Film Review

The Passion of Mel Gibson 

by Brent Ables

March 23, 2004

In contemporary society, one often gets the impression that a strict line divides what we consider entertainment and what we consider "real life." Though there is the occasional worry about violence in the media or excessive celebrity influence on children, by and large popular entertainment - especially film - is seen as an escape from the concerns and struggles of our day-to-day existence. For many, in fact, this is the sole purpose of art. There are times, however, when a piece of art is able to tap into the very foundations of popular culture in such a way that it becomes more than mere entertainment, and becomes a cultural event unto itself, indiscernible from the elements of our "real" world.

It is hard to find a better example of such a crossover phenomenon than Mel Gibson's "The Passion of the Christ." That there is no need to summarize or introduce the film here is testament to its pervasiveness: like no movie event I can recall in my (limited) years, this film has ignited controversy and - forgive the pun - passionate debate on almost every level. The film, initially viewed as an independent gamble, has earned box office income comparable to blockbusters like "Lord of the Rings: Return of the King" and has reignited cultural debates that have raged for millennia.

The controversy began even before the movie was released. Churches and religious groups rented entire movie theaters in pre-emptive attempts to support Gibson's project. Despite knowing little to nothing about the film, religious leaders praised Gibson for his honesty and faith. The movie was shown to the Papacy, and the pope reportedly praised the film, claiming, "It is as it was." (This quote was later contested by the Vatican.) Gibson only fueled the fire; he boasted that agnostics and Muslims on the set of the movie had found their way to Jesus and denounced critics of the movie as "anti-Christian." On the other side, Jewish leaders worried about the film's depiction of Jewish people, worrying that it may stir anti-Semitic feelings by portraying Jews as solely responsible for Christ's death.

Now that viewers have had a chance to view and critique the movie, the scope of discussion regarding the film has expanded from the level of mere rumor and guesswork. Unfortunately, what I learned when sitting down for Gibson's brutal epic was that, in plain words, it almost doesn't seem worth the fuss; it certainly doesn't seem worth the $30 million that Gibson reportedly paid out of his own pocket for the film.

Some readers may already be aware of Gibson's liberties with certain accepted facts of the persecution of Christ. For example, the filmmaker's portrayal of Roman Gov. Pontius Pilate as a sympathetic and moral leader is entirely at odds with the historical Pilate, who was notorious even by Roman standards for brutality and intolerance towards the Jews (and Jesus, in fact). Gibson's strange decision to portray Caiphas and the pharisees as Christ's sole prosecutors does not deal very responsibility with the anti-Semitic question, to be sure.

Before going too far with such criticism, however, we should consider the view that films are not historical reports but rather vehicles for aesthetic expression and emotional affectation. Therefore, this argument goes, to judge "The Passion" on its merits as a historical document misses the point.

This argument is only helpful, however, if "The Passion" truly stands alone as a fine piece of cinematic achievement. Unfortunately, it fails to do that. "The Passion," despite its sacred subject matter, is in fact little more than a simplistic and juvenile experiment in cathartic cinema that attempts to win the viewer over by means of repetitious brutality and unrelenting gore. Theme, character development, subtlety and narrative are thrown aside and replaced with blood, pain and misery, as if the holiness of Gibson's intentions to create a "faithful" piece of work is supposed to win over the viewer. Unfortunately, high intentions do not make a work of art worthwhile. It is difficult to feel anything but impatience and disgust as one watches actor Jim Caviezel's skin torn from his body, or as he falls time after time in dramatic slow motion under the weight of his cross.

Movie critic David Denby, writing in the New Yorker, offered this succinct evaluation of the film: "The movie Gibson has made from his personal obsessions is a sickening death trip, a grimly unilluminating procession of treachery, beatings, blood and agony... Gibson is so thoroughly fixated on the scourging and crushing of Christ, and so meagerly involved in the spiritual meanings of the final hours, that he falls in danger of altering Jesus' message of love into one of hate."

This is, indeed, the great tragedy of the movie. With so much influence and financial sway, Gibson had the ability to bring those aspects of Christ's life to the screen that would have brightened the spirits of believers, and rewarded those who threw their support to the project without knowing the first thing about it. Instead, Gibson chooses to beat the viewer into submission with violence and dread, exploiting every trick of sensationalist cinema. In the end, it is Gibson's own passion for carnage that reduces his movie to such a repulsive and disappointing level.