Rabbi Dennis

First, let me say this: This is not a film about the Jews. Whatever the problems with the early script, the whole issue of Jews has moved to background in the version released to the screen. More about that later.

The Passion is an idiosyncratic work about the death of Jesus of Nazareth. Clearly there is little or no distance between the director and his subject. At the same time, Mel is a sophisticated film maker, so he constantly strives not just for an expression of his faith, but also for cinema. As a result, he avoids the worst sin of religious films like The Gospel According to John or Left Behind: approaching the subject with such mawkish reverence that the resulting film seems flat and one-dimensional to the non-believer. The Passion is both beautifully filmed and utterly heartfelt. On the other hand…

What a dark and angry place Mel’s heart must be. But that’s not unique. One critic has said that this is a movie for the times, but only if the times happen to be the 14th Century. I laughed when I read that, but I disagree. This is a very 21st Century film. It's graphic violence, with the camera's unblinking, slow-motion (Mel loves slow motion) focus on torn flesh and flying blood is perfectly in sync with contemporary film making conventions. Violence in many movies today has become what guitar solos were to rock concerts in the 1980s: inescapable, relentless, repetitive, and virtually interminable. In film after film, from The Matrix to Windtalkers to Kill Bill, we get scene after scene of action sequences, lovingly filled with gore and disintegrating bodies. Violence is now drawn out, in even top-shelf Hollywood movies, far beyond any illustrative and edifying purposes. It has become as gratuitous as the armies of naked coeds that once populated Teen exploitation films.

If I were to compare The Passion to any other recent film, the closest parallel I can think of is Blackhawk Down, director Ridley Scott's gritty, visually overwhelming account of the chaotic 1993 battle between US Rangers and Somali militiamen. Like Blackhawk Down, The Passion is a kind of war film. Also like BD, it is not so much a movie, with plot, character, and conventions, as it is a cinematic experience: neither film is really a pleasure to watch; both instead strive to give the senses a thorough and violent working over. Finally, like BD, The Passion provides the viewer with little context. There is no real character development, no build up narrative to orient the viewer, and little sensory relief in order to process the images. The viewer is simply plunged into the crisis and left to make sense of it all on his or her own.

This approach makes more sense in an actual war movie. Scott gave us a taste of the absurdities, the randomness, and the nihilism that overtake men in real-time combat. By contrast, the suffering and death of Jesus is supposed to make sense of the world, yet Gibson gives us precious little to work from except our own predispositions and expectations. Those who come with the meaning of Jesus' death already imprinted on their souls will have their faith strengthened by witnessing the gruesome pain he endures on their behalf. Someone like me, who understands the ideas, yet in faith cannot accept the premise that God holds blood and suffering to be the gold standard of faith, is left more disturbed than inspired. And I fear that for a person with little or no familiarity with the Gospels or Christian doctrine, The Passion will seem more like an exercise in cruelty than a revelation of faith.

This decontextualization is true about the much feared antisemitism as well. Mel has indeed made use of stock images of Jews. Some viewers may come away with only what they see on the screen: There is a good guy (Jesus) and a bad guy and his henchmen (Caiaphas, the priesthood), and the good guy is tortured -- why? -- because the bad guys enjoy it. More troubling is that everybody in the movie actually gets a turn at showing their ambivalence about the whole business, except the High Priest. He’s just bad to the bone. Now Caiaphas was no noble figure; he was a Roman collaborator and stooge. But I bet he had a motive cooperating with the Romans to get rid of this would-be king. The Gospels themselves suggest he did it out of fear that the Jesus movement would bring the wrath of the Romans down upon his people. So why is it that in The Passion we see the broken humanity of Pilate, the brutal occupier, while Caiaphas, his servant, is a one-dimensional villain? Most egregious, Mel leaves us with the impression that the Roman overlord is afraid of his own Jewish puppet. Still, the images rise to the level of antisemitic only if you already know what you are looking for. Viewers without a background in the supposed perfidy of Jews, so central to medieval passion narratives, will have difficulty telling the players without a scorecard. The Romans in their lorica armor and caligea sandals are as much iconic villains as the black shrouded priests. Neither the Jewishness of Jesus nor the population is much addressed. I am not yet sure whether this is a good thing or a bad thing. While the film doesn’t emphasize the Jewishness of Jesus’ antagonists, neither does it much acknowledge the Jewishness of Jesus and his followers. Mel has given us a thoroughly Catholic Savior. It will be interesting to see if any overtly antisemitic scenes are resurrected on the DVD, but frankly the theatrical release fingers Caiaphas as the designated “bad guy,” and that’s about it.

In sum I would say this film is less “The greatest story ever told” and more the “greatest Rorschach ever given.” What you get out of The Passion will largely depend on what you bring to it. Christians may find it inspiring, Jews may find stereotypes, and antisemites may find their prejudices vindicated, but most non-Christians will simply struggle to find a point of reference.

(This review appeared in the Denton Record Chronicle)