USA, 2004
:אכן חלינו הוא ושא ומכאבינו סבלם ואנחנו חשבנהו נגוע מכה אלהים ומענה
:והוא מחלל מפשענו מעונתינו מוסר שלומנו עליו ובחברתו נרפא-לנו
ישעיה -
Part One:
A Cinematic Context for "The Passion of the Christ"
When he visited an art gallery, Ludwig Wittgenstein confessed that he'd rather spend several hours studying a single painting than spend those hours casually browsing every painting in the building.
Mel Gibson takes Wittgenstein's approach to the Christ story in "The Passion of the Christ." He doesn't provide an overview of Christ's life, highlighting the key points, emphasizing certain others, and ultimately giving his own slant on Jesus' legacy. Instead, Gibson takes one story from the Gospels and shows it to us. The film begins and ends with those pivotal hours before Christ died and was buried. Not once does he stray from his subject - flashbacks are used to accentuate the Crucifixion, not to provide a context for it.
The context of Christ's death is his life, his ministry, and the complicated world of first century Palestine. Most "Jesus movies" struggle to cover it all; the best versions succeed by using unconventional methods. For instance: Zeffirelli's "Jesus of Nazareth" is over 370 minutes in length, and spends hours providing the context of Christ's life and death. Pasolini's "The Gospel According to Matthew" ignores all contexts and subtexts, relying instead on the most literal and realistic methods of adaptation (to simplify the task even more, Pasolini relied on only one Gospel).
Gibson's film shares much with these earlier masterpieces. With Zeffirelli, he shares a fascination for the politics and people of Roman Palestine. Though Gibson's Sanhedrin are little more than Jesus-hating villains, his Romans (who are more than just the brutes they appear to be) and his Jews (who are more than just a crowd) are portrayed with nuance and detail. Gibson's costumes and sets are designed with the care and astuteness we see in Zeffirelli. Gibson's actors resemble Zeffirelli's on many points. When Jim Caviezel's Christ speaks, it is with the softness and compassion of Robert Powell's Jesus.
But it's Pasolini's vision that Gibson most exudes. Gibson is admittedly a great admirer of the Italian master, and purposely shot "The Passion" at a location Pasolini used in his "Gospel According to Matthew." Like Pasolini, Gibson has portrayed Christ with intense realism and physicality. Yet these similarities only underline the differences between the films. While Pasolini avoided symbolism and traditional imagery, Gibson's film is a cinematic tapestry of familiar images, borrowing heavily from the Christian iconography that Pasolini's film totally lacks. And while Pasolini's realism seems almost documentary, Gibson's portrayal of the wounded Christ verges on hyperrealism. Pasolini's Christ inhabits a physical reality unusual among portrayals of the Messiah - he moves, breathes, walks, and speaks like a man. Gibson's Christ is similarly physical, but his physicality is twisted and beaten "beyond human recognition." Pasolini brings us Christ as a man; in Gibson, he is barely that.
Of course, what most separates "The Passion" from Zeffirelli and Pasolini is that it doesn't attempt, as do those films, to tell the story of Christ. It's not "Jesus movie" proper, but rather a Passion Play on celluloid. It's a "Crucifixion movie." While other films struggle to create Christ's context, Gibson assumes that audiences will enter the theater with that context in their hearts and minds.
It's somewhat surprising that "The Passion" is the first film to deal exclusively with Christ's death. Many directors have tackled the story of Jesus, but none have devoted an entire film to his death, the single most filmable (and most famous) part of Christ's life. Do any other movies so exclusively and intensely portray the last hours of Christ's life? D.W. Griffith's "Intolerance" comes to mind, but that film uses Christ's trial as one of several episodes, each exploring the larger theme of human injustice. There is E. Elias Merhige's "Begotten," which certainly matches "The Passion" in its relentless portrayal of Christ's suffering. But "Begotten" is a symbolic film, and distances itself from the person of Jesus. "The Passion" cites the Gospels directly (along with church dogma, Christian tradition, and historical record). It stands alone among portrayals of Christ in cinema - a film like this has never been made.
"The Passion" As Art and Meditation
"The Passion of the Christ" isn't a narrative so much as a meditation - a Catholic prayer, full of hallowed incantations and repetitions. The incantations are Christ's moans, the repetitions his beatings. If the film's use of dead languages (Aramaic, Latin) is meant to evoke an old-style Catholic Mass, the elements (flesh, blood) are fresh and alive. The portrayal of Christ's sufferings reverberate new life into old ideas. With each whipping, each cry, each spasm, the reality of the Crucifixion is made utterly clear. This film is the most vivid recital of the Stations of the Cross most Christians are likely to experience.
The intensity of Christ's suffering is the film's greatest strength. It calls itself "The Passion of the Christ," and the title is appropriate; Roger Ebert points out the Latin origins of "passion," which refer to pain. Furthermore, this is the Passion "of the Christ," a phrase that exemplifies how Jesus is portrayed in the film. He isn't really personified. Aside from a brief flashback of the Sermon on the Mount, and some flashbacks of the Last Supper, he doesn't speak (at least not in human terms). He is presented as "the Christ," both the literal Messiah and the abstract concept of the Christ. Whatever human terms we attach to this concept, we bring them to the film ourselves. Gibson has given us a canvas on which to infer our own ideas about Jesus; if many Evangelical leaders are more comfortable with this film than with others about Jesus, it is not because this film advocates their views - the film merely gives them permission to have those views by not strongly advocating any of its own. Is this a weakness? Hardly. This sort of objectivity is why so many have (mistakenly) described the film as "documentary" (a term slightly more appropriate to Pasolini's vision, not Gibson's).
Through this ideological objectivity, Gibson has given us the least nuanced portrayal of Christ ever committed to film...which isn't to say it lacks scope. Unlike most films about Christ, there aren't levels of meaning or multiple layers to unravel...which isn't to say it lacks depth. It's just that there aren't many ways to read this film...there aren't many vantages from which to view it.
Well, that's not entirely true. One could explore in depth the portrayal of Mary and her relationship with Jesus ("The Passion" is the first Jesus movie to feature a great, and not merely adequate, Mary). Their relationship is the most human aspect of this film, and silences the critics who claim that "The Passion" possesses no warmth, no hint of humanity. I could probably devote an entire column to the duality of Pilate and Ciaphas, the two most pronounced characters in the film. There are several instances when the Apostles (particularly John) respond to Christ in ways that will foreshadow their Epistles. Just because the film is singular in its vision doesn't mean there isn't a lot between the lines. But after seeing "The Passion" three times in one week, it's apparent that the film is really about one thing, and one thing alone - Christ's death. Gibson has taken this singular aspect of Christ's ministry, and has portrayed it better than any filmmaker in history.
It amazes me that many Christian leaders (Pat Robertson, Jerry Falwell, James Dobson, et al) who criticized "The Last Temptation of Christ" for focusing too singularly on Christ's humanity praise "The Passion," which focuses just as singularly on his suffering. They deride the first film for not focusing enough on the Gospels, while applauding the second for adapting only a few sentences. But while they seem to want a film that encompasses the totality of the Gospels, Gibson hasn't given them that (whether they realize it or not is another matter). Gibson delivers a mere sliver of the Christ story - he dodges the impossible task of meeting Evangelical expectation, instead creating a brilliant and masterful work of art.
We first see Jesus in the Garden, alone and in turmoil. Already Satan has launched the last temptation - the temptation to deny the Cross. The disciples are sleeping - Christ wakes Peter, Mark, and John, and asks them to keep watch. After meeting the Sanhedrin (a dramatic use of editing that begins with Peter looking at the moon, cuts to a shot of the moon, and returns to Ciaphas looking at the moon), we return to Christ in the Garden. This time Satan is physically present, an androgynous being who taunts Jesus, and then releases a snake toward him.The significance of the snake can't be overstated, but it was likely missed by many viewers. While the reference to the Garden of Eden is obvious to most, there is another layer of symbolism hidden within the image - the snake is a python, a constrictor, a species not necessarily common to Palestine...if Gibson were searching for a snake to taunt the historical Jesus, he'd choose a viper, a poisonous snake that inhabits the area. By choosing a constrictor, Gibson has evoked the concept of physical constriction, of being crushed and suffocated. Jesus was not killed by a single wound, but by a process of being physically and spiritually broken; when a person is crucified, it is their inability to breathe while hanging from the cross that usually kills them. This, along with the torture Christ will endure throughout the film, is predicated in the snake that visits him in the garden.
Gibson employs this sort of symbolism throughout the film - during the flagellation, Satan appears to Christ with a demonic child (perhaps signifying the Antichrist, or possibly mocking Christ's birth). The Sanhedrin are shown riding donkeys, an visual representation of their stubbornness (and a nice contrast with Christ's entrance into Jerusalem). Donkeys make another key appearance during Judas' suicide, another brilliant scene. The film also uses direct symbols, such as a Divine Tear that falls after Christ's death, and even an appearance by the Shroud of Turin.
Symbolism is used most strongly when the Romans are onscreen. Though Gibson portrays them as innocent dummies who, nevertheless, are clearly the torturers of Christ, Gibson is keenly aware that the Romans (not the Jews) will be the true inheritors of Christ's legacy. In the most visually symbolic scene in the film, a Roman solider spears Christ (now dead) through the side, and the blood rains down. The Romans, awed by the sight, seem to kneel as the blood showers on and around them. Meanwhile, the Jewish Temple is ripped apart by an earthquake; not only is the curtain torn, but the whole building seems decimated, and the Holy of Holies is violated by Ciaphas' hands. The message here is clear - the Old Way is gone, a New Way has come.
This use of symbolism, along with the film's style and structure, links "The Passion of the Christ" to its closest aesthetic kin: the painting and sculpture of the late Middle Ages. Indeed: to find a portrayal of the Crucifixion that matches Gibson's for ferocity and veracity, you'd have to go back several hundred years to the great Medieval religious paintings of northern Europe, particularly Matthias Grünewald's breathtaking "Isenheim Altarpiece" and Hieronymus Bosch's "Christ Carrying the Cross" and "Ecce Homo." Not only does "The Passion" resemble those works in terms of violence and savagery, but in terms of structure as well. Gibson has used nonlinear narrative to organize his film much as painters like Grünewald and Bosch organized their famous altarpieces. Consider the use of flashbacks throughout the film. They don't add to the narrative so much as underline it. They remind me very much of the panels Grünewald uses in his altarpiece - they organize around the central image, which is the main narrative, but the painting would be incomplete without them. In "The Passion," the central narrative is Christ's last 12 hours; within that narrative, the centerpiece is the flogging of Jesus, a nine-minute sequence that is the most powerful scene in the film.
Gibson also invokes Grünewald in preferring the visceral over the intellectual. There are many instances, early in the film, when unexpected objects startle the audience from off-screen (in Gethsemane, Peter jumps out at a Roman; later, a demonic spirit leaps out at Judas). This technique may seem more appropriate in "Jaws" than a film about Christ, but it has a purpose. Gibson is conditioning his audience, preparing them for the carnage to follow. Using these startling moments early in the film, he builds the foundation for a visceral experience, a film that affects the gut more than the mind. This follows the pattern set by Grünewald, who created violent images of impact. There's nothing subtle about either Gibson's film or Grünewald's paintings - they startle their viewers, sometimes to the point of nausea.
The film's most intelligent detractors criticize the excessive violence, and the lack of any real substance beyond the violence. They criticize the film for being too Medieval, for not portraying the Christ of the Gospels (or at least the glorious Renaissance Christ of Caravaggio, or the meek Modern Christ, or the multi-faced Postmodern Christs). They believe the film's Dark Age sensibilities are numbing to modern American audiences. The film's greatest strength is, for them, its greatest weakness. They argue that the film reflects an older, more primitive worldview, and has no relevance to us. But they fail to recognize that, while the film's emphases may reflect another era, its spirit and its passion reflect all eras. The sufferings of Christ are as universal as his teachings.
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For more on "The Passion of the Christ," read Kate Bowman's brilliant analysis of the Evangelical reaction to the film. From another perspective, Pat Robertson wrote an article concerning his views on the film and its impact. Roger Ebert wrote an insightful four-star review of the film, while David Denby wrote an insightful negative review. For more on the Isenheim Altarpiece and Matthias Grünewald, click here. For examples of the artwork of Hieronymus Bosch, including the paintings mentioned, click here.
