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I went to a Catholic high school and a Jesuit University. I have
been taught at length about Jesus, worshipped Him alongside fellow
Christians, and, as of my four years in college, spent a lot of
time debating my own faith.
Since
college I have admittedly spent a lot more time in a different
kind of church — the movie theater — than I have at
mass. I guess you could call me a lapsed Catholic, or maybe even
an agnostic.
I
didn’t go to see "The Passion of the Christ" in
order to split hairs about its accuracy in representing the Bible;
I went as a devoted student and fan of the art of film.
And
I left the theater angry.
I
wasn’t angry about the way the Jews are portrayed. As far
as my admittedly non-scholarly eye could see, the Jews in the
film were portrayed in the same manner with which they were written
about in the Bible. There are certainly several ostentatious moments
of Roman kindness towards Jesus, or at least glimpses of Roman
uncertainty about whether His suffering at the hands of the Jewish
mob and controlling Pharisees was merited.
Maybe
there wasn’t as much compassion or deliberation on the part
of the Jews in the film; the argument can certainly be made. But
I don’t think Gibson’s intent was to condemn the Jews.
After all, it was supposed to turn out the way it did, or else
Mel would have nothing to preach about.
And
preach he does.
I
left the theater angry at Gibson’s presumptions, not only
about the details of the last 12 hours of Jesus’ life, but
about what his audience, religious or not, wants to see.
Seeing
this film is not a measure of Christian faith, no matter what
the pompous release date of Ash Wednesday might indicate. Watching
this film is a measure of endurance, for this is a punishmentt.
The fact that the subject is Jesus Christ just makes it all the
more distasteful.
The
level of violence that is presented towards Jesus in this film
is obscene to the point of repulsiveness. It doesn’t matter
whether you treat the Bible as fact or fairy tale; there is little
need for audiences to be assailed with such graphic and lengthy
sequences of torture.
In the middle of the film, Jesus is whipped raw for almost 15
minutes, with director Gibson’s camera invariably positioned
for the best possible close-up of Christ’s bloody wounds.
Jesus carries the cross through the town on the way to Golgotha
for an excruciating long time, collapsing multiple times under
the weight and pain of the ordeal.
Nearly every trickle of blood and smack of flesh is choreographed
and filmed in so fetishistic a manner that you’d think Gibson
was enjoying it.
I
certainly was not.
Despite
the applause this film received in the theater I attended, I don’t
expect it to be treated as a masterpiece of either faith or filmmaking.
It is an offensive, oppressive piece of work that served mainly
to alienate and infuriate this writer for its sheer pretension.
I doubt I have ever seen a film so proud of its violence and so
confident that such bloody depictions of pain and hurt are significant
and necessary for its message. When Quentin Tarantino makes a
violent film, he treats it as a movie and not as a missive from
a true believer.
Is
this really what we need to see in order to believe? Two hours
of graphic abuse? Must Jesus’ martyrdom really be laid bare
so callously?
This
film did little to strengthen my faith in the way that Mel seems
to have intended. Any Christian will enter this with at least
some concept of the pain and suffering Jesus endured in the last
day of his life, and despite the line or two the Bible affords
the event, Gibson decided to give what he apparently feels is
an eyewitness account.
In
so doing, the movie reduces the spiritual and redemptive meaning
of the event down to a visceral, purely physical representation
of torture and pain, with a sense of righteous authority that
neither the director nor any trained theologian or priest could
ever seriously claim.
The
film does not take a comprehensive understanding of the minutiae
of Christ’s suffering in order to have faith in His message.
I doubt this film will convert anyone either to or from the Christian
religion.
The
Passion did change my mind about one thing though. After seeing
several previews and multiple clips of this movie, I went in expecting
a breathtakingly filmed look at one of the premier religious events
of our time. I was confident that the film would deliver as a
conscientious work of art, regardless of the hype.
Caleb
Deschanel’s cinematography is remarkable, and a lot of effort
was clearly spent on presenting a detailed and faithful historical
representation of the time period.
But
the movie fails as both a religious statement and a piece of work.
It
pains me to realize that a lot of people, who would normally never
subject themselves to such graphic and repugnant violence, will
flock to this film in the mistaken belief that it carries a profound
spiritual message. The only message I got from it was one of sadistic
obsession on the part of a fanatic director.
When
I left the film I was more than disappointed, I was dismayed and
disgusted. And I lost whatever respect I had left for Mel Gibson
as a filmmaker.
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