THE PASSION OF THE CHRIST

Rating: 2

There is a reason that the early church did not make the cross its primary symbol. Early tombs display the friendlier, more positive images of the fish, as in, to quote Jesus, “go forth and be fishers of men”, and the good shepherd, as in, again quoting “I am the good shepherd.” People in that time and in that place had a first- or at least second-hand knowledge of just what a crucifixion entailed and dwelling on it didn’t seem politic. It may have been part of the reason why Christianity beat out its nearest rival, the Cult of Mithras, to become the state religion of the Roman Empire. That Christmas is celebrated on the date traditionally associated Mithras’ birthday is another story.
Much has been bruited about this movie. Filmed by Mel Gibson in Aramaic, the language of Jesus, Hebrew, and Latin, he was unwilling to use subtitles, and, moreover, dwelt in what can only be described as loving detail on the minutia of Jesus’ torture and death. It had trouble finding a distributor, but once the negative publicity started, it was just a matter of time before someone stepped in and brought the film to the local cineplex for the public to see what all the fuss was about. Here’s the scoop. It is not, as I had feared, two hours and seven minutes of a man being tortured to death, though the hour that does dwell on the gruesomeness of the execution more than makes up for it. It’s also, and I speak as a Jew, not particularly anti-Semitic, at least not to the extent that some sources have claimed. Not that the High Priests come off looking particularly good as they goad Pilate (Hristo Naumov Shopov) into condemning Jesus to death by crucifixion for the crime of blasphemy. Actually, it was not just any crime, but had always been a capital crime and merely speaking the proper name of God unless you were the High Priest in the Holy of Holies where the Ark of the Covenant resides, was considered blasphemous. Naturally, Jesus’ claiming to be the only begotten son of God would be a problem for them. People who don’t know that bit of history might come away from the film misinterpreting the bloodlust. That they demanded crucifixion is less historically certain. Stoning was more usual, as exemplified by the woman taken in adultery, here identified as Mary Magdalene (Monica Belluci). The Romans fare much worse. They are either, like Pilate, ineffectual cream puffs blowing whichever way the political winds are wafting, or leering, drunken sadists. In short, anyone who was not a follower of Jesus was more or less, morally lacking.
The story itself is taken from the four Gospels with additional material provided from sources such as work by a notoriously anti-Semitic 19th-century Catholic mystic. Her contribution is a scene where Jesus is thrown off a bridge by the Romans and as the bottom sees Judas, now lost in despair for having betrayed Jesus. For the rest, there is Pilate’s washing of his hands, Peter’s denial of Jesus three times, and all the other vignettes traditionally included in films of this sort, including a prurient visit to the stoned-out decadence of Herod’s court.
There isn’t much to say about James Caviezel’s performance as Jesus except that he suffers beautifully. The fleeting moments when he is not being flailed, nailed, or otherwise tormented are given over to a calm style of preaching and one moment of shuddering fear, almost the first of the film, as Jesus is facing his fears about what is to come and he asks Peter to not summon the other disciples because he doesn’t want them to see him like that. Maia Morgenstern as Mary has a resolved grief with tears welling from her eyes as her lips are set in determined acceptance.
Gibson does a credible job as the director. He creates a dreamscape as nightmare that opens in the moody atmospherics of fog and darkness, and then builds to the searing light and pain of the crucifixion. It, like the antique languages used, serves to plunge the audience into the unreality of a mythic tale, yet does not diminish the immediacy of the pain depicted. It is a landscape where demons dwell, glimpsed sometimes only for a moment, sometimes staring us down, particularly an androgynous figure with shaved eyebrows who tempts and taunts Jesus about the dubious success of being able to save all the souls in the world. It’s suitably creepy save for a vision Jesus has while being flogged. The figure is shown cradling a midget like a baby, the midget smiles grotesquely and displays scars that the flogging Jesus endures might leave. I have no clue about what it meant and neither did the Catholic sitting beside me.
Slow motion is used to heighten moments, such as the High Priests flinging the thirty pieces of silver at Judas, and most of the flogging, where the skin on Jesus’ body is turned to hamburger and the bones of his ribs peek through. Deadly close-ups bring into even greater focus the wounds inflicted, not just the nails going through Jesus’ hands and feet, but the crown of thorns being hammered into place by a Roman soldier, and, later, the same crown and the nails, dripping blood, arranged as a still life for several seconds of screen time.
Contrast that with an inspiration that is genuinely intriguing. When Mary awakes with a start after Jesus is arrested, her first question to Mary Magdalene is from the traditional Passover Seder, “Why is this night different from all other nights?” and the Magdalene’s answer is also the traditional one, tying in the fact that the Last Supper was, in fact, a Seder. Less obvious is why the film has Pilate speaking Hebrew to the High Priests, but only Latin to Jesus. A chance, perhaps, to use the classic Vulgate for that most salient of questions “What is truth?” (Quid est veritas?)? A more obvious symbol, and irony, is to place Golgotha in the same spot as where the Sermon on the Mount took place. As Jesus approaches, he flashes back to his sermon about loving one’s enemies.
There are several such flashbacks to Jesus’ childhood and ministry, but none long enough. This is not a film about that ministry of peace and love, but rather, about a horrific death suffered on a cross. Even the Resurrection, the triumph over death, is accorded a scant twelve seconds of screen time. And so it leaves me wondering for whom this film is intended. A bloodbath, such as one sees in any slasher flick peopled by hormonally driven teenagers and scary monsters, doesn’t seem a likely vehicle for conversion of the unbelievers. Gibson has said that meditating on the Passion healed him spiritually and he wanted to do the same for others. I can’t speak to the theology of that. You either get it or you don’t. For the rest of us, the film will show you how Jesus died, but will do nothing to convey why he inspired such violent feelings in both those who followed him and in those who hated him. The ultimate contradiction of THE PASSION OF THE CHRIST is that a film about the Prince of Peace is violent enough to earn an R rating. If one thought about it long enough, there are volumes of theology in that.