The Passion of the Christ

After a year of gossip, months of controversy, weeks of previews, at last The Passion of the Christ is finally out, and can finally be judged on its own merits, rather than the secondhand accounts which have long been trickling out. And, to me at least, the film is neither as violent as it has been built up to be, nor as powerful as I hoped.

That's not to say that the film is without its merits. In fact, I would be hard pressed to be overly critical of the film; it's hard to deny its power, or the clear labor, faith, and devotion Mel Gibson has poured into the film. It is beautifully filmed, and Gibson's decision to film it all in dead languages does its job of plunging you into the time of Christ. There is a command of visuals rarely seen--or, at least, given time and attention--in films anymore. The film, quite simply, is a visually stunning piece of art.

And yet...

First of all, the violence issue. The film is, as advertised, violent. And yet, I think all of the buildup, all the talk, all the anticipation has built the movie up to a point where I expected buckets and buckets of blood to simply pour all over the screen...and that doesn't happen. There's a lot of violence, no doubt (and occasionally Gibson seems to add more than he really needs--for instance, when one of the thieves crucified with Christ has his eyes plucked out by crows, one can't help but feel that this wasn't really important to the story). I think what has left the violent impression on people is the sheer realism of the violence--this is not played for cartoony laughs, a la Kill Bill. This is violence intended to show the effects of violence. But after a certain point in the film, it becomes so inundating and unrelenting as to no longer be effective. There are still moments of gut-wrenching pain--at least one scene during the scourging sequence, and the actual crucifixion, are incredibly horrifying. But it is the sheer intensity and prevalence, not the degree of violence, that has earned the film its reputation.

As for the film itself...it has moments that touch. There are flashbacks which show Jesus prior to the final 12 hours of his life, and these bring him to life in a way that the rest of the film does not. There is an early flashback which shows him still living at home and speaking with his mother that makes Jesus more of a "real person" than any other depiction I have ever seen. But, the very nature of the film--the fact that it limits itself largely to the final 12 hours of Christ's life--makes it hard to connect with Jesus in any way. He becomes simply an abuse sponge. Rather than a savior, he becomes simply a tortured soul. It becomes hard to remember him as anything other than a victim. Gibson's flashbacks occasionally remind the viewer that the person they are seeing tortured is more than just a man, but without any sort of introductory time to get to know him, he simply becomes someone whose job is to die.

And that he does. If Gibson's intent was to make Christians and others realize the pain, suffering, and torment that Christ's final hours were made up of, then it worked. He makes the viewer realize that the crucifixion, a central part of the faith, was not just a sacrifice--it was a painful, brutal, degrading experience. That should, in of itself, remind people that faith is not without a cost. (My mom made the comment that never again would she partake of communion lightly, or without reflection; I think Gibson would be proud.)

But the problem is that there is never an emotional connection to Jesus. With no previous display of his good works, or his teaching, even the occasional flashbacks only work for moments before the viewer is shoved back into the passion play.

The film does have one major, devastating moral core, however, and that is Maia Morgenstern's Mary. Her performance as a mother watching the unthinkable happen to her son is beyond heartbreaking. She brings the film the human connection it needs, and it is she who continued to haunt me after I left the theater. She conveys more with her eyes than any number of speeches could ever attempt to say, and it is impossible to leave without finding yourself crushed by her performance as she attempts to maintain her composure while she watches her son slowly tortured and killed. My girlfriend commented that she should give her an Oscar for "best actress ever", and while I think that might be a little excessive, there is no doubt that she single-handedly raises the film to a whole new level, making one truly realize the pain Jesus suffered through (ironically enough, in fact, seeing Mary's reaction to the torture is more devastating than witnessing the act itself).

In all, the film is a huge accomplishment, and I could not help but respect Gibson's devotion, faith, and dedication which he obivously poured into the film. I only wish I could say that I had been more moved by it. Perhaps by fusing this with The Last Temptation of Christ, and its perfect portrayal of the "human" side of Christ, his rise to prominence, and his fear of his destiny, The Passion could have been an overwhelming experience. Gibson's fixation on the torment and pain he suffered would be more powerful if we only knew Jesus before this, if we could remind ourselves of who this man was, and the things he taught. The film, as it stands, is a powerful accomplishment, but its only really emotional moments came from watching a mother crumbling with the loss of her son.

Note: Much has been made of the anti-Semitism the film supposedly carries. It's possible to see where the argument arose from--among other points, some of the more venomous Jews are portrayed as people who could not be more stereotypical caricatures of "evil Jews". But to say the film as a whole is anti-Semitic is like saying Schindler's List is anti-German. Yes, there are evil acts done by people in the film who happen to be Jewish. But there are just as many Jewish people in the film who stand up for Jesus, who attempt to help him or decry what they see. More to the point, some of the most horrific acts in the film are performed not by the Jews, but by the Roman soldiers. In the end, while the anti-Semitic argument can be made, to me, it simply does not hold water.