MrBishop
Well-Known Member
Film Review
The Passion of the Christ
Mel Gibson, Icon Productions
Good questions, really: “Do you really believe that one man can carry the sins of the whole world?” “Are you a king?” “What is truth?”
Mel Gibson’s Passion of the Christ is a much needed reminder of the suffering of oppressed people. This type of torture happens every day, to this day. The film, and the story behind it, is a testament of the brutality and hatred of which human beings are capable. This is the story of too many wide-eyed, humble dreamers who dare to embrace the full divinity, authority, and freedom of their humanity, directly in the face of systems and people who would keep them helpless and worthless. It is the story of too many women—mothers, wives, sisters—who fiercely defend the dignity of entire communities, only to be left vulnerable and powerless by patriarchal and colonial social structures. In too many societies, women without fathers, husbands or sons are treated as worthless, hence Jesus’s words to his mother and best friend, “Woman, behold your son; Son, behold your mother.” The Passion is also the story of one of those same dreamers, who showed that love, hope, and unrelenting dedication to truth and beauty are worth defending at the expense of comfortable and efficient systems, and at the cost of one’s own life. The story of Jesus testifies that these are ultimately more powerful than any human cruelty, and are the true marks of human power and nobility. “If you love only those who love you, what reward is there in that?” “You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” The sins of the whole world are not something abstract; they are embodied directly in what was done to Jeshua Nazareths, and to so many others like him.
The Passion of the Christ, as a film, must be understood within the tradition of Catholic devotional art. It is clearly structured on the meditative traditions of dramatised passion-narratives, the stations of the cross, terrifyingly graphic depictions of the crucifiction, and Pietà (depictions of Mary mourning over the corpse of her son). The film is rich with symbolism. As a cradle Protestant, I’m not as aware of all the symbolic subtleties as I would like to be. However, as one who knows the story intimately as it appears in the texts, there is plenty of imagery that sticks in the mind to be pondered. This is both the film’s strength and its weakness. While on the whole it is fairly successful in its attempt to be historical and life-like, at times it degenerates into sappy religious kitsch. From this point of view, the English subtitles are quite disappointingly sanctimonious, drawing directly on rather outdated translations of the Bible.
One narrative technique which I particularly liked in the Passion was that of flashbacks triggered by image associations. At various points, a particular detail of the brutal circumstances is transcended and transformed by a reference to a similar image or occurrence in another part of the story outside the passion narrative. For example, the sandal of a soldier who is flogging Jesus becomes a reminder of Jesus’ washing of his disciples’ feet, or the hill on which he is crucified shifts to the famous “sermon on the mount.”
For those who would dismiss or condemn this film as anti-Jewish, let me remind you that the main character is a peasant-class Rabbi, being gleefully and brutally mocked, tortured and killed by the soldiers of a white suprematist government, having been handed over to them by collaborationist religious leaders too attached to their status quo power. Problems of casting aside (and they remain very real), the moment of truth for this issue in the film comes with the forcing of another Jewish peasant to help Jesus carry his cross. The soldier doing the forcing derisively orders the man, “go on, Jew.” The bond that then develops between Jesus and this man as they make their gruesome way is one of the most interesting and powerful character developments of the whole film.
All of that said, it must be continually admitted that this story has been grossly misused, not only by Christians, to justify the persecution of Jewish people. The story of Jesus is a profoundly Jewish one, but the scandal of his betrayal and execution by the powers that be of his own society is one of human, global proportions. There is no monopoly on suffering. In far too many circumstances, real criminals (dare I say terrorists?) such as Barrabbas are set loose, while real prophets whose love for life and those around them transcends social and political taboos are those who suffer. We must also remember that the Romans were bloody savages, and that the Roman empire is the legacy claimed by far too many histories of so-called civilisation. Christianity is fundamentally at odds with imperialist ambitions, and its appropriations by imperial powers throughout history remain among the gravest travesties of its truth.
The Passion of the Christ
Mel Gibson, Icon Productions
Good questions, really: “Do you really believe that one man can carry the sins of the whole world?” “Are you a king?” “What is truth?”
Mel Gibson’s Passion of the Christ is a much needed reminder of the suffering of oppressed people. This type of torture happens every day, to this day. The film, and the story behind it, is a testament of the brutality and hatred of which human beings are capable. This is the story of too many wide-eyed, humble dreamers who dare to embrace the full divinity, authority, and freedom of their humanity, directly in the face of systems and people who would keep them helpless and worthless. It is the story of too many women—mothers, wives, sisters—who fiercely defend the dignity of entire communities, only to be left vulnerable and powerless by patriarchal and colonial social structures. In too many societies, women without fathers, husbands or sons are treated as worthless, hence Jesus’s words to his mother and best friend, “Woman, behold your son; Son, behold your mother.” The Passion is also the story of one of those same dreamers, who showed that love, hope, and unrelenting dedication to truth and beauty are worth defending at the expense of comfortable and efficient systems, and at the cost of one’s own life. The story of Jesus testifies that these are ultimately more powerful than any human cruelty, and are the true marks of human power and nobility. “If you love only those who love you, what reward is there in that?” “You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” The sins of the whole world are not something abstract; they are embodied directly in what was done to Jeshua Nazareths, and to so many others like him.
The Passion of the Christ, as a film, must be understood within the tradition of Catholic devotional art. It is clearly structured on the meditative traditions of dramatised passion-narratives, the stations of the cross, terrifyingly graphic depictions of the crucifiction, and Pietà (depictions of Mary mourning over the corpse of her son). The film is rich with symbolism. As a cradle Protestant, I’m not as aware of all the symbolic subtleties as I would like to be. However, as one who knows the story intimately as it appears in the texts, there is plenty of imagery that sticks in the mind to be pondered. This is both the film’s strength and its weakness. While on the whole it is fairly successful in its attempt to be historical and life-like, at times it degenerates into sappy religious kitsch. From this point of view, the English subtitles are quite disappointingly sanctimonious, drawing directly on rather outdated translations of the Bible.
One narrative technique which I particularly liked in the Passion was that of flashbacks triggered by image associations. At various points, a particular detail of the brutal circumstances is transcended and transformed by a reference to a similar image or occurrence in another part of the story outside the passion narrative. For example, the sandal of a soldier who is flogging Jesus becomes a reminder of Jesus’ washing of his disciples’ feet, or the hill on which he is crucified shifts to the famous “sermon on the mount.”
For those who would dismiss or condemn this film as anti-Jewish, let me remind you that the main character is a peasant-class Rabbi, being gleefully and brutally mocked, tortured and killed by the soldiers of a white suprematist government, having been handed over to them by collaborationist religious leaders too attached to their status quo power. Problems of casting aside (and they remain very real), the moment of truth for this issue in the film comes with the forcing of another Jewish peasant to help Jesus carry his cross. The soldier doing the forcing derisively orders the man, “go on, Jew.” The bond that then develops between Jesus and this man as they make their gruesome way is one of the most interesting and powerful character developments of the whole film.
All of that said, it must be continually admitted that this story has been grossly misused, not only by Christians, to justify the persecution of Jewish people. The story of Jesus is a profoundly Jewish one, but the scandal of his betrayal and execution by the powers that be of his own society is one of human, global proportions. There is no monopoly on suffering. In far too many circumstances, real criminals (dare I say terrorists?) such as Barrabbas are set loose, while real prophets whose love for life and those around them transcends social and political taboos are those who suffer. We must also remember that the Romans were bloody savages, and that the Roman empire is the legacy claimed by far too many histories of so-called civilisation. Christianity is fundamentally at odds with imperialist ambitions, and its appropriations by imperial powers throughout history remain among the gravest travesties of its truth.
