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A messianic migraine
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Mel Gibson's "The Passion of the Christ" is an extremely gory, troubling epic.
By: MARGI HERWALD Staff Reporter
"I'm going to like this," I thought with surprise as I watched the opening scene of the highly controversial, long-anticipated Mel Gibson opus "The Passion of the Christ." As Jesus prays in the garden of Gethsemane, he is tempted by a creepy, eyebrow-less woman representing Satan. It is tense, arty and incredibly engaging.
From there it all goes downhill ... spiraling into an orgy of blood and pain, punctuated with troubling images and archaic stereotypes. After the first seven minutes of intrigue, I spent the last two hours of "The Passion of the Christ" either rolling or averting my eyes.
"The Passion of the Christ" is in Aramaic, Latin and Hebrew with (thank goodness) English subtitles. It tells of the last 12 hours in the life of Jesus Christ (Jim Caviezel). During this period, the carpenter who claimed to be the son of God is arrested; put through a farce of a trial; beaten to a bloody pulp with fists, sticks, whips and a sort of cat-o-nine tails; dismissed by a decadently drunk, effeminate King Herod; sentenced to death due to mob pressure; taunted and tempted by the eyebrow-less Satan woman carrying a freakish-looking evil baby; beaten more as he weakly drags a wooden cross through Jerusalem to Golgotha; and nailed to the cross. Most of this in vivid, gory detail. While a crow pecks out the eyes of another condemned man who failed to accept Jesus, the would-be messiah is left to hang on his cross for quite a long while until, mercifully, he dies.
This movie is rated R for a reason. The violence is unrelenting. The screen is constantly awash in blood. Gibson seems obsessed with how Jesus suffered to redeem the sins of Christians, focusing solely on that and ignoring any of the reasons why or how the man became an inspiration and a god-like figure to some - and a threat to others.
In an effort to provide at least some respite from flying lumps of flesh, dislocated arms and the fountains of gore that flow from underneath a crown of thorns and the point of a spear, Gibson offers a few brief flashbacks to Jesus' life before the Passion. We see him quietly predicting his death and creating the concept of transubstantiation during the Last Supper.
In a dialogue-free scene he makes his first connection with Mary Magdalen (Monica Bellucci); and in an odd non-sequitur depicting Jesus' close relationship with his mother Mary (Maia Morgenstern) he invents our modern kitchen table. (No, I'm not making that up.)
As a cinephile, I can honestly say the film features some beautiful cinematography, particularly in the atmospheric, blue-cast Gethsemane. The music, much of it carrying a slight Middle Eastern flavor and featuring the typical wailing voice that so often soars behind movie heroes like Russell Crowe or Gibson himself, is also rather effective. Gibson uses some creative, upside-down, dizzily moving shots to show us the world through Jesus' eyes as he's dragged through the streets or tumbles to the ground in pain.
However, the one-dimensional acting and storytelling kills any excuse a cinephile has to revere this film for its art separate from its religious message. While Caviezel, Morgenstern and Bellucci are effective performers, all they are required to do is suffer, suffer, suffer, moaning and sobbing while glycerin tears cut clean rivulets down their dirt and/or blood-stained faces.
They are among the Good Characters, those who see the majesty in Jesus and therefore, suffer, suffer, suffer. The Bad Characters, however, are so bad, they might as well twirl pointy, black moustaches.
Evil Jews and Romans, those who do not accept or have no sympathy for Jesus, grunt and growl and point and scream. They laugh raucously as he suffers, suffers, suffers... some soldiers even exulting as his blood splashes upon them. They boo and hiss, wag their tongues and bulge their eyes. It is what acting teachers refer to as "indicating," or making a show of a character's surface traits rather than attempting to reach a realistic, emotional place.
The Romans are far crueler in deed than the Jews. They enjoy watching a chunk of Jesus' flesh fly from his side as he is scourged, and they whip and taunt him ruthlessly as he walks the Stations of the Cross. The Romans are clad in light armor, clean-shaven with short-cropped hair and ... well, they're not that bright. Basically, they're mean-spirited, good-looking boys who were just following orders.
The Jews, however, are dark and stooped under the weight of their heavy beards and heavier semitic robes. They aren't dumb muscle like the Roman guards. They are calculating, lying outright to Romans when they first take Jesus into custody, claiming he's just a common thief. They are angry from the get-go, pushing and violently screaming at each other, at their high priest Caiphas, Roman governor Pontius Pilate, Jesus, or whomever else is nearby. They are unrepentantly bloodthirsty.
And since Gibson shows very little of Jesus' teachings, miracles and acts of kindness, and none of the socio-political upheaval his messianic claim caused, the vitriol and bloodlust of these "vicious," scraggly-bearded Jews seems completely unjustified.
Much has been made of the culpability in Jesus' death of two men: Caiphas, a Jew, and Pilate, a Roman. The Gospels portray Caiphas as the driving force behind Jesus' execution, and Pilate as a thoughtful, conflicted leader who bows to popular pressure, symbolically washing his hands of guilt in Jesus' death. This, despite historical evidence that Caiphas was actually a relatively powerless bureaucrat, and Pilate was renowned for his brutality and his itchy crucifying finger.
It has always been a controversial subject, as the Gospels have Caiphas and the Jewish mob gladly accepting Jesus' blood on their souls and the souls of all the following generations of Jews. It is a notion the Catholic Church formally disavowed in the mid-1960s.
Gibson's Pilate (Hristo Naumov Shopov) is troubling because he is so sympathetic and so concerned for Jesus in juxtaposition to an incredibly and inexplicably venal Caiphas (Mattia Sbragia).
From the cross, Jesus directs his famous line, "Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do," directly to an unmoved Caiphas.
The most controversial element of the Passion story is the actual Gospel text in which the Jews eagerly take blame for Jesus' death. In "The Passion," that quote was supposedly excised to avoid offending Jewish viewers. However, the film still depicts Pilate washing his hands of guilt and proclaiming his innocence, followed by a shout from Caiphas and a raucous cheer from the crowd. Neither Caiphas' nor the crowd's dialogue is translated, but the implication of their sentiments remains crystal clear.
Two hours after viewing "The Passion of the Christ," I went to the grocery store to buy a few items, and the strangest thing happened to me. I was intellectually convinced that the film had not bothered me as a Jew, that my negative response was to the vats and vats of movie blood that splashed across the screen as Jesus was ripped to shreds.
But, as I walked through the store, I found my eyes darting suspiciously from one shopper to the other, wondering what they believed and what they took as truth. I actually wondered who in that store would blame me for the death of their Lord, if they somehow knew that I was Jewish.
A woman in my row at the press screening sobbed through the whole crucifixion sequence. Viewers interviewed on the 11 p.m. news hailed the film for bringing them closer to their Lord and described it as a true story, although I personally cannot recall an eyebrow-less Satan woman with demon children in any version of the Bible or history book.
I realized that what I found disturbing is moving others to religious ecstasy and tears. I'm still working on being open-minded and not being frightened by that.
Two cups of coffee, three episodes of "Law & Order," and a scorching migraine later, I went to bed, my mind still troubled and fixated on "The Passion of the Christ." Is it antisemitic? Not blatantly, and in Gibson's mind, probably not intentionally. Did it make me uncomfortable? Yes. Way more than I ever expected.
"The Passion of the Christ" is now playing in 2,800 theaters across the country, including several in the Cleveland area.
By: MARGI HERWALD Staff Reporter
"I'm going to like this," I thought with surprise as I watched the opening scene of the highly controversial, long-anticipated Mel Gibson opus "The Passion of the Christ." As Jesus prays in the garden of Gethsemane, he is tempted by a creepy, eyebrow-less woman representing Satan. It is tense, arty and incredibly engaging.
From there it all goes downhill ... spiraling into an orgy of blood and pain, punctuated with troubling images and archaic stereotypes. After the first seven minutes of intrigue, I spent the last two hours of "The Passion of the Christ" either rolling or averting my eyes.
"The Passion of the Christ" is in Aramaic, Latin and Hebrew with (thank goodness) English subtitles. It tells of the last 12 hours in the life of Jesus Christ (Jim Caviezel). During this period, the carpenter who claimed to be the son of God is arrested; put through a farce of a trial; beaten to a bloody pulp with fists, sticks, whips and a sort of cat-o-nine tails; dismissed by a decadently drunk, effeminate King Herod; sentenced to death due to mob pressure; taunted and tempted by the eyebrow-less Satan woman carrying a freakish-looking evil baby; beaten more as he weakly drags a wooden cross through Jerusalem to Golgotha; and nailed to the cross. Most of this in vivid, gory detail. While a crow pecks out the eyes of another condemned man who failed to accept Jesus, the would-be messiah is left to hang on his cross for quite a long while until, mercifully, he dies.
This movie is rated R for a reason. The violence is unrelenting. The screen is constantly awash in blood. Gibson seems obsessed with how Jesus suffered to redeem the sins of Christians, focusing solely on that and ignoring any of the reasons why or how the man became an inspiration and a god-like figure to some - and a threat to others.
In an effort to provide at least some respite from flying lumps of flesh, dislocated arms and the fountains of gore that flow from underneath a crown of thorns and the point of a spear, Gibson offers a few brief flashbacks to Jesus' life before the Passion. We see him quietly predicting his death and creating the concept of transubstantiation during the Last Supper.
In a dialogue-free scene he makes his first connection with Mary Magdalen (Monica Bellucci); and in an odd non-sequitur depicting Jesus' close relationship with his mother Mary (Maia Morgenstern) he invents our modern kitchen table. (No, I'm not making that up.)
As a cinephile, I can honestly say the film features some beautiful cinematography, particularly in the atmospheric, blue-cast Gethsemane. The music, much of it carrying a slight Middle Eastern flavor and featuring the typical wailing voice that so often soars behind movie heroes like Russell Crowe or Gibson himself, is also rather effective. Gibson uses some creative, upside-down, dizzily moving shots to show us the world through Jesus' eyes as he's dragged through the streets or tumbles to the ground in pain.
However, the one-dimensional acting and storytelling kills any excuse a cinephile has to revere this film for its art separate from its religious message. While Caviezel, Morgenstern and Bellucci are effective performers, all they are required to do is suffer, suffer, suffer, moaning and sobbing while glycerin tears cut clean rivulets down their dirt and/or blood-stained faces.
They are among the Good Characters, those who see the majesty in Jesus and therefore, suffer, suffer, suffer. The Bad Characters, however, are so bad, they might as well twirl pointy, black moustaches.
Evil Jews and Romans, those who do not accept or have no sympathy for Jesus, grunt and growl and point and scream. They laugh raucously as he suffers, suffers, suffers... some soldiers even exulting as his blood splashes upon them. They boo and hiss, wag their tongues and bulge their eyes. It is what acting teachers refer to as "indicating," or making a show of a character's surface traits rather than attempting to reach a realistic, emotional place.
The Romans are far crueler in deed than the Jews. They enjoy watching a chunk of Jesus' flesh fly from his side as he is scourged, and they whip and taunt him ruthlessly as he walks the Stations of the Cross. The Romans are clad in light armor, clean-shaven with short-cropped hair and ... well, they're not that bright. Basically, they're mean-spirited, good-looking boys who were just following orders.
The Jews, however, are dark and stooped under the weight of their heavy beards and heavier semitic robes. They aren't dumb muscle like the Roman guards. They are calculating, lying outright to Romans when they first take Jesus into custody, claiming he's just a common thief. They are angry from the get-go, pushing and violently screaming at each other, at their high priest Caiphas, Roman governor Pontius Pilate, Jesus, or whomever else is nearby. They are unrepentantly bloodthirsty.
And since Gibson shows very little of Jesus' teachings, miracles and acts of kindness, and none of the socio-political upheaval his messianic claim caused, the vitriol and bloodlust of these "vicious," scraggly-bearded Jews seems completely unjustified.
Much has been made of the culpability in Jesus' death of two men: Caiphas, a Jew, and Pilate, a Roman. The Gospels portray Caiphas as the driving force behind Jesus' execution, and Pilate as a thoughtful, conflicted leader who bows to popular pressure, symbolically washing his hands of guilt in Jesus' death. This, despite historical evidence that Caiphas was actually a relatively powerless bureaucrat, and Pilate was renowned for his brutality and his itchy crucifying finger.
It has always been a controversial subject, as the Gospels have Caiphas and the Jewish mob gladly accepting Jesus' blood on their souls and the souls of all the following generations of Jews. It is a notion the Catholic Church formally disavowed in the mid-1960s.
Gibson's Pilate (Hristo Naumov Shopov) is troubling because he is so sympathetic and so concerned for Jesus in juxtaposition to an incredibly and inexplicably venal Caiphas (Mattia Sbragia).
From the cross, Jesus directs his famous line, "Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do," directly to an unmoved Caiphas.
The most controversial element of the Passion story is the actual Gospel text in which the Jews eagerly take blame for Jesus' death. In "The Passion," that quote was supposedly excised to avoid offending Jewish viewers. However, the film still depicts Pilate washing his hands of guilt and proclaiming his innocence, followed by a shout from Caiphas and a raucous cheer from the crowd. Neither Caiphas' nor the crowd's dialogue is translated, but the implication of their sentiments remains crystal clear.
Two hours after viewing "The Passion of the Christ," I went to the grocery store to buy a few items, and the strangest thing happened to me. I was intellectually convinced that the film had not bothered me as a Jew, that my negative response was to the vats and vats of movie blood that splashed across the screen as Jesus was ripped to shreds.
But, as I walked through the store, I found my eyes darting suspiciously from one shopper to the other, wondering what they believed and what they took as truth. I actually wondered who in that store would blame me for the death of their Lord, if they somehow knew that I was Jewish.
A woman in my row at the press screening sobbed through the whole crucifixion sequence. Viewers interviewed on the 11 p.m. news hailed the film for bringing them closer to their Lord and described it as a true story, although I personally cannot recall an eyebrow-less Satan woman with demon children in any version of the Bible or history book.
I realized that what I found disturbing is moving others to religious ecstasy and tears. I'm still working on being open-minded and not being frightened by that.
Two cups of coffee, three episodes of "Law & Order," and a scorching migraine later, I went to bed, my mind still troubled and fixated on "The Passion of the Christ." Is it antisemitic? Not blatantly, and in Gibson's mind, probably not intentionally. Did it make me uncomfortable? Yes. Way more than I ever expected.
"The Passion of the Christ" is now playing in 2,800 theaters across the country, including several in the Cleveland area.
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