffer, Ralph Feinnes, Sandra Bullock, Jeff Goldblum, and others — and the music by Hans Zimmer is some of his most transportive work. I grew up with that soundtrack. As a kid, I even memorized the Hebrew portion of “When You Believe” to sing in church (and can still sing it because brains hold onto the strangest stuff).
But even as an atheist, I find myself strangely drawn to it. Not just for its nostalgic value, or its artistic merit. There’s something else, something that speaks to me deep down, and only this week did I realize what it was: I cannot think of a storyline that matches my own emotional journey from Christianity to atheism better than this one.
Some Necessary Caveats Before We Dive In
I want to make a few things clear. This is not a one-to-one comparison. I’m not saying that Christians are physically enslaving others (most of the time), or that my father killed a whole bunch of Hebrew babies (he was bad but not genocide-bad), or that I consider myself the hero of any story except my own. I am not ordained to set people free, or to do miracles, or be any kind of leader. Our similarities begin and end with our movement through the emotional steps of this very similar journey.
I also want to make it clear that I view Prince of Egypt and the story of Moses as a whole as a fiction, one of the best ancient myths we have access to. I also am only talking about the film here. I am well aware that as beautiful as it is, it’s also highly problematic in areas and not at all accurate in a historical or cultural context. So please don’t think I think Dreamworks put any more than a marginal amount of cultural sensitivity or accuracy into their production.
Finally, when I use Christian in the context of this article, I’m using it to describe the predominant attitudes and structures I interacted with as a kid/young adult: a white Evangelical Conservative outlook.
Alright, let’s dive into the different ways that Prince of Egypt is the best deconversion movie of all time.
When He Realizes He’s Been Lied To
Moses has a pretty good life. He considers himself royalty, has his path set out for him, the support of a privileged community, and the favor of the gods. This allows him to act like an entitled little shit. He tramples over others— not because he means to hurt them, but because their own plights don’t mean as much to him. They aren’t as important. He’s a child of the gods.
He has a loving family, and real deep bonds with those who have been lying to him. This is crucial, because it so perfectly encapuslates the possibility of that seeming unsolvable tension between telling someone untruths and loving them wholeheartedly. They weren’t monsters, they cared about him and were honestly convinced that their actions were their gods’ will. Moses was the odd one out, the one who questioned things.
When our main character has his awakening, what does he do? He resists it, he panics. He starts looking at everything with new eyes, clinging desperately to old stories and thought patterns to soothe himself:
I am a soveriegn prince of Egypt
A son of the proud history that’s told, etched on every wall
Surely this is all I ever wanted
All I ever wanted…
“All I Ever Wanted” to this day will make me cry with memories of realizing that I wasn’t one of the Chosen, that I was different and would probably have to leave. It felt like unwillingly waking up from a wonderful dream, and nothing captures that desperate, longing emotion more than this song or the visuals that accompany it in the film.
But, because he knows he’s going to have to figure this out or never rest again, Moses commits to doing research to confirm whether or not what he suspects is true. He runs through those painted walls looking for proof of his doubts and fears, and he finds it. That franticness, that drop-to-your-knees-as-your-world-crumbles-around-you feeling of that scene? YUP.
And when his family attempts to comfort him, you can tell that they truly care. But the illusion has been shattered. Something is going to have to shift.
The Transgression of Humanizing Those “Less Than”
That shift happens when Moses begins humanizing the “less-than-human” Hebrews the Egyptians are enslaving. Suddenly their plight is not only unbearable to witness, but it’s clear he is complicit. He’s waking up to see what his worldview, what his ignorant bliss, was doing to other people.
Similarly, as I started asking more questions about my faith, the most prominent concerns I had were about the welfare of those who I’d previously believed were somehow not as important as me. Perhaps the term “less-than-human” is a bad one; I’d say I saw them as “just human” as opposed to my own reticent holiness. People of different sexual or gender orientations, racial backgrounds, cultures, religions (or lack thereof)… these were people whose full humanity you fought for at the risk of your own social standing in the community.
It was when I started realizing that I needed to stand up for these other people (not yet realizing I was one of them) that I began moving away from my prior beliefs and worldviews. Similarly, it is Moses tackling an overseer whipping an old Hebrew man that finally makes him realize that he can’t be here anymore.
Running Away and Finding Community
He runs in a panic, away from a family who is confused and hurt by his departure. He goes into the desert, not sure what to expect but definitely resigned to a life defined by loss. It’s drab and scary and harsh and endless and dangerous… all the things that you’re told the world outside Christ is.
But then Moses finds community. It’s not as well-established or wealthy as his old culture (while individual Christians may often be just as poor as anyone else, the organizational wealth of Christianity is astounding, especially in comparison with atheist organizations). But they’re welcoming and joyful and revel in a kind of freedom Moses has never known.
And that’s why we share all we have with you
Though there’s little to be found
When all you’ve got is nothing
There’s a lot to go around
They take him in, take care of him, gently help him shift his perspective from one of needing control to one of accepting what is. He even finds a partner there… the first person from that community that he ever met. (I don’t think Eric would mind being compared to Tsipporah in this instance.)
I’m not just talking about the atheist community, although the fun-loving, food-oriented, ragtag celebrations of the Midianites do remind me of our after-show Sunday dinners at the Atheist Community of Austin. I’m also talking about the wide variety of people I’ve met since leaving my religion: the witches and pagans, the joyful and proud members of the LGBTQ+ community (faithful and not), those people who in the past I would have looked down on and today not only are my closest friends but have helped shape me into someone different.
Like Moses during the epic “Through Heaven’s Eyes” montage, I shed my costume, the trappings of my past life, and became more fully myself.
Discovering The Burning Bush
OK, if you aren’t in tears at the end of the Burning Bush scene, I don’t know what’s wrong with you. Between the music and the visuals, this truly is a beautiful sequence. (It’s also the most impressive artistic depiction of God I’ve seen in modern media. Sorry, Morgan Freeman.) Also, I always appreciated the decision to not make this scene into a musical number and allow Hans Zimmer to compose something so sweeping and gorgeous that it would transcend words. Talk about good directing.
For me now, though, that feeling that is so perfectly captured in this scene: Joy and terror in encountering something so alien and yet so familiar? Being utterly changed by it, to the point where you know you can never pretend to go back to the way things were? Realizing that this was with you all along, burning unnoticed, waiting for you to discover it before roaring to life? Becoming envigorated to go out and Do A Thing on behalf of this compelling force?
That’s how it felt to discover myself.
Not the version of me that I was told I should be, not the version censored by my old community or dictated from on high. A version that was so real and pure that it was honestly really scary to encounter. It was a total shift in perspective, something almost inexplicable and something others wouldn’t even really believe unless they’d experienced it too.
The Second Worldview Shift: Becoming An Activist
Another reason this film is so perfect is that it not only captures my deconversion and the moving away from a worldview, but the discovery of a new one: one centered around activism and going back to my roots to address the issue. In the same way that going back to believing a lie is impossible, so is ignoring an internal conviction that you should be doing something about it.
For Moses, it wasn’t enough to live out his own life free in the desert, outside the reach of the tyranny of the Egyptians. He felt compelled to go back and do something about that overreach of power. It was something many of his Midianite friends and family couldn’t understand. Why go back? Why do you think you can make a difference? You’re just one person?
But he is strengthened by it. When he first realizes this is his calling, he is joyful and envigorated. His resolve hardens, he is given a purpose and a way to atone for his own past as someone complicit in the organization that is responsible for the oppression of others. Even if it will inevitably pit him against those that he loves.
Being Unfazed By Threats of Gods and Priests
One of the best parts of this second half of the film is how Moses re-enters Egypt and everything feels both nostalgic and foreign. A bit colder. The tones are cooler, the music is a bit off-kilter. It’s not home anymore, as familiar as it might be. And the religion that he grew up with is no longer threatening.
When the two High Priests attempt to intimidate him with their various gods and miracles (shown ultimately to be no more than sleights of hand), Moses is unfazed. Not angry, not scared. Honestly, he seems utterly disinterested in speaking to the gods or their spokesmen at all.
He wants to connect with his brother, appeal to his humanity, and it is disconcerting in the extreme when Rameses starts speaking as a god himself: “I am the morning and the evening star!” he proclaims, and Moses recoils. It feels well-intentioned but hubristic, misguided, almost laughable.
Again, never in my life have I seen a better depiction of how it feels to go home to a religious community and have them try to convince me of their gods’ might or speak on behalf of God. How they convey their love comes across as genuine but also very tone-deaf to where I’m coming from. They assume I haven’t changed.
There is also a moment when Rameses (again, with good intentions) attempts to magically absolve or wash away Moses’s previous transgressions in order to make him worthy of their acceptance once again. And this is jarring for a couple reasons. First, no man has the power to do that, and it’s portrayed very clearly that Rameses is speaking out of his loinclothed ass here. And second, Moses didn’t do anything wrong. These transgressions are contextual, situational, cultural. They see him as tarnished by their standards, but we’ve come to realize those standards are wildly skewed.
The Love of Family Is At the Heart of Everything
Finally, we come to the true heart of this story: the tension between family members who not only believe different things but are also actively participating on opposite sides. Rameses was excited to see his brother return, only to feel hurt, betrayed, and attacked by Moses’s new mission. Moses struggled to reconcile his hatred at the treatment of the Hebrews with the love he genuinely held for his family and home.
The scene after most of the Plagues have already taken place, where Moses returns once more to the palace to confront Rameses and beg him to let the Hebrews go, is one of the most poignant for me. They reminisce — cautiously, fraught with emotion — about their shared childhood memories. They are trying so desperately to connect, and they almost get there, before they remember how diametrically opposed they are.
I don’t think anyone watching the film would suggest that these brothers did not love each other. That the pain of being forced by personal convictions to opposite sides wasn’t felt by both. We are able to hold these conflicting emotions in tension for imaginary characters, so why not real people?
Never for a minute do I doubt my family’s love for me, and I assure them often that I love them too. We have come to an uneasy truce, at least for now, where we understand that we will never see eye to eye on the issue of faith or the role of religion in society. There are times where we hurt each other badly in the name of our opposing convictions.
I published my speech on how creationism is abuse and called out my homeschooling background as founded on lies and miseducation. And I stand by that, but I hurt my family in doing so. My family, meanwhile, thinks that I’m damned to hell as a prideful or rebellious soul, and continue to worship the God that will ultimately send me to everlasting torment. They vote for people who actively work to make my life as a non-cis, non-het person worse, and gaslight me when I try to express this concern. That hurts me immeasurably, but you know what? I love them anyway.
And just like in Prince of Egypt, it might never be rectified. I have resigned myself to that bittersweet ending where we hold this love and this hurt in tension. But then I look at the side I’m standing on, the side I’m standing for, and I see my community. The people I’ve helped, in whatever small way I can. And we’re going to sing and dance and be free together.
Why I Wrote This Incredibly Self-Indulgent Article
Apart from just wanting to share this deep love and appreciation of this kid’s film with other people who might get the connection between its themes and their own, there’s a bigger reason why I wrote this piece.
I watched Prince of Egypt as a Christian. I understood why Moses did what he did, why he felt like he did. Of course he would run away if he realized his life was a lie. Of course he would find peace with people who interacted with him genuinely and joyfully. Of course he would feel compelled to pit himself against his own family in order to do what he thought was right. Of course he wouldn’t be convinced by those fake Egyptian gods.
White Evangelical Christians are never going to see themselves as Egypt, the self-centered oppressor in this story. They will always see themselves as the Hebrews, the heroes and underdogs, the ones who are oppressed and will get divine vengeance on the last day. I fully understand that. But my hope is that by framing my story in comparison to one they know so well, I can bring about a bit more understanding of where I’m coming from.
Do you understand Moses in this story? Then you can understand me.
