The Passion of the Mel
Okay, just in time for the period of quiet seething by the Right as the most important movie in the history of Christendom was not nominated for best picture, best director, or best actor, I finally watched "The Passion of the Christ."
In short, it was okay, though I have to admit they got me when the Roman sadist guards dug that cat-o-nine tails thingey into his ribs. Ouch.
Some observations.
According to casting, Christ and his apostles were all Italian surfer guys.
According to make-up, Christ was a metrosexual dude, hip to the more recent trend of young males waxing their legs and chest.
According to Mel, children are, beneath their cute facades, really the spawn of Satan (that part resonated deeply for me).
According to Mel, Pontius Pilate was a pretty good guy (after all, he invented Pilates, didn't he?), troubled by political pressures from Ceasar ("next time, my blood spills"). At the same time, the Roman centurians were a bunch of thuggish sadists. And don't get me started with the Pharisees -- they look like caricatures of Nazi caricatures of Jews.
According to the cinematographer (who did receive a nomination), the Pieta was indeed carefully staged and should have, in reality, included Monica Bellucci.
As I said, it was ok. It certainly didn't deserve all of the furor that accompanied its release. Nothing in it was revolutionary, except that for moralists to hail it despite the over-the-top violence is a little bizarre. I do think that Gibson's genius was in recognizing the zeitgeist of victimhood that Christians have been asserting of late. He positioned himself as a Hollywood outsider (yes, despite "What Women Want") and made it seem as though a conspiracy was afoot to see that Christ's "last 12 hours" would go unseen. It just wasn't that powerful an affirmation of Christ on earth, and after a while the suffering is so relentless it ceases to seem like suffering. But it is perfect for our strange times. Christian conservatives can no doubt see themselves in a figure who is certainly not meek, who is beaten to a bloody pulp (literally), but who rises to march into the sun to a martial beat. With holes in his hands and feet.
Oh, and I did learn that, at least according to the way Aramaic was spoken in the film, Ceasar was pronounced Kaiser.
In short, it was okay, though I have to admit they got me when the Roman sadist guards dug that cat-o-nine tails thingey into his ribs. Ouch.
Some observations.
According to casting, Christ and his apostles were all Italian surfer guys.
According to make-up, Christ was a metrosexual dude, hip to the more recent trend of young males waxing their legs and chest.
According to Mel, children are, beneath their cute facades, really the spawn of Satan (that part resonated deeply for me).
According to Mel, Pontius Pilate was a pretty good guy (after all, he invented Pilates, didn't he?), troubled by political pressures from Ceasar ("next time, my blood spills"). At the same time, the Roman centurians were a bunch of thuggish sadists. And don't get me started with the Pharisees -- they look like caricatures of Nazi caricatures of Jews.
According to the cinematographer (who did receive a nomination), the Pieta was indeed carefully staged and should have, in reality, included Monica Bellucci.
As I said, it was ok. It certainly didn't deserve all of the furor that accompanied its release. Nothing in it was revolutionary, except that for moralists to hail it despite the over-the-top violence is a little bizarre. I do think that Gibson's genius was in recognizing the zeitgeist of victimhood that Christians have been asserting of late. He positioned himself as a Hollywood outsider (yes, despite "What Women Want") and made it seem as though a conspiracy was afoot to see that Christ's "last 12 hours" would go unseen. It just wasn't that powerful an affirmation of Christ on earth, and after a while the suffering is so relentless it ceases to seem like suffering. But it is perfect for our strange times. Christian conservatives can no doubt see themselves in a figure who is certainly not meek, who is beaten to a bloody pulp (literally), but who rises to march into the sun to a martial beat. With holes in his hands and feet.
Oh, and I did learn that, at least according to the way Aramaic was spoken in the film, Ceasar was pronounced Kaiser.
posted by John at 3:11 PM
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