 |
2-D SAMSARA Blood Traffic
By Meera Francois
|
|
| 'THE HOLY GHOST WAS WORKING THROUGH ME on this film; I was just direct-ing traffic," said Mel Gibson of his recent release The Passion of the Christ. While this may account for Gibson’s lack of attention to the actual craft of narrative and character development throughout the film, it nevertheless expresses the riveting passion with which the project itself was approached. Despite its drawbacks, there is a clarity of emotional depth which propels The Passion forward—on a tide of blood and suffering. Concentrating on the last twelve hours of Jesus' life, The Passion is about the man's death, more than anything else, and this is something of a weakness. We are brought into the story on the night of his capture; none of the characters are ever introduced to us, in this scene or throughout the film. We catch their names in the dialogue, sometimes long after they've appeared on screen. We are not given their backgrounds, including that of Jesus, and as a result, the secondary characters -- and all of Jesus’ supporters -- tend to fade into the framework quite often. The motivations of the Romans, while discussed, seem to rise out of nowhere, like the rest of the film. The motivation of the Jewish Priests is explained, but we are given little in terms of their humanity to identify with; they act as a sort of formless mass. This seemed a gap throughout the film. I suppose the assumption is that we all know the basic story, in one version or another. But that is precisely why this tactic does not work well on screen; interpretations of the Christ story are as numerous as the drops of blood splattering this two-hour epic. Presented as a historical snapshot, albeit overlaid with invented religious symbolism (a snake, a storm, a crow pecking a man's eyes out, a figure meant to represent "Satan"), it seems the director would’ve considered it superfluous to provide a background context; this is very awkward. We are only introduced to Jesus (James Caviezel) at this point at the end of his life wherein he has grown quieter, and almost lethargic, accepting that this is the end of his role on earth. The Jesus who pissed off the Romans, the Jewish Priests, and just about everyone else who didn’t buy into him, isn't really shown to us. We never meet the man who broke Roman law, caused public havoc, stirred peoples’ souls with his charisma, attitude, and a striking message about love. Thus we are presented with a rather languid film character to sympathize with, not being shown his history on-screen. Was the film anti-Semitic? To me, no; this movie is an historical interpretation of a cloudy event, and based fairly in the information available: that Jesus was executed by the Romans and condemned by Pontius Pilate is known; the extent to which the Jewish Priests played a role is debatable. I can say, however, that this film presented good and bad Romans, and good and bad Jews. It is libelous to claim that this movie presented all Jews as evil and bloodthirsty. Which brings us to the abundant gore and violence. Extreme? Certainly. Out of place? Not in the slightest. And to suggest that this movie is primarily about that violence is not out of line either; in fact, I would suggest it is the film’s most important and enduring statement. Gibson attempts no blunt theological interpretation of why Jesus had to die; his mission was on one level historical—to present, without shying away, the sheer brutality of the torture and execution of Christ. Reviewer J. Lee Grady of Charisma magazine said, “In this movie’s case, the R stands for Real.” Viewers have walked away from the graphic scenes of beatings, whippings, other torture, and the crucifixion itself in utter revulsion. Two hours of predominately that—torture. The film is brutal on many audience members’ psyches, somewhat as the beatings displayed were on the man portrayed. Yet, this horror has been misdirected at the film by many audience members. What if instead, viewers were to ask themselves the true source of their repulsion? They would then turn to what the film portrayed without fear, and perhaps even compare it to the true event. This is what really happened; crucifixions and the events leading up to them were never meant to be humane; they were meant to be hell on earth for the men who endured them. This is the fate that was truly, historically delivered by humanity (Jews? Romans? Does it even matter?) to a man who preached to them only Love. We must stop running away from this. If that cruelty tore the flesh from a great man, it tore an even deeper wound in the human spirit. This is the powerful spiritual contribution of Gibson’s film; the torment he inflicts on the audience itself, and the passion with which he does it. It has been suggested that Gibson’s viciousness in The Passion borders on the sadistic. In the sense that it was meant to pain the audience, this is a fair accusation, but one that should be honored rather than damned. Through the faculty of this explicit, unabridged graphic depiction of the slow death of Jesus by his killers, Gibson has rendered evil into a physical form visible to the eyes. We are made to face not only the atrocity of history, but the very shape and nature of evil—and our own vulnerability to its destructive force. |
||
| 17-year-old Meera Francois is a key player in The Manifest empire. She resides in the D.C. area and digs goth music and Dune. Also by Meera: West Side Stories. |
©2003-2004 The Manifest E-Zine