John of God: The Crimes of a Spiritual Healer is a Netflix true crime documentary series from Brazilian filmmakers Mauricio Dias and Tatiana Villela about the titular scoundrel (real name João Teixeira de Faria). Known for decades in South America, João de Deus (John of God) was a prolific medium who claimed to channel the spirits of dozens of doctors, biblical figures (e.g., King Solomon), and others. John of God is perhaps best known for performing psychic surgeries, claiming to treat and remove tumors and disease using only his hands (although in some cases, he also used scalpels or forceps) at his compound in the small Brazilian town of Abadiania.

Dispensing herbal medications and spiritual cleansings to his white-clad staff and followers, he claimed to have treated millions of people since the 1970s. Oprah Winfrey, never shy about promoting pseudoscience and bullshit, endorsed John of God both in her magazine (in 2010) and on her television show in a 2013 segment titled “Do You Believe in Miracles?” In true fleecing fashion, he and his followers sold crystals, herbs, amulets, “healing water,” and other such typical New Age quasi-religious baubles.

The four-part series, in Portuguese with (occasionally awful) English dubbing, is told through archival footage, interviews, newspaper clippings, and some reenactments. The crimes the title refers to are accusations of sexual abuse (involving over 300 alleged victims), much of it done under the guise of healing touches, and some of it in full view of those in the room (although John of God often requested that those present bow their heads and close their eyes to help effect the prayer healings).

The series demonstrates how easy it is to manipulate desperate people and believers—especially in the context of not only spiritual but physical healings. Not everyone believes in the same type of spiritual salvation, but health problems are universal, and curing—or in this case appearing to cure—them can be a profoundly moving experience. Abuse performed under the guise of spiritual healing is nothing new; see, for example, “Psychic Medium Accused of Sexual Exploitation” in the September/October 2012 issue of Skeptical Inquirer. There are parallels to other abusive cults and religions such as those depicted in documentaries such as Wild, Wild Country and Going Clear: Scientology and the Prison of Belief.

The series effectively reveals the pressures that John of God brought to bear on the community, including his own daughter, who appears in the film. She accused him of assaulting her, then recanted (when he arranged for her children to be taken from her), and then later reaffirmed her original accusations. As much as John of God had a spiritual grip on his community, he had strong financial and political ones as well. Rural Brazil is largely impoverished, and when his fame spread, it attracted followers (many with money, coming from America and Europe). This led to a boom in hotels, restaurants, and other local businesses that came to depend on him. John of God became a mini-industry, and there was little incentive to question the local cash cow. A handful of women and men did, however, and eventually police were forced to act. In 2018, under mounting pressure and then seventy-eight, John of God turned himself in to authorities, claiming his innocence. He was sentenced in the following years to over sixty years in prison.

The stories recounted by survivors are appalling, but what’s perhaps even more shocking about John of God: The Crimes of a Spiritual Healer is that the filmmakers buried the lede. Mauricio Dias and Tatiana Villela seem unaware of, or unwilling to expose, the fact that John of God is not a gifted spiritual healer who took advantage of female followers for decades. He is also a fraud; he has no healing powers whatsoever, and not only is there no scientific evidence he healed or cured anyone, but he caused harm when people sought out his services instead of seeking real medical help.

This is important, because the series ends with a few introspective comments by some followers who—however grudgingly—acknowledge that John of God may indeed be guilty of misconduct but are quick to add that he did, after all, heal and save thousands of people. This halfhearted attempt at finding a redemptive silver lining is both misguided and offensive. To be clear, this is not just the story of a sexual predator operating under the guise of religion, a holy healer led astray by greed and lust. John of God is not a flawed conduit of miracles; he’s a fraudulent conduit of malice through and through.

It’s not clear why the filmmakers took this route. Either they were aware of the skeptics’ accusations of fraud against John of God (quite apart from, and predating, the abuse accusations by decades) and unethically chose not to include them, or they were unaware of them and are merely guilty of sloppy research and/or biased presentation. I suspect the answer is that the filmmakers are either true believers in John of God’s miracles or they recognized that many of the victims they interviewed are (which is clear from several of the comments)—and much of their audience likely is. This put them in an awkward ethical and editorial quandary; at least some would likely denounce the film for refuting miracles they sincerely believe occurred, even as they denounced John of God as a predator.

Because John of God: The Crimes of a Spiritual Healer couldn’t be bothered to explain, much less debunk, John of God’s methods and claims, I’ll provide a short summary here. The fact that the “surgeries” were done without anesthetic or severe pain was considered miraculous but is entirely explicable. Contrary to the claims, many of his victim/patients did in fact report feeling some pain and discomfort—at least one patient interviewed on television described “excruciating pain”—but less than they had expected based in part on the amount of blood they saw. But this is simple anatomy; when a short incision is made with a razor or scalpel, the pain will be minimal, far less than with other types of injuries, such as lacerations. Furthermore, injuries to some parts of the body with many nerve endings (such as the scalp) bleed profusely but are relatively painless.

Then of course there are psychological explanations, such as the placebo effect (being told you won’t feel pain can cause you to register little or no pain), and simply being in a heightened state from being in the presence of and “healed” by a famous healer is likely to draw your attention away from pain. There are also social influences; his patients, similar to faith healing recipients in church and on television, are well aware they’re being watched and have incentive to play along—and endure any discomfort and pain—in the same way that participants in stage hypnosis shows follow the hypnotist’s cues.

Claims are presented, without evidence, that the incisions and “surgeries” John of God performed at his rural compound didn’t become infected, which might be remarkable—if it’s true. As with most faith healing cases, there is little if any follow-up, and when there is, it’s usually by skeptical investigators (who are conspicuously absent in this documentary). Faith healers are focused on the performance in the moment, the sensational healings in front of witnesses and cameras in which something seemingly inexplicable and miraculous happened. Medical doctors, on the other hand, are focused on the outcome: Did the treatment actually help the patient, cure the cancer, or remove the tumor or trauma? That is not a question that can be answered in the moment, or even in the hours or days afterward. Tracking whether people were truly healed (or even verifying post-operative infection rates) may take weeks or months of diligent follow-up, something John of God and other faith healers have no incentive to do. Ironically, it’s mainstream doctors—not faith healers—who treat patients like people instead of publicity props.

John of God also did a version of a sideshow stunt called the Blockhead act, in which objects such as tweezers were inserted seemingly at dangerously impossible depths into patients’ skulls, sometimes removing bits of flesh he claimed was diseased. The techniques of psychic surgery are well documented in these pages and in books (such as The Faith Healers by James “the Amazing” Randi) and involve little more than some practiced sleight of hand skills, greatly aided by a fervent desire to believe. (Randi appeared on a 2005 episode of ABC News Primetime to discuss John of God and, as usual, was given less than a minute to refute the myriad claims.)

Overall, John of God: The Crimes of a Spiritual Healer is a mediocre and inadequate look at the life and crimes of João Teixeira de Faria. It offers some insight into how a serial predator could have succeeded for so long but dares not poke the elephant in the room. It’s heartening that some measure of justice was finally brought to bear on this fraudulent faith healer, but John of God’s victims—who number in the thousands, not hundreds—deserve better.