Forgive me father for I have sinned. I assumed Channel 4’s nun and priest romantic drama Falling was going to be a titillating romp of lustful temptation and sweaty cassocks. But instead what we got was a beautiful contemplation on the nature of love, sacrifice and leadership.

Written by Adolescence’s co-writer Jack Thorne, it’s not surprising that the drama is a deeper, more considered look at the nature of modern monasticism and religious dedication than the likes of 80s classic The Thorn Birds. Starring Keeley Hawes as Anna – a nun since her teenage years, living in a closed order and dedicating her life to gardening and cooking – and Paapa Essiedu as Father David – a charismatic, grounded, modern priest who specialises in youth outreach – the story follows their first meeting and the subsequent explosion of their lives. While Thorne explored the growing world of hate in today’s youth in Adolescence, here he explores the concept of love and how it fits into today’s world.

Likely, many would assume that dedicating your life to religion is a notion which is almost anachronistic with modern life, but figures in 2015 showed there were more women becoming nuns than for the past 85 years. Falling expertly shows why the life of religious sacrifice is still compelling, and that the things which attracted young girls and boys into the clergy in the past are still things which are prevalent and relevant today

When we meet Anna, she is a contented, bluntly honest, but utterly loving nun of almost 30 years, and on track to be the next abbess of her order. Father David Hicks visits her order, to arrange a visit from some young girls in his congregation who are contemplating a life of devotion. On the surface, David appears a very different creature to Anna, his worldliness evident as he smokes a cigarette waiting for his car to be fixed on the side of a busy motorway, whilst Anna exists in a heavenly idyll surrounded by flowers, bees and peacocks. Yet, from the start, their similarities are there – David’s entire purpose for visiting the order is his work with the youth in his congregation, and we see Anna is nurturing a young postulant, Adeshola. It’s clear both are forward-thinking, grounded in reality clergy, with David advocating for a needle exchange in his parish and Anna donating the produce from her gardens to a food bank.

Of course, their first meeting crackles with chemistry, as Anna prepares food for the bedraggled priest whose car has given up the (Holy) ghost. There is awkwardness and the clashing of worlds in the small kitchen, but when Anna burns her hand, David rushes to help, holding her hand under the cold tap, but igniting a fire. It’s the first time Anna has been touched by a man for decades, and though David realises what he has done, it’s too late. The burn is a perfect metaphor for the fire that now smoulders under Anna’s skin and its slow spread through her entire being.

It isn’t long before this moment sets the fire under Anna’s feet, and she flees the abbey in panic, catching a bus and heading to Bristol to David’s church. The speed at which Anna leaves the abbey is when it becomes clear that Falling is not some “Tipping the Cloth” lustfest. Anna’s feelings exist out in the open, not hidden and sinful; she has confronted them head-on and will not deceive her sisters at the convent by hedging her bets and trying to live by both passions. Her life as a nun is over, no matter what happens with David. Falling is not a story of suppressed passion coming to life; it is a story of the after of what happens when someone realises that the life they have devoted themselves to is no longer fit for purpose. 

It is at this point in the plot that my only quibble with Falling comes into play, as Anna settles herself in David’s parish, attending his mass, and volunteering with his youth choir. That would simply not be allowed by the Catholic church, because while Anna has given up her vows, David has not. He immediately rejects her notion of something romantic between them and continues his life as a priest, while everyone around him knows who she is and why she’s there. There’s no way she would be allowed to continue as a “temptress” to the priest, and would very strongly be urged to move elsewhere for her out-of-order religious life. And though Jason Watkins, as David’s by-the-book tough “boss”, does speak to Anna about returning to her order, there isn’t the same pressure that absolutely would exist in reality for her to simply be “elsewhere”.

However, for dramatic licence, it is easy to ignore as a simple necessity of keeping the pair in each other’s orbits, and even easier when the writing and performances are so compelling.

Keeley Hawes is impeccable as Anna, managing to convey the determination to live honestly, yet feeling of being adrift without an anchor that the ex-nun feels, with her new emotions and new life. There is a wonderfully powerful sequence where she goes shopping for clothes and sees herself in the mirror for the first time in decades. It’s heartbreaking and moving, and an emotive message on the pressure for women not to age and to look the way fashion dictates – and subtly highlights the freedom that a cloistered life brings women, from those demands. Anna’s story also confidently explores the societal message that a woman’s only purpose is reproduction, and how a woman who has “thrown away” her fertile years is seen as wasting her life. 

Though Anna is told she is blunt throughout her emotional journey, there is a softness to her which does not sit comfortably with modern life. It is a part of her nature which seems also to counter her relationship with her mother – something we see unfold as she tentatively reconnects with her blood relatives.

Papa Essiedu, however, is undoubtedly the star of the show with his depiction of conflicted, confused and conscientious David. Living in his sister’s boxroom, we realise the sacrifices he has made mean that,  even though he’s not a monk, he may as well be. He has devoted his entire life to the church, and lives in the smallest of pockets of existence. Over time, we come to realise why that is, with a past full of trauma, heartbreak and addiction. Giving his life to the service of God has saved him in the most real of ways, and so it makes sense that he is loath to throw that away over the ephemeral concept of romantic love.

His addiction is a perfect tool for Thorne to highlight what religion is for so many people. While the quote “religion is the opiate of the masses” is usually used to denigrate the way religion is used to control people, it also reflects the fact that is the acceptable drug many people turn to. Through David, Anna, Adeshola and David’s second-in-command, Francis, we see that the church has been the refuge and escape for them from their traumas, temptations and failures in life.

That refuge is something David is desperately trying to offer teenager Nina, who comes from a home filled with violence and addiction. He nudges her towards the life Anna had chosen, as an escape from all she suffers at home. But it is clear that this life has to be chosen, not given, and that while it may offer a comfort and loving embrace, it does not undo the damage that has been done in the name of “love”. 

Falling truly is one of the best depictions of love in all its forms, showing with tender clarity the depth of love in families, and through platonic relationships – as well as the romantic love Anna and David may have found. The series building up to the second wedding of David’s sister, Susan (fantastically charismatic deaf actress Sophie Leigh Stone), works not only as highlighting the path not taken for David and Anna, but also the limits of the Church when it comes to dealing with human, romantic love. The fact that the church refuses to house or even confirm Susan and her fiancé Simon’s marriage illustrates how ill-equipped the church is to deal with the complexity and messiness of real life love, and thus that Anna and David’s feelings may exist outside of the Church’s acceptance, but not God’s.

The slow, considered scenes of Falling facilitate the underplayed acting of Hawes and Essiedu, with scenes that live in silence and internal emotional turmoil. It is not a show to scroll through, but one to sit with as a calm oasis, like the pew of a church. As David struggles with his addiction, his place and his feelings, it becomes a meditation on the issues of sacrifice, leadership and purpose, and an exploration of how one can serve the people who need you. 

Adrian Scarborough as Francis also puts in an extraordinary performance, particularly when he pours out his life and love to David in an incredibly moving monologue in the final episode. His depiction, and that of Rakie Ayola as Muriel, the parishioner who takes Anna into her home, are the examples of Christianity which closest resemble my own experiences with church goers. They are (largely) people full of love to give; good people who want to help others and who understand the failings of the church, but still see it as a source of strength and grace that compels them to do better.

Falling is filled with lyrical emotion that lifts up the beauty of love, and is charged by an incredible chemistry and believable relationship between Anna and David – as they try to redefine themselves in the face of revelatory feelings that chemistry has ignited. Their journey is a compelling and touching story, filled with warm relationships, which show us that if God exists, He lives within love – whichever form that love takes.

Falling is available now on Channel 4