Eli, Eli, Hide Your Heart, Girl
Now Playing: The Flaming Lips--"Be My Head"
I'd actually like to apologize for today's post heading, but once I'd thought of it, there's no fucking way I wasn't going to use it, especially as it relates to what I think are some very troublesome aspects of the movie I last saw.

The Passion of the Christ (2004) reminds me of a story idea I had some years back. A twisted malcontent, based loosely on someone I knew in college (not me), wrote, claiming divine inspiration a la Joseph Smith (or, for that matter, Matthew, Mark, Luke or John), "The Book of Zebedee," purporting to be an account of the early years of Christ as described by one of the less famous Apostles. These halcyon days mainly consisted of Jesus defending Earth from an invasion of laser-wielding "Ravagons" from the "Ninth Galaxy." The thought came to me while watching the movie that in some ways, Mel Gibson had done the exact same thing.

I found it at the library, which was fortunate as I'd been leery of paying for it, just in case my money found its eventual way into the hands of some freaky right-wing lunatics. As far as anti-Semitism is concerned, I couldn't see it so much as the Jews themselves were concerned. The portrayal of the mob? Well, it was a mob, and that's usually how a mob behaves, especially for religious reasons. The portrayal of the Jews in relation to the Romans, though, was bizarre and rather imperialistic in places. Pilate seemed like a reluctant colonial ruler, sensitive and ever fearful of native uprisings, "Sanders of the River" without the firm decision and curious resemblance to Leslie Banks. There were a few Romans shown as anti-Semitic themselves, but the whole situation seemed incredibly lopsided to me. I also didn't get why Mary and Mary Magdalene started reciting the Passover prayer when frightened for Jesus, unless Gibson was trying to link the Exodus with Jesus' deliverance of humanity. I heard a lot of people got het up at that scene, and, frankly, I can see why.

The accusations of sadomasochism stick a little more firmly, as the scourging and crucifixion scenes dare themselves to coat the camera lens with red food coloring (although never actually doing so). Jesus' torment by the Romans is lovingly portrayed in a way that's hard not to find creepy. I think Gibson claimed that this was done to make the viewers feel what Jesus was going through and also feel complicit in his death, in which, I understand, he approximates traditional Catholic teachings on the Crucifixion (allegedly even going so far as to wield the hammer himself during one of the thwacks). If that was the case, he could have done better on the special effects. At one point, the cat-o'-nine-tails (or whatever they called them back then) rips out part of Jesus' midsection in an incredibly tinny and unrealistic scene which had CGI stink all over it. Such use of special effects make me think less about my supposed personal complicity in the Crucifixion and more about what the F/X guys were talking about when putting this together. "Oh, man, this is gonna look so cool!!!"

Don't get me wrong. Some of it was pretty compelling--hearing the characters speak in the original languages was an undeniable kick. It'd be cool if the success of the movie made filmmakers think about making more movies in supposedly "dead" languages--there were snatches of Latin in The Thirteenth Warrior (1999), too, and I wonder what other historical stories could be done in such a manner. I also thought James Caviezel did a good job as Jesus. Playing Christ figure Witt in The Thin Red Line (1998) must have been good practice, and I was one of those who found his gross miscasting as The Count of Monte Cristo (2002) more hilarious than offensive. The scenes in flashback of the Sermon on the Mount... every time that gets put on film, it sends the willies up my spine, as I believe that to be one of the supreme moments in human consciousness, be it historical or legendary. I'd expected great things from Caleb Deschanel's cinematography, which I heard was supposed to be patterned after Caravaggio's use of light. It was generally successful and gorgeous, although I couldn't help thinking that The Passion would make a great double bill with Derek Jarman's Caravaggio (1986) (which I liked), especially given Gibson's apparent feelings towards gays, filmmakers or not.

The overall treatment of the story, though, was a litle offputting. Some enormously moving moments alternate with a weird Hollywood sensibility that was mostly absent from more artistically orthodox treatments such as Franco Zefferelli's glorious 1977 TV Jesus of Nazareth miniseries with the great Robert "Asylum" Powell. Judas sees a cheesy CGI demon and there's lots of divine payback towards the end of the movie. I wonder if, while watching this, anyone was ever tempted to yell "Yeah! Get 'em, Jesus!!" during these little episodes). Satan and what I imagined to be his demonic spawn were actually pretty cool, but a little incongruous under the present circumstances. If the Horned One is trying to seduce the Messiah, I figure he'd probably assume a more seductive form than a pasty, androgynous imp with bad teeth. Unless, of course, Gibson was suggesting that Jesus was into pasty androgynous imps (inasmuch as he was "into" anything), which would be very, very funny. Lastly, John Debney's score was rather generic, sounding almost like James Horner's score for Glory (1989), but the drugstore version rather than the actual brand name. Of course, this seems to be the way most film scores are going these days, the ones that aren't still being written by my man John Barry.

In the end, I was glad I got to see it, but I probably wouldn't see it again, and was glad I didn't shell any hard-earned out either. This is true of most movies that come out these days, but much, much more so of The Passion.

Fortunately, it's inspired me to read the Beatitudes tonight, something that always manages to cheer me up. Well-done on that score, Gibson, but it'll take me a long time to forgive you for Braveheart.