But most of Christ’s story is behind him when we enter “The Passion,” and, surprisingly, the movie’s most dynamic and intriguing character is that of Pontius Pilate (Hristo Shopov) , the Roman governor who ultimately sends Jesus to Golgotha. He is a cold pragmatist, determined to keep the trains running on time. Yet he knows right from wrong and in his heart can convict Jesus of nothing. No one can wash his hands of Christ’s blood, but Pilate tries to convince himself, and the world, that it’s possible. Again, the movie seems to ask, how often have we played that role?
The careful modulation of Shopov’s performance highlights the awkwardness of the gleeful sadism of the Roman guards who torture Christ. The bloodletting is not unnecessary, but their pleasure in doing so seems artificial. It would be more in line with Pilate, and perhaps more disturbing, if they were calm and methodical tormentors, who, like Pilate (and the Quiet American, I might add), can talk themselves into the “necessity” of brutality. “Andrei Roublev,” Tarkovsky’s metaphorical Passion film of awesome power, is three hours of torture and brutality distributed casually and without emotion. This nonchalance highlights how evil is what we do everyday, and not just the isolated work of weirdos, which would have fit “The Passion” better.
Aw, crap, “Return of the King” just won Best Picture. What a travesty.
Anyway, “The Passion” is a splendid production, and for a scant $30 million it looks as good as much more expensive features. It makes a solid companion piece to Scorsese’s “Last Temptation of Christ,” one emotional, visceral, and lumpy-throated, the other intellectual and head-scratching. I’ll let wiser minds than mine speak to whether there’s any basis to the cries of anti-Semitism that have been levied at “The Passion.” The movie has Jews who are good and bad, and I will say that I had no urge to go home and burn my Kafka and throw out my Kubrick collection. The movie has already been a pawn in several well-publicized battles between mighty figures of the right and the left and it will probably continue to do so. Don’t be surprised if some Anne Coulter-type comes claiming “how can liberals see this movie and still not support the war in Iraq?” That’ll be some piece of rhetoric. I like the pope’s comment on the film the best, which was summed up by an advisor as “he does not make judgments on art of this kind. He leaves that to others, to experts.” Dodging, perhaps, but there’s an echo of one of Mother Theresa’s favorite sayings about how God has a plan for each of us: “I can do things that you can’t, and you can do things that I can’t.” So that’s the Holy Father’s way of saying “I may be the Vicar of Christ, the successor to the Apostles, and the terrestrial head of the Church, but that doesn’t mean I know anything about film.” Irony of ironies, of all the religious leaders to comment on the film, he may be the only one to have actually had something he’s written turned into a movie.
I like movies about people—that’s my justification for that “travesty” comment I made a minute ago—and religion, all religions, is important to people. It’s a shame overt spirituality in film has been on a bit of a hiatus in recent years, although you can always find movies like “The Thin Red Line,” “Gangs of New York,” “Whale Rider,” “The Count of Monte Cristo,” and even “Pulp Fiction” that have not shied away from the next world. Certainly an uncompromisingly religious film in wide-release is a daring step on Gibson’s part, but maybe the braver act is his decision to share something so personal and so close to his heart.
Finished February 29th, 2004
Postscript March 4th 2004: My wife brought to my attention how inordinately buoyant and light-hearted this piece is considering the nature of Gibson’s film. In re-reading my review I’m inclined to agree. I can’t stress enough what an exhausting and demanding film this is, how at the end you feel like you’ve been beaten with bars of soap, but in defense of my tone, the movie does have a happy ending (perhaps the happiest). Roger Ebert likes to say, and I paraphrase, that a badly-made comedy always depresses him, while a well-made tragedy makes him happy. I was also filled with the joy of seeing all the wizardry of the moviemaker’s arsenal at the service of a film of personal sincerity, instead of impersonal gloss. And since most discussion of the film, pro or con, has been in hushed, ominous tones while incense is burning, I figured someone needed to talk about it out in the parking lot.
Also, Joseph A. Fiorenza, bishop of the Diocese of Houston-Galveston and former president of the United States Council of Catholic Bishops, made this handy-dandy statement on the movie “The Passion of the Christ”
“I do not want to encourage or discourage anyone from seeing Mel Gibson's movie, ‘The Passion of the Christ.’ I have not seen it and will not offer an opinion about it. However, the Catholic Church teaches that neither the Jews at the time of Christ nor Jews today can be charged with His death. We sinners are the guilty ones for the crimes of His passion and death. That is why we lovingly and reverently refer to Jesus as ‘our Redeemer.’
“The passion and death of Jesus was a horrific human suffering and it is essential to Christian identity and salvation. The gospels are clear that some Jews called for His death. But from apostolic times, the Church has professed, ‘He suffered under Pontius Pilate,’ a Roman governor. It would be tragic and abhorrent for anyone to use this film to stir-up anti-Semitic feelings.”
Copyright © 2004 Friday & Saturday Night
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