A
man and his passion for reform
The
Passion of The Christ reviewed by Dayan Jayatilleka
"But who do you say that I am?" - Matthew 16:15
" Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?" - Bob Dylan
(A Hard Rain's a Gonna Fall)
Mel
Gibson's precisely titled movie The Passion of The Christ (abbreviated
in popular parlance the world over as 'Passion of Christ') is one
of the most widely discussed and debated in the history of cinema.
(A Google search shows 739,000 pages of reviews alone, compared
with 261,000 such pages for The Godfather trilogy.) It is a powerful,
unforgettable film, the only one of many I have seen on the broad
theme and subject, which makes you feel you are there, watching
it happen, a witness. Which is why Pope John Paul II pronounced
when the controversy erupted, "it is as it was".
It
is important to understand - and this film helps - how a man of
no ripe age and experience or exalted station, living in a small
land occupied by an Empire, neither martial conqueror nor inheritor
of a great state, with only twelve followers among whom was a traitor,
condemned and executed, impacted on history as no other, cutting
it in two, gathering a billion adherents and appearing in paintings,
posters, poems, songs, novels, plays, a rock opera (I heard the
'Superstar' album on Vatican Radio, Easter '73) and movies over
two thousand years later: A.D. to DVD.
Like
a rolling stone
To comprehend the cultural and historical achievement
of Jesus, a literary critical approach assists. The uniqueness lies
in the nature of the narrative, the story and its dramatic character.
His death was all of a piece with his life: born at the margin,
finding no room at the inn; on the run, the small family crossing
the border, fleeing the massacre of innocents by Herod. That sets
the tone and tension, sustained till the last exhalation on the
Cross. "…But the Son of Man has no place to rest his
head."
The
message too is unique in the terse spareness of language, beginning
with the Magnificat where the messenger not only announces to the
adolescent Mary her pregnancy and its provenance, but the nature
of her child's mandate: to "free the captives, and preach the
good news to the poor”. The Sermon on the Mount for instance
is singular in that the slightly discrepant Gospel versions can
trigger a serious ideological debate between two slogan-like theses:
"blessed are the poor" and "blessed are the poor
in spirit".
The
rebel unarmed
Open any of the Gospels: the attention is instantly seized.
It is already a film script. It could start with a close up of the
encounter at the inn or a long tracking shot of the flight into
Egypt. Of how many great texts can one say that? There is something
new: the literary style, bare to the bone, and the tone, the protagonist,
his words and gestures.
Jesus
was the new man, a hero of a new type, not a warrior, philosopher,
poet or artist. He was a teacher, but unlike Socrates, wounded war
veteran and great teacher put to death by the status quo, this man
whom Voltaire called "the Socrates of the Galilee" was
an activist, with a message and a mission, uniting doctrine and
deed. Unlike Moses or Joshua, a prophet armed, he was the rebel
unarmed.
The
movie is firmly founded (much of the script is from the Scripture,
the rest from the mystical 'visions' of two Catholic saints, one
a stigmatic), but not literalist. It is impossible to think of a
more dramatic opening: Gethsemane, misty, midnight blue, Jesus bowed
in mental anguish and prayer. The artistic licence taken is philosophically
brilliant: the androgynous, black cowled Satan (no horns and tail!)
insinuates into the agonising mind of Jesus: "Who is your father?
Who are you? No one man can take all that weight, I tell you”.
The statement underscores through its evil agency, that concurrence
with its common sense appeal, its banal truth, is the very temptation
to be resisted. The film brings home the reality of the sacrificial
cost of resistance.
Mel
Gibson's movie, developing the skills and individual style he had
shown in directing Braveheart (the rebellion and execution of Scottish
rebel William Wallace), brings to life the consequences of the decision
by Jesus (a decision to submit to one, is also one) who made a triumphant
popular entry into Jerusalem, to contradict serially and then simultaneously
all the power centres, to refuse to conform to any of the existing
camps and ideologies (Jewish/Roman, religious/political, elite/radical
nationalist), to demarcate himself from all sides.
He
unnerved the Jewish religious hierarchy, refused to plead with either
Herod or Pilate, placed himself between the rock of the dominant
Jewish religious interests and the hard place of the Roman Empire.
The space narrowed with his every word, and crushed him.
Jesus'
message expanded like a supernova across geographic and social space
and time (a billion Christians in 2000), because he chose to narrow
his available space dangerously, radically, fatally. He sacrificed
present space for future space, and present time for future time:
here-space for there-space, now-time for then-time.
The
Man
In the film, Pilate's utterance "Ecce Homo"
("behold the man", or "here is the man") comes
with poignant force. The dramatic power of the character of Jesus
resides in the combination of the claim of divinity with the concreteness
of the depiction of his humanity: Son of God/Son of Man.
The
"Son of Man" had an individual personality far more dialectical
than many other figures that did not claim divine status. Jesus
was a man of passion, often stoically calm but sometimes a man on
fire, his anger seen to explode in the overturning of the money
changers' tables in the Temple in Jerusalem, an act that jeopardised
both his safety and his popularity: the Temple was the base of the
Jewish power bloc and the market a convenient service for the large
number of pilgrims who sacrificed animals during Passover.
Crucial
too is the scene in the Gospels of Mary Magdalene (played in the
film by the arresting Monica Bellucci) who had been saved by Jesus
from death by stoning (with his accompanying critique of hypocritical
moralism) washing his feet and wiping them with her hair, resulting
in an "ultra-left egalitarian" criticism by Judas that
the scented oil could have been sold and the money given to the
poor. Judas was a militant nationalist whose bitter disappointment
that Jesus did not wish to launch a "patriotic struggle"
led him to the ultimate treason: a matchless piece of political
drama. Alone among major religious founders, Jesus was rejected
and defeated: the mob opted for Barabbas, ultranationalist terrorist,
assassin and social bandit.
No
other founding religious figure has been depicted as undergoing
the drama of inner struggle, doubt, hesitation, weakness, even fear,
not initially, not midway, but at the final stage of his mission,
as Christ does in the Garden of Gethsemane. There is no point in
life at which he has finally overcome his emotions and achieved
sublime equanimity. It is a masterpiece of dramatic writing when
the Gospels report his dying cry: "Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?"
("My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?"). It was
equally inspired for the Church not to have suppressed it. (If Marxists
had so keen a grasp of the human psyche, Socialism would have survived
far longer.) That cry is torn, choking and anguished, from the perfectly
cast Jim Caviezel, and is the awesome climax of the film.
Twelve
hours
Geometrically, physically the simplest of constructs,
the cross is also the single most powerful symbol of all time. Caleb
Deschanel's cinematography makes the film a darkly vivid painting
in motion, the cameras taking in from all angles but in a swirling
single movement, the charged images: Christ crucified, the three
crosses on the hill, stark silhouettes against the skyline. The
Resurrection is an enigmatic postscript handled with gossamer discretion.
To those, including many Christians who have said “but it’s
so violent", ("no, but I've read the Book") my reply
is "what do you think it was like?" - from Gethsemane
to Golgotha, the Place of the Skull, when everything Jesus had said
and done and meant and was, was put to the test and congealed into
climactic culmination; message matched with extreme gesture, ultimate
deed. Easter eggs and escapist metaphysics are not what it is about.
The
shying away from the realism of the cinematic depiction helps us
comprehend through, the denial by Peter and the desertion of the
disciples in the face not only of the risk but the physical reality
of that unfolding ferocity, and the doubts of Thomas who could not
believe that anyone could transcend such relentless destruction.
The
movie communicates as never before the physical and psychological
force of the mob; the emotional anguish of Mary as she watches her
son; the torment of the crown of thorns. For me the two most powerful
scenes in this uncompromising movie are when Jesus, hunched and
stumbling under the Cross, encounters his mother (acted with luminous
stoicism by Maia Morgenstern) and says "look, I make all things
new" (Revelations), and earlier when Jesus is lashed, and using
all his willpower, struggles erect, only to have heavier whips introduced
and this time be battered down to the ground, having to be dragged
from the scourging square, leaving long streaks of blood behind
on the silent stones.
(‘ThePassion
of Christ’ is now showing at the Majestic Cinema in Colombo
and the Regal in Negombo)
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