Passion Play Thursday, February 26, 2004

A good take on the movie from a guy who knows whereof he speaks. Maybe I overreacted to the Jewish themes? Dunno. A key passage:

There is a complication, however, in that the film—in an unusual but by no means unprecedented way—portrays Pontius Pilate sympathetically. His “What is truth?” is presented not as cynically dismissive but as earnestly inquiring. So who are left as the really, really bad guys, the people who hated Jesus and were adamant that he be killed? By default, the answer is: the religious leaders and the mob they whip into a frenzy of bloodlust, all of whom are Jewish. But then, so are the members of the Sanhedrin who protest the proceedings, so are a large number in the crowd who are depicted as sympathizing with Jesus, so are Mary and the disciples, and, above all, so is Jesus. Jews one and all.

All that being said, is it possible that untutored viewers will come away from the film with the distinct impression that “the Jews” killed Jesus? It is more than possible. The same impression is more than possibly gained by reading the Gospel accounts, especially the Fourth Gospel. The film, with a few embellishments drawn from traditional piety, closely tracks the Gospels. The undeniable reality is that the salvation story—in all its dimensions of darkness and light, hatred and love, faith and unbelief—is enacted within the history of God’s chosen people, the children of Israel. It is, through and through, an intra-Jewish story. How odd of God indeed, but so it was and, in ways that St. Paul calls a great mystery, so it is and will be until the End Time.

@ 9:22:00 AM, ,

Lenten Entertainment Wednesday, February 25, 2004

One of the joys of blogging is getting thoughtful notes from readers. Why, just yesterday I got this little missive:

I tire of secret things and where are the reviews of non-gay music?

We aim to please here at Wrong Turn Journal. So here's my take on Mel Gibson's movie. (Yeah, yeah, it's not music, but whatever.)

The trouble is that Mel Gibson is not Martin Scorsese and vice versa. This movie and The Last Temptation of Christ have precisely complementary virtues and flaws. Last Temptation is gorgeous to look at and listen to: Scorsese’s been making movies for decades, and he puts every gluon of his talent into making old Jerusalem, and two-thousand year-old people all of us know from stories, come alive. The landscape, the buildings, the temple--everything looks gritty and barren and perfect. The disciples talk like the plain, tough guys we know them to be. The only thing wrong with the movie, in fact, is Jesus. Willem DaFoe plays him like a hand-wringing hippie, dishing out the mishmash of newageisms and misheard Buddhism that’s the closest Hollywood comes to spirituality. He might as well be Yoda.

Gibson’s Jesus, on the other hand, is damn near perfect. He is warm and human and strong--even funny, in an interpolated scene with his mother. Scorsese’s Jesus would have been forgotten by Monday morning. Whatever the genuine article was like, he was probably closer to Gibson’s vision: magnetic and commanding without being hard and distant.

Unfortunately, the movie’s not a one-man show. The rest of the cast is capable but not stellar (the actress playing Mary being a remarkble exception). Most of the scenes are shot in tight close-ups; you never get a sense of the scope of the world. Which is fair enough: It’s a movie about the suffering of one man. But at times it feels like Gibson’s shooting that way because he doesn’t have any better ideas.

The violence is brutal but strangely objective. We feel the pain, but we’re supposed to identify with the abusers at the same time (all of us being complicit in the crime). So the Roman guards come off like drunken jarheads, the temple guards like sneeering bouncers. This works up to a point, but Gibson keeps going for the exclamation point. Somebody else gives Jesus a shove, or pulls out an even bigger cat-o-nine-tails. The devil keeps showing up, as an albino oddball, as intrusive and laughable as the subliminal ghost-face from The Exorcist. Herod is as mincing as Josh Mostel in Jesus Christ Superstar, but half as convincing. The music is generic.

Then there’s the Jewish stuff. Oy. This is tough for me to write, because going in I’d read lots of reviews--by Christians and Jews alike--that cleared Gibson of anti-semitism. The charge seemed more like a convenient excuse to beat up on a guy who was making an unironic, undeconstructive religious statement and refused to back down from his principles. But...there’s something to it all.

One of the best aspects of Scorsese’s movie is that he gives you a quick and dirty history lesson along the way. He more or less pretends you’ve never heard the story, so he builds it up from scratch, filling in background as he goes. So you get to understand what kind of threat Jesus posed to the established priesthood: Imagine me, or you, a nobody, a schlep, walking into the house of worship of your choice and announcing not only that you were God, but that you were going to tear down this religion and rebuild it on your own back. Imagine the reception you’d receive, then transplant it into an era with rougher notions of human dignity and the efficacy of violence. Imagine it among a people trying to preserve the dignity of their religion, and the cohesion of their nation, while under the thumb of an occupying power.

Scorsese captures all that in one breathtaking scene, where Jesus confronts the chief priest on the steps of the temple. The priest explains why there is a foreign exchange outside the building; the worshippers should use money with images of pagan gods on it? What would Jesus have them do? Willem Defoe shoots back, “You think you’re special? God is not an Israelite.” You feel it down in your gut. You understand what Jesus meant--not just to the powers that were, but to the average Jew. He meant the end of everything. You thought you were the Chosen People? I’ve got news for you--the whole world is chosen, including those goons who are descrating your temple right now. In the face of that, how quick should anyone be to assign blame?

Even the otherwise appalling Jesus Christ Superstar nails the politics of it. The crowds love him because they think he’s going to overthrow Rome. When things get ugly, they turn on him--everybody loves a hero, even better when he takes a tumble.

Gibson doesn’t do any of that. He starts at Gethsemane and moves swiftly to the Sanhedrin. It is uncomfortable to watch. There is no background for their accusations, no broader context at all; even with the albino devil moving between them, you know who the real bad guys are. Particularly since Gibson goes easy on the Italians. Pilate wrings his hands before washing them, and his chief lieutenant is always hovering around the sadistic guards, furrowing his brow at them. Sure, it’s the Romans who dish out the worst torture, but you’re clearly left with the impression that it’s a few “bad apples” doing that, whereas the Romans in general aren’t bad. With the priests it’s the opposite: They’re all malevolent, and the good guys are the exceptions. They feel tossed in, in fact (“If we have two guys protesting the verdict, that should balance out the ten who found him guilty”).

The broader trouble, I guess, is that Gibson’s Jesus isn’t very Jewish, as Scorsese’s Jesus was. Last Temptation very consciously situates Christ in his heritage: He was born a Jew and preached to his own people first before broadening his message to the gentiles. His followers are very, very obviously Jewish. Gibson’s vision doesn’t have room for any of that. Christ’s message, and Christ himself, is not put in that context, so you’re left to draw your own conclusions.

Let me be clear: Gibson doesn’t say anything about Jewish responsibility that the gospels don’t say. He doesn’t demonize. But he doesn’t explain why they did what they did.

The stock answer is: We are all part of “the crowd” that condemned Jesus. Their sin is on all of us; we condemn him every day in small ways and large. The problem is, we all have our reasons for doing it. The movie shows us Pilate waffling because he’s afraid of pissing off Caesar. The movie doesn’t show us the priesthood and pharisees getting angrier and angrier, trying to figure out what to do, then deciding Jesus has left them no alternative. That’s not necessarily anti-semitic, but it’s certainly not fair.

Thumbs up? In spots the movie took my breath away. The flashback to Mary Magdalene’s stoning (in the gospel, it’s NOT HER, but that’s another issue) is as elegant and poignant and artsy as anything in Scorsese’s film. And you can't help but be moved by, well, the passion of it all. As I said, Scorsese ain't Gibson: Martin made a movie that felt empty at the core because he doesn't believe. Gibson does, and it shows. It doesn't have the surface plausibility of Scorsese's movie, but it's got the heart and the guts.

On the other hand, I wish he would've used his head a little too. Mel, pull back. Mel, enough with the blood. Mel, have the high priests explain themselves already. I know the gospel doesn’t let them, but the gospel doesn’t have a pullback shot of the devil going “Bleeeeeah!” when Jesus dies, either.

See it. Make up your own mind.

@ 2:08:00 PM, ,

Solid Air Tuesday, February 24, 2004

Yikes, I've been away a long time. A long worky weekend: I finished up the big chapter of the Secret Thing #1 I thought I'd finished up about a week ago, and then Tom Sawyered myself into painting the living room. Meanwhile, I tried to figure out if I want to work where I think I want to work. I just haven't had any good thoughts to spare.

Meanwhile, a big day for Secret Thing #3. More later.

@ 7:34:00 AM, ,