The Passion of the Christ

The Passion poster So last Sunday evening, the first Sunday of Lent, not wanting to feed the beast that is Hollyweird lately and knowing I couldn't resist with LOTR up for Oscars, I chose instead to go and see The Passion. I was not feeling tiptop, there was a storm blowing in, and I was not in a good mood. But at the last minute I called my mom to tell her why I wouldn't be there later, when she would've called. As I was walking out my front door I caught the tip of the middle finger of my left hand on some rough edge and managed at the same time to slam the door on the same finger. It was one of those stupid little wounds that bleeds profusely and hurts, while the symbolism of pricking a fingertip at the beginning of my date with Jesus almost dissuaded me from making the effort. Although I had not wanted to do so, I went to see the movie the first time alone. I am profoundly glad I did it that way. Since I was alone, my initial experience remains undiluted as I write this.

Two friends, separately, asked me what I think. Just remember, you asked.

Before I go any further into a specific critique of the film, let me give some "context" about the baggage I carried with me into the theater: I think most of you know me well enough to appreciate the fact that I am an unreconstructed pagan, even if I am a social conservative. I was raised a Protestant, and my maternal grandparents, with whom I spent several childhood summers, were fundamentalists. I've acquired, over the course of my adult life, some exceedingly thick layers of intellectual conceits that I've used to distance myself from the faith of my immediate ancestors. Many of you have heard me "lecturing" on one or another aspect of these vanities. My purpose in going to see The Passion was, frankly, to see what all the fuss was about. I'd been reading internet scuttlebutt about this movie for months, and I am a longtime fan of Mel Gibson both as an actor and as a director, and the thing just had the smell of a cultural event. While I did not leave the theater feeling like Saul on the road to Damascus, I definitely left feeling like I had experienced something that profoundly challenges me. Many of Passion's images have flitted through my consciousness in the intervening time, and I have thought a lot about what I felt, experienced, saw and have to say about it.

I went to the little theater in downtown Berkeley that is showing it, as I hoped for a ticket without a line to get it. The choice was really a trade-off, as I worried a good deal about protestors in Berkeley. There were no protestors, as such, just some harmless folks wanting to pass out a flyer, and they faded away when I refused. I'd read every internet review I could find, and I recorded Mel's interviews in advance of the release from a variety of sources, so I figured I could finally walk into the theater without a flyer. There was no line and no trouble getting a ticket. The house was about half full. The trailers were the usual crap that "the industry" puts out, but I couldn't help noticing the films being advertised were offering Hollywood's &/or Europe's ideas of religion/family values. I began to feel a bit queasy.

Then The Passion of the Christ began.

Let me answer for you, as I see them, the charges made against this film. I almost rewrote that last sentence to say, the criticisms or reasons to not see this movie, but actually, "charges made against" is truer.

Anti-Semitism

To be perfectly honest, if I were Jewish, I might very well have felt The Passion to be anti-Semitic. Certainly, the portrait of the Hebrew priesthood of Jerusalem is an ugly one, with the priests indulging themselves in murderous political maneuverings in order to eliminate the threat of Jesus' radicalism to their authority. The image of Judas gathering the spilt 30 pieces does play to a low stereotype. And while Mel was telling an historic truth (Ceasar had enjoined Pilate, twice, to reduce the number of crucifixions in his jurisdiction) and a Gospel truth (the attempt to evade responsibility by washing his hands of Jesus' fate) in portraying Pilate as vacillating, there is an imbalance to the intensity of motive between the two that renders Caiaphas as the more active agent in the murder.

Nevertheless, the hue and cry that has gone out against this film is exceedingly undeserved, in my view. First of all, I think that the actor playing Caiaphas is a better actor than the actor playing Pilate, although that does not entirely excuse Gibson's directorial choices in depicting the plot against Jesus. No one in this movie, excepting only Mary Magdalene and John, looks particularly good. The Romans, as compared to the Jews, demonstrate a far more base contempt for Jesus as they literally, and with frightening pleasure, beat him within an inch of his life. Nothing else I've ever seen compares to the cruelty of the crucifixion scenes. Should Italians, and Italian-Americans be howling about this portrayal of the grandfather of their culture? I know there is no history of the charge of deicide against the Romans/Italians — in fact the capital of the religion of Jesus, through the agency of Peter and Paul, moved from Jerusalem to Rome — but think how often Hollywood has made a fortune from the mafioso stereotype. For that matter, and to the best of my knowledge no one else has remarked on the fact, the only followers of Jesus, in this film, who do not fail him are women, specifically Mary Magdalene and Veronica. All his male disciples, even John, fail Jesus in one way or another, while Simon of Cyrene is conscripted. What are we to make of that salient little fact? Most important, again my opinion but something that has not been given enough attention, is the fact that the movie clearly shows the transformation of Caiaphas and the other conspirators as the reality of the consequences of their actions is played out before their eyes. In fact, the doubts of the priests are given far more visual representation than those of the Roman soldiers who carry out the torture and crucifixion. This representation of ultimate doubt and regret satisfies one of the great principles of Western drama, that all characters in a story should be changed by the action of the narrative. Therefore, the charge of premeditated and unmitigated anti-Semitism breaks down when compared to the internal symbolic logic of the entire film.

Someone writing on FreeRepublic.com shortly before Passion's release described the movie as a nuclear bomb dropped into the middle of the (current, American) culture war. Jewish reviewers of this film who panned it, citing primarily that it revives the charge of deicide against the Jews, should've seen the movie first, or better still, seen it for a second time before making that charge. Do American Jews really want to deny their Christian fellow-citizens from having a piece of art that reflects, pretty accurately, the core theology of their religion? I hope not, not when so much of the world is already divided along religious lines, with many of those lines pointing like an accusatory arrow at Israel. A lot of Palestinians are, or were, Christians after all.

Looks to me like, given that as of today Passion has taken in 2 million, the Christian majority of America has just voted with its collective wallet that the only Jew they will listen to is the protagonist of this movie.

Furthermore, in thinking about the whole anti-Semitic argument, the cynic in me wonders if a few weeks or months down the line, when The Passion is closing in on 0 million or better domestically, whether a lot of these same critics won't be hedging their intemperate remarks by using the line, "yeah, I panned it then, but look what the controversy did for the box office — my column must've grossed another million for Mel...." Certainly the hysteria in the media as the release of this film approached induced me to see it, whereas I doubt I would've raced out to spend my money if there hadn't been such a controversy. Will Hollywood Jews eventually get on board with a box-office winner by claiming to have been party to a great marketing campaign, even if inadvertently?

Ultimately, the only real answer to this charge that I can offer you is that when I came out of that theater the last thing I was thinking about was any vestigial culpability for a political murder that happened 2,000 years ago residing in my contemporary Jewish friends.

Violence

It goes without saying that The Passion is a violent film. But is it sadistic or pornographic, as some latter day converts to tender sensibility have insisted? To this charge I can unequivocally answer "No!" The violence in this film has a specific and well-defined purpose that is at the core of the story being told, and this is made vividly clear in the very first sequence, in the garden.

I believe the critics who are fussing about what a violent film this is are being too precious by half. I have yet to see one of these blowhards fail to distinguish their unfettered admiration for "Kill Bill" with the obvious canard that the violence in that travesty is cartoon-ish, not real, and therefore not threatening. The real problem for the Hollywood critics is this: the violence in Passion is all about its purpose, it is historically valid, and it reflects some transcendent truths. That makes the unending and preferred, much too frequently teen-oriented, gore festivals of Hollywood look like exactly what they are: the sick self-indulgences of overpaid, pampered elitists, out of touch with anything of value. And this they cannot endure. Thus, at least some of, the histrionics over The Passion.

Just to be clear on this point: I would not allow my mother to watch this film because it is entirely too graphic in its depiction of what, exactly, a crucifixion amounted to. Long before this movie was made I'd read a number of different descriptions of what crucifixion entailed physiologically, and there is nothing in what is shown here that is not accurate. Since I have never been able to tolerate slasher films, I expected that I might have to walk out early, but I was actually surprised by how easily I was able to take in what was being presented. The torture scene(s) did not seem to amount to anything like the reported 45 minutes. On the other hand, I watched a couple of the "making of" shows that aired before Passion's release, so I was able to distance myself from some of the immediacy of the bloodletting depicted by resorting to judging technical achievement in make-up. There was only one scene at which I had to turn away — I won't say which. In the final analysis, I didn't feel so much repulsed or sickened by what I was watching, I just felt beaten up. That is somewhat problematic, but it is not a reason to avoid the movie.

Context

A number of critics have resorted to complaining that there was not enough depiction of the teachings of Jesus to give meaning to the sacrifice he was making. To this charge I have two responses. First, I find the complaint of insufficient context to be a misreading of the art in what's being shown. I believe that Gibson's use of flashbacks, as the way he tells the story of Jesus' ministry, may be the most economical and artistically successful application of this cinema convention ever filmed. One of the important reasons to see this movie more than once is to look at where the flashback scenes fall, vis-à-vis the main story line; for now I can't offer more along that line. My point is that I did not feel cheated by the omission of any important elements of the story, the movie is a dramatic whole.

Second, upon viewing Passion, it seems to me that a higher standard is being demanded of Gibson by some critics, with regard to historic, textual accuracy, than was done of, for example, Scorcese. I find this not especially surprising, but it is disturbing when the tone in the rest of some reviewers' critiques causes you to imagine them foaming at the mouth as they privately prepared their reviews. As with the it's-too-violent argument, actually seeing the movie, perhaps even more than once if necessary, would've been helpful here.

Likewise the criticisms of the use of language, disparaging the resort to Aramaic and Latin, and the complaint that Jesus, Caiaphas and Pilot would've actually spoken Greek to each other, I found to be without merit. While it may well be historically more likely that all the parties would've spoken Greek, the use of Latin and Aramaic in the trial settings is not implausible. It should be noted that the principle accuser, in re the use of archaic languages, is a man named Dominic Crossen, a former Catholic priest who, I believe, worked on some of the translating of The Dead Sea Scrolls. I happen to have seen him interviewed about other things concerning the development of early Christianity, and believe me, this guy has agendas — from what I can tell, none of them nice. Besides, from the very first scene, I simply reveled in the archaic feeling that hearing the Latin and Aramaic imparted to the overall story. I was pleasantly surprised at how much of the Latin I recognized, having not actively studied it since high school. I look forward to acquiring the dvd in order to listen more closely to the dialogue.

Bottom Line

So, what did I think of The Passion myself, after filtering out all the pre-release controversy? I can say without reservation that this is a masterpiece, comparable to D. W. Griffiths' The Birth of a Nation, or Jean Renoir's The Rules of the Game. I believe Passion is the most accurate account of the Jesus of the Gospels ever put to film. I believe it should be seen by everyone interested in cinema and/or religion, whatever your personal belief. This is a visually and emotionally powerful film, one filled with symbolism and subtext that cannot be taken in with only one viewing.

Ok, those are the bouquets. Now for the darts: Although I said earlier that I left the movie feeling challenged, I did not leave with a sense of transcendence, as I had done, albeit in response to a completely different mythology, a few weeks earlier after viewing the final chapter of Lord of the Rings. In fact, I exited The Passion feeling kind of flat. I was startled by how uninspired I felt afterwards, especially since I found so many of the images haunting, and I've thought about that flat feeling quite a bit in the intervening time. I have identified a few, small criticisms of the movie, but even in the aggregate they don't entirely explain my take-away feeling.

First of all, I felt the special effects^[1], while they were relatively few in number, were intrusive and distracted from the rest of the cinema verite storytelling. I wasn't put off by most of the effects used to illuminate Satan/Mephistopheles, and the scene in the garden is gripping. But the scene of the false Madonna was jarring, and at the same time spurious — it angered me, actually, because it seemed a wholly unnecessary departure from the Gospels-based story line. And whereas with all the other characters pure acting conveyed the emotional power of the events portrayed, the special effects used with Judas were just too obvious, and they really disrupted the narrative, precisely because they subordinated the actor to the effects. Finally in this regard, the resurrection scene struck me as being cobbled onto the rest of the movie, almost an afterthought, a scene once again undermined by a special-effects contrivance — theologically correct, but a contrivance nonetheless.

Secondly, while I think Mel succeeded overall in his mission to show the human, masculine person of Jesus, the actress who played Mary, Maia Morgenstern stole the show. Eventually I got to a point watching the film where I realized I was more enthralled by her acting than by the rest of the storytelling. In the Protestant tradition in which I was raised Mary is subordinated, even marginalized; certainly I don't possess the Catholic habit of adoring the Blessed Mother, so perhaps I'm not the best person to make this critique. Jim Caviezel does a magnificent job with the role of Jesus, and it is not his fault that he must be passive and reactive throughout most of the story, but in the end it did bother me that so much of what seemed redeeming about this movie came not from Jesus' sacrifice but from Mary's fortitude and steadfastness. (And the irony of me saying this, since I have been a Goddess worshipper for over 30 years, is not small!) This is the one instance where I will agree that the graphic violence takes away from the meaning in the story. Perhaps Mary was so arresting for me because she represented the relief I needed, but Ms. Morgenstern's face is the most compelling and beautiful that I've seen in a long, long time.

Tangential to the discussion of the role of Mary, I was asked by one of my friends about the role of Magdalene in this film — i.e., why wasn't she more central to the story as it's told here? My reply is that I'll be happy to go see The DaVinci Code when it comes out. There really isn't a greater role for Magdalene in this narrative. The Gospels reflect only the very earliest phases of the religion we know as Christianity, which is to say that they are comprised only of the original teachings of Jesus and the early rescension of Paul, which took those teachings to the Gentiles. And no, I haven't forgotten that the Gospels in the Bible are the result of heavy Church editing, I'm just taking them as they are for the purpose of viewing the movie. While I believe Paul did try to syncretize Jesus the Christ with other extant Mediterranean avatar cults, he surely didn't act in order to elevate Mary or Magdalene. (Ok, ok, sorry, here endeth the lesson....) I think whatever goddess elements are visualized in this film are entirely accidental and were not intended by Gibson. It will be interesting to see what movie he does next, though.

The question about the role of Magdalene does remind me, however, that there is one traditional Christian symbol that screamed at me by its total absence from the crucifixion scene. I don't want to give it away, and I think it's obvious anyway. Like I said, it will be most edifying to see what comes next from Mel.

Third, Gibson said he wanted to make a film that was a living Carravagio painting, and in this he succeeds. In fact, in a couple of long shots, I was transported not to ancient Palestine, but rather to medieval Tuscany. There is as well the homage to Michaelangelo's Pieta toward the end. These visual elements didn't distract me as much as some other things, since the movie is a modern continuation of the passion play traditions of the Middle Ages. It's just that I noticed them at the time, which ideally I shouldn't have done.

At present, I can't judge whether these small criticisms I've made will stand up to a second or third viewing. Nor do I believe that they, even when combined with the feeling of being beaten up by the extreme violence, entirely account for my sense of anti-catharsis. From a purely technical point of view, the film fulfills two important criteria of Aristotelian dramatic structure: It occurs in a continuous twelve hour time period, and it concerns that which is noble (son of g-d, bringer of universal salvation). And as I mentioned earlier, all the characters are transformed by the action of the narrative. I did later realize that there is a dramatic beat missing between "Father, why hast thou forsaken me?" and Jesus giving up the ghost, but it is so subtle that I doubt others even noticed it. The movie likewise follows the classic structure of a passion play, faithfully. It is the Stations of the Cross brought to life. For me personally, the flaws are a good thing, as they keep the movie a work of art, and prevent it from becoming the tool of anyone's agenda, whether noble or nefarious. I rather imagine that to believing Christians this movie is nothing but inspiration. That it will not persuade anyone not so inclined is witnessed by all the negative reviews.

A couple of nights after I wrote all the previous, I woke up in the dark and realized what it was that, honestly, disappointed me about Passion. Fact is, I left the theater thinking more about sin than salvation. Which is to say, I walked away just as much a misanthrope as when I walked in. I felt the pathos, but not the promise, and that was the entirety and the limit of my artistic, even my spiritual response.

So, while I highly recommend seeing this movie, and even believe it should be seen more than once, I find it not a perfect work of art. In my judgment, Passion is lacking, oddly enough, in the cathartic element that is so necessary to resolution in drama, and because it requires an acceptance of Christianity to be fully inspirational, The Passion must remain a qualified masterpiece.

As with all things in the realms of art and religion, judge for yourselves. I will enjoy hearing from any of you when you've seen it.