When I first saw the trailer for Brideshead Revisited, my reflexive categorization of the movie was three hour British soap opera, not unlike most of the programming that fills the daytime hours of my television... but potentially improved by better acting, high-budget period costuming, and locations to die for.

Young middle-class artist Charles gets swept into the world of the rich and privileged under the arm of the desperately needy (and clearly gay) Lord Sebastian Flyte (Ben Wishaw). Once he arrives at the family estate (Brideshead), Charles (Matthew Goode) falls for Sebastian's mysteriously beautiful (but also unattainable) sister, Julia (Hayley Atwell). And of course with Emma Thompson playing the role of the household's head, Lady Marchmain, how could you not expect a little May-December romance to come into play as well?

But after watching the movie, I must admit that my initial prediction almost missed the theme of the film entirely. As much as the movie is filled with its fair share of romantic entanglements and plays of passion, it is almost more about religion, faith, and the precarious tension between guilt and freedom than anything else.

As two moviegoers walking in front of me said as we left the theater, "I had no idea it was going to be so much about religion."

"All this Catholic guilt shit," responded the other. "It fucks them all up."

Judging by several other conversations I heard while leaving the theater, that seemed to be the consensus of much of the audience. Even as a religious person myself, my impression was also that it was a movie about religion gone wrong, of condemnation without forgiveness, guilt without mercy, and rules without relationship.

But as I sorted through the movie's story a bit more (and looked into the classic novel on which it is based), I was in for yet another surprise. Despite the reaction its 21st century cinematic representation may be producing, when Evelyn Waugh wrote the novel Brideshead Revisited in 1945, he commented that his intention was actually to portray the value of the Catholic faith which he practiced. His story meant not to showcase the destructive force of guilt, but the need for mercy and the amazing freedom which only it can give.

I confess, I was shocked. But then, it began to make sense. In more ways than one, the story of Brideshead and its family is about guilt and its destructive nature. For Sebastian, guilt is what continually denies him a sense of value and drives him into a life of alcoholism. For Julia, guilt is what causes her to shut out the greatest passion she has ever known and remain in a loveless life. And for Lady Marchmain, guilt is what drives a wedge between her and her children and essentially destroys their entire family.

But as much guilt as there is in the movie, there also is mercy. And when there is mercy, there is a happiness and a joy that, while subtle, is almost more overwhelming than its guilt. In one scene that involves a deathbed acceptance of God's forgiveness by a member of the Flyte family, the look on Julia's nearby face is the most joyous expression we see on her in the entire movie. And although Sebastian spends much of the movie searching for happiness and sinking further and further into a life of despair, when Charles visits him at the Catholic monastery where he has found refuge, Sebastian tells him, "I'm happy here&ellips; I asked too much of you. ... I knew it all along really. Only God can give you that kind of love."

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