In a casting choice that champions authenticity, Netflix’s upcoming biblical drama, Mary, features two Israeli actors, Noa Cohen and Ido Tako, as Mary and Joseph. Joining Hollywood legend Sir Anthony Hopkins as King Herod, these young actors bring a striking realism to a story that holds deep historical and cultural resonance. With a release date set for December 6, the film promises to offer a new look at the journey of Mary and Joseph as they escape the tyranny of King Herod to protect their son. Yet, even before it’s premiered, Mary has attracted a familiar and troubling backlash.
Director D.J. Caruso has shared that the decision to cast Israeli actors was not a box-ticking exercise but rather a deliberate choice grounded in their talent and suitability for the roles. Speaking with Entertainment Weekly, he explained, “We auditioned around 75 young women, and somewhere in the middle of that process, Noa stood out. From her first cold audition, we knew she was the one.” For Caruso, Cohen’s performance brought the necessary grace, strength, and vulnerability to the role. In her, and in Tako, he saw an authenticity and depth that elevated the film’s narrative.
But in the increasingly fraught realm of public opinion, this casting decision has drawn criticism, reviving age-old arguments against the inclusion of Israeli and Jewish artists on the global stage. The demand for their exclusion has, quite remarkably, come to seem almost routine—a regrettable reminder of how deep-rooted biases find modern echoes under the banner of "boycott."
Such calls for cultural exclusion are hardly new, and they raise uncomfortable questions. In this particular case, one can’t help but wonder why the participation of Israeli actors in a film as culturally significant as Mary should attract such ire. After all, this is a narrative of faith, of resilience in the face of oppression, and, dare I say it, of hope. What more suitable figures than young Israelis—part of a people whose history has been shaped by exile, survival, and renewal?
The argument against casting Israeli actors often comes cloaked in political language, masking what is, at its core, a deeply ideological stance. In recent years, the cultural boycott of Israelis has become fashionable in certain quarters, dressed up as a stance against "oppression" but with little regard for the irony that such demands place on artists merely because of their nationality or ethnicity. This is not a political debate; it is the revival of an old animosity, one that has always sought to isolate and ostracise the Jewish people by labelling their presence itself as problematic.
For Noa Cohen, Ido Tako, and other Israeli actors in Mary, their presence in this film speaks to the power of art to transcend borders, to create a space where human experience can be shared and celebrated. It’s a powerful message, and one that, quite frankly, ought to be welcomed, not shunned. The story of Mary and Joseph, particularly one anchored in their flight from persecution, is a universal one. It belongs to no single culture, but to all humanity. To demand exclusion on the grounds of nationality is not only petty; it’s a disservice to the very nature of storytelling itself.
As Mary arrives on our screens this December, let’s resist the tired calls for boycott and instead recognise the tremendous talent and humanity these actors bring to their roles. Let us honour the film’s message and appreciate it as a reminder of our shared history and resilience. In doing so, we uphold the principle that art should unite us, not divide us—because, ultimately, to give in to such boycotts is to give in to the very intolerance they claim to oppose.
