Scott and I finally saw The Passion of the Christ. Two weeks ago. I have tried twice to review it. Twice my posts have been eaten. Either Mel Gibson is controlling the internet in some machination straight out of Conspiracy Theory, or Jesus wants me to let go of this habit of leading with the negative. On the hunch that it’s the latter, I try again, try again.
First, a few words about my faith. About Lent. About where I see the Passion ( the concept, not the movie) in the greater scheme of things.
My Christianity is not about miracles. Scott believes that the resurrection was accomplished as proof that Jesus was the son of God. I find the resurrection almost beside the point. You could stick me in a time machine, and prove to me beyond all doubt that there was no resurrection, and I would still believe. I believe because I choose to believe.
And here’s why. Prove it to me. Go ahead. I will continue to believe in Jesus as God’s son because I choose to believe that, were God to send a son, with a message, that message would be Jesus’ message. Love one another. Turn the other cheek. Give up everything to serve one another. Go and sin no more. Quit getting all caught up in the minutia of interpretation of the law, and live the spirit of the law. An absolutely radical call to live out the Kingdom of Heaven every single minute of every single day, right here, right NOW. In other words, fulfill your calling. We are called to Joy and Love.
In this light, for me, and maybe for me alone, the resurrection becomes superfluous. There is no need to prove it to me. It just is. It is not the core of the matter. If it is not Truth with a capital T it is a lovely symbol of the triumph of light over darkness. If it is Truth, then it is a mystery I can meditate on, but cannot comprehend.
One more thing. The proof, to me, of the truth of the story, lies not in the resurrection, but in the reaction of the crowd. It is a story that is as much about us as it is about him. About how threatened we are by a message that calls us to drop our petty grudges, our self-righteousness. How our response to the call to love is often frightened and cruel. How scourging, crucifixion and death are not enough for us. We dress one another in a crown of thorns. We mock. At our worst, we meet one another’s thirst with sour wine. At our best we help to carry the cross. We look at one another’s pain and are moved to help. We quietly make our arrangements to bury the body. The choice is entirely ours.
Enough About Me - The Film
At its best, The Passion of the Christ is about these subtle interactions. Moments when we rise up out of ourselves and really look at one another. Moments when we grasp the full momentous horror of the results of darkness left to fester too long in our souls.
The acting in this film was, to a person, brilliant. The directing of this story of Jesus and our responses to him was daring. I cannot forget…
* The stunned silence of the soldier in Gethsemene in reaction to Jesus’ healing of his ear, which seemed to last for an eternity.
* Simon’s visible transformation, from a frightened man, reminding everyone in sight "I’m not with this guy, I’m just helping to carry this cross because you’re forcing me to," through a realization that you can see ON HIS FACE, that he is either with Jesus, or he is with the crowd, to the end, at Golgotha, where he has taken on enough of the cross that the two men are now almost one.
* Other Mary (who got, really, the worst nomenclature in the entire gospels… No, No, Not That Mary, The Other Mary) who cowers through most of the film, who we see in a silent flashback being raised out of the dirt by Jesus, and who, at the moment of his death rises up to face him, as though she has been completely and finally freed to "go and sin no more."
* Mary (or as I like to call her Yes, That Mary) - Ah, what a blessed gift, a Mary with wrinkles in her face that could only have been put there by a son, well loved. A flashback scene that paints Jesus’ spirit in such a loving and charismatic light, exactly as young men exist in their mothers’ hearts, with such sparkling eyes and a pure and beautiful laugh, that there can be no doubt how he garnered such enthusiasm. Her weathered face watching in agony as his life, and hers unravel before her eyes. A rendering of the Pieta at the end that strips away every sterile beatific image I’ve ever seen in my life and replaces it with a stunned and hollow silence that rings true.
* John, lost, and frightened, who cannot stay awake in Gethsemane, whose first instinct is to run away, to try to find help outside of himself, and yet, is the one man that follows Jesus through every station of the cross, and who, finally, is entrusted with Yes, That Mary.
* And Judas. In the bravest sequence in the film, Mel Gibson dares to show Jesus’ arrest and trial before the Sanhedrin through the filter of the face of Judas, as his face wordlessly reflects the growing horror of what he has set in motion.
And Then - (Or, You Knew I Couldn’t Save My Negativity to the Very End)
Unfortunately, Mel indulged in some directing behavior that blemished this movie for me. Through about 98% of the movie, I felt as though I was locked in an excruciatingly intimate communion. During the other 2 %, it felt very much like Mel had plunked down in the seat next to me, WITH POPCORN, and started whispering in my ear. "Look. Get it? I’m Directing. See?" He did this through special effects, a living breathing walking around sexually ambiguous Satan character, and Muppets. Yes. Muppets. Check the credits. There’s a muppeteer listed.
After Judas observes the beginnings of the fallout of his betrayal, after he goes back to the Sanhedrin and tries to reason with them, and is sent away, he cowers, shivering, in the courtyard. Little children run up to him, and want to know if he’s alright. His face is bleeding. He is freaking out. He tells them to go away. They say he is cursed. And then
And then
And then they turn into demons.
No, really. No. Really. And then there are more demon children, and the demon children chase Judas to Potter’s Field and Satan is with them, and they are dancing a little sort of demon jig, and there is no escape for Judas, til he ends up curled up in a fetal position with his eyes closed and his hands over his ears, and then he sloooooowly opens his eyes and looks around, and then you hear this low buzzing and then the buzzing gets louder and it’s because he is surrounded by flies (and Mel elbows me, spilling a little of his popcorn and caffeine free diet coke on my shirt and goes "GET IT???? FLIES??? BEELZEBUB????? LORD of the Flies???? SATAN????" 
and the flies are coming from the rotting corpse of a donkey, which conveniently has a rope on it, which Judas uses to hang himself. At this point in my viewing, I envy him just a little.
It was disconcerting and distracting. It happened a couple of other times, but that time was the worst, because he had really set it up so well. So perfectly. It was as if Judas had the gift, for a moment, of seeing everything and his place in the universe and human history with crystal clarity. That in itself was motivation enough for his suicide. Instead, we got a cop out.
Those moments, where Satan is walking around, where the temple is breaking in two using what I believe used to be the "Earthquake ‘72" ride from Universal Studios, where a single God sized tear splashes to the earth? Felt like a real lack of faith to me. I’m not sure whether it felt like Gibson’s lack of faith in the intelligence of his audience, or a lack of faith in his own ability to get his point across without a dog and pony show. My guess is that it was the latter. And I think it is a shame. Because this movie was pretty close to being a perfect movie. And maybe 20 total minutes of screen time kept it from being a perfect movie in a manner that was incredibly frustrating.
The Violence
A lot’s been said about this. I think the focus on the violence misses the point. That said, I should probably admit here that I had my eyes covered for a lot of it. Even so, it was inescapable. Even with my eyes closed, I could not escape the pain of the scourging scene. Every blow literally had me jumping and squirming in my seat, just from the sound.
I’m not a big fan of movie violence. But let’s talk about this for a minute. Let’s talk about the uproar around the violence in this film, how it is too over the top, even for the Romans, how it appeals to our prurient interest more than historical accuracy. Let’s talk about that, shall we?
Try to accept that Mel Gibson is an artist, like any other artist, who is setting out to get across a message, like any decent filmmaker does. Try to accept that the message is "Christ died for the sins of mankind." You don’t have to accept the truth of his message, just that that is the message he is trying to get across.
If that is the message, then I think the question is "Is this movie violent enough?. We are violent. The violence perpetrated by the Bush administration in Iraq alone represents a sin that exceeds the violence in this movie. Throw in the holocaust. Throw in September 11. Throw in the way I cringe when people I can’t stand want something from me. Throw in the last time you lost your temper without reason. (Or maybe it’s just me that does that…) Or thought unkind thoughts, or entertained, even for a second, the relative truth of a racial, gender or ethnic stereotype.
Shouldn’t we be more concerned about all of that stuff than the historical accuracy of a piece of art?
And In the End
I think this is a movie that will be interpreted by each viewer differently, through his or her own personal lens. I suspect it will mean many things to many people.
Ultimately, for me, what shone through was a depth of Love and Forgiveness that, like the resurrection, I can meditate on, but cannot comprehend. There is a shot of Jesus’ face while he’s on the cross that made me question whether this man’s church yet exists in the world. It is not just the level of the sacrifice that brought that point home for me, but the willingness, at each step, to go forward to the next. The call to "Forgive them Father for they know not what they do," at the end, startled and jarred me as much as it jarred Caiphas on the screen, and I knew it was coming. "WHAT did he just say? Did I hear that right?"
Like it or hate it, but see it for yourself, make up your own mind. Because, I suspect that no matter where you come down on this film, the hype does not do it justice.
