‘Warrior Nun’ on Netflix is a Rip-Roaring, Ultra-Catholic ‘Buffy’

The title of Netflix’s new action adventure series Warrior Nun just about dares you not to take it seriously. Set in contemporary Spain, the series follows a young woman (Alba Baptista) who rises from the dead armed with holy superpowers thanks to an angel’s halo that’s been placed in her back. Did you get all that?

As schlocky as the concept sounds, the series itself is a breathlessly fun joy ride. There are battles with demons, morally ambiguous scientists, wild twists that will make your jaw drop, and a secret sect of — you guessed it — warrior nuns. Ironically enough, Warrior Nun is also a terribly philosophical show that tackles some of the most bitter moral debates raging within the modern Catholic church with wit, courage, and above all, soul. Warrior Nun is not the show you think it is: it’s 1000% better.

Warrior Nun is based on the graphic novel series Warrior Nun Areala by Ben Dunn. When the previous Warrior Nun is killed in a mysterious set-up, her holy allies attempt to give the halo that had empowered her to the next in line, Sister Lilith (Lorena Andrea). Fate intercedes, and a desperate nun attempts to hide the halo in the body of a paraplegic orphan’s corpse. What this means is that the power of the heavens is in the hands of a teenaged girl riddled with angst and feverish for freedom.

From there, Warrior Nun follows the basic beats of Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey. A nobody is called to greatness, they then resist the call, and finally, with the help of a wizened mentor, they decide to embark on a perilous quest for good. Many modern hero stories struggle to explain why someone of noble heart would run away from a righteous fight, but Warrior Nun roots Ava’s whole being in her trepidation. Ava is as much a victim of the Church as she is its chosen champion. While she was living confined to an orphanage bed, she was horrifically abused by the nuns tasked with her care. Ava’s antipathy towards the Church is wholly justifiable as is the fact that she is initially more thankful for the newfound ability to walk, run, and dance than she is about any of her God-given superpowers.

In fact, the moment I fell hard for Warrior Nun was the sequence where Ava, newly risen from the dead, gets to revel — literally — in her situation. Unaware of why this “miracle” has occurred, she takes advantage of it to dance with abandon and run along a picturesque Spanish beach. Star Alba Baptista plays these scenes with an infectious bliss. It’s not merely that she has control over her limbs; for the first time ever, she has control over her life.

Baptista’s Ava is a new kind of innocent: a babe in woods with a potty mouth and adorably horny sex drive. She’s as likely to jump head first into a pristine swimming pool as she is to awkwardly blunder her way through a conversation with her handsome admirer, the conveniently named J.C. (Emilio Sakraya). So it doesn’t feel strange that our heroine is torn between duty to an institution that mistreated her and a life of excitement. It feels right.

It’s that inner battle between sticking to the rules of a doctrine and question its inherent morality that made Warrior Nun so fascinating to this lapsed Catholic. While I still feel culturally tied to the traditions of the religion, my own moral conviction is to stick to kind-heartedness and the most basic teachings of the New Testament over the often oppressive screed of a millennia-old institution. Warrior Nun ultimately deals with this moral debate head on. Is it better to lead with love, forgiveness, and humility, or do you simply have to fall in line with what your local Cardinal says? And are there good reasons to do the latter that you can’t see at first glance? These are heavy questions for anyone raised in any religious institution, and Warrior Nun doesn’t let the Catholic Church off the hook.

In many ways, Warrior Nun can best be summed up as “Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but ultra Catholic.” It’s a rip-roaring adventure full of gorgeous young women fighting demons. You could say it’s nothing but silly fun. But it works thanks to a star-making performance from leading lady Alba Baptista. The Portuguese actress (who boasts a seriously spot-on American accent) is effervescent, incorrigible, and downright lovable as Ava. You don’t root for her because she’s fighting for some ancient order, but because she wears her heart on her sleeve and hides her past traumas under a goofy grin.

Warrior Nun is the rare pulpy fantasy show that knows when to lean into its silly side and when to slow down and get serious. That makes it incredibly addictive for a specific kind of action fan.

Warrior Nun premieres on Netflix on Thursday, July 2. 

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