The Passion of the Christ & the Miltonic Mission of Mel Gibson (2004)

The British media is thoroughly obsessed with the life and lusts of John Terry at the moment who, thanks in part to them, is England captain no more. They portray him as a demonic amoral charlatan, as the epitome of the outspoken, carefree self centred professional footballer stereotype. Whilst these (albeit rather priggish) allegations relate on some level to the facts, they seem to convenienty overlook the fact that John Terry is a footballer by trade, not a priest or some other figure of moral impecability, and it is surely by his footballing ability that he should be measured. In this respect, he deserves nothing less than our admiration.

Peeling back the alluring sensationalism of such media probes, the more inquisitive of us are left asking what on earth all this media witch-hunting has to do with John Terry the footballer. Unfortunately, it seems increasingly the case today that the word privacy has lost its meaning, and that we are stepping back into a world of Victorian puritanism in which we measure people with a purely moral yardstick. Like John Terry, Mel Gibson has had his professional life invaded by his private one. His alcohol lubricated potty-mouthed rants and general misdemeanours have earned him, like John Terry, a certain degree of media notoriety, to the point that prejudices of Mel Gibson the man infiltrate into and poison considerations of Mel Gibson the actor or Mel Gibson the director in much film criticism.



Amidst such persecution it is perhaps no wonder that Gibson turned to one of histories greatest martyrs, Jesus Christ, in a film that succeeded even Gibson's own colossal Oscar winning Braveheart in its ambition and scope. What was Gibson trying to do in this film? Well, as well as smash the world to bits with the thunderous power of the crucifiction story in all its bloody glory, he was trying to prove that he was a decent, christian, god-fearing guy just like me and you (apparently). Just as Milton in Paradise Lost was trying to 'justify the ways of god to man', The Passion of the Christ clearly represents an attempt on Gibson's part to to 'justify the ways of God, and Mel Gibson, to man'. Was the attempt successful? For all the film's supposed faults, Yes.

The plot is a familiar one, the story of Jesus' capture, trial and execution, as narrated in the New Testament. With the crucifiction story being so widely and well known, Gibson is primarily focused on exquisite styalistics in this film, with the idea being that accent and suggestion will lend gravity, depth and originality to what can only be described as the most frequently adapted story in the Bible. Right off the bat you are aware of the director's influence, having the whole film spoken in Aramaic (a variation of ancient Hebrew) is a huge gamble on Gibson's part. It could so easily have proved patience-testing for American audiences expecting the same dose of melodrama, action and classic Hollywood 1-liners that they got with the Lethal Weapon series and Braveheart. Gibson is stepping out of his comfort zone as a directorin this film, he challenges the audience to do the same.



The risk of alienating the audience was one he thought worth taking, and the risk paid off . Spoken word is used so sparingly, and spoken so emotively (Jesus's tearful reprimand to God in the garden of Gethsemone being the example in mind) that words become powerful enigmatic symbols of the people that speak them. For example, the opposition between the leaders of the Jewish church and Jesus is accentuated by the Jew's incessant ranting, and the protest of silence that Jesus maintains through much of the film by way of sharp contrast. Gibson hits on something quite profound here, he realises that the way in which something is said is more important than what is said. As such, the viewer is forced to realise a humanitarian connection that transcends the barriers of language; or culture, or time for that matter, a rare thing in Hollywood cinema, which usually panders to Western sensibilities and churns out *sigh* predictable, generic films chock a block with throwaway visuals and an incessant wall of noise throughout. Because of this, the audience has a very strong and human connection with the Jesus Christ of The Passion. We, as stunned spectators, share in Jesus' silence, we are constantly within a (sometimes uncomfortably) close proximity to him, Gibson is bringing us as close to the saviour we will ever get, in film at least. Far from alienate the audience, the use of Aramaic draws us into a metaphysical world of symbols, allegory, metaphor and most importantly silence (Jesus is a character defined by his silence, the muted martyr). It would appear, then, that for the duration of The Passion, Gibson is attempting to simulate the activity of prayer. Of course, one cannot watch a prayer, one must participate in it. For all The Passion's spectacle, Gibson doesnt want us to watch this film, he wants us to feel it, the results are extremely powerful.


I could also wax lyrical about the stunning visuals of this film, the subtle shifts in colour palettes, the quality of the camera lense to caputre the finest details(you witness Jesus' glistening blood quickly dry in the searing heat), even the barely discernable use of special effects (the fact that one physically whinces when the cat o' nine tails is planted into Jesus' side, then ripped out, revealing Jesus' rib cage is a cruel reminder of just how good the special effects are in this film) all contribute to a superb and engrossing richness in the film, far superior to Braveheart. But, as the recent Terminator: Salvation proves, excellent cinematogrophy and attention to technical matters alone are not the making of a film. And indeed, it is the portrayal of Jesus Christ that really marks this film out as a (dare I say it?) masterpiece.

In his direction of the character of Jesus, Gibson illustrates a great deal of artistic progression from his Braveheart glory days. The Passion's Jesus posseses a genuine gravity, a subtlety and emotional dexterity that Braveheart's William Wallace utterly lacks. Jesus, played by James Caviezel is every inch the Wallace-like inpenetrable fortress of strength and integrity that we expect him to be, but the progression from one dimensional Braveheart-esque hollywood heroics to rich multifaceted human is made brilliantly clear in this film. In so many ways similar to Scorsese's transgressive Jesus in The Last Temptation of Christ, Gibson's Jesus is frightened, lost, confused, stunned into silence, and the relentless bloodshed (for which Gibson has been heavily criticized) throughout really drives home the central point that Jesus is frail, weak, human. When Jesus is on the cross, he cannot muster the inspiring words that William Wallace screams on the wrack, he merely chokes, quite literally, in silence. Though the two films are in so many ways similar (both depicting the death of historical martyrs), it is hard to beleive that Braveheart and The Passion are directed by the same person. Why? because he has learned that sometimes, less is more. As such, we dont admire Jesus as a heroic archetype (as we do William Wallace), we relate to him as one relates to any other human being.

Of course, the film is not without its faults, and its critics. The historical accuracy of the film is heavily criticized. However, the crucifiction story is itself one of the most contentscious events in History there has ever been, and is constantly scrutinized and challenged in mainstream theological debates, so criticism on grounds of historical accuracy seems to be as ignorant as they are petty. Hand in hand with such criticism are allegations of racism in Gibson's portrayal of Jews in the film. This is a cheap shot indeed on the part of critics, especially given Gibson's high profile drunken racist slurs, for which he has on numerous occasions apologised. Gibson's portrayal of Jews is faithful to the biblical text in that he depicts their central impact in Jesus' death sentence, how else is Gibson meant to interpret the text? did the Jews tickle Jesus with feathers and beg Pontius Pilate not to crucify Jesus in the New Testament? I think not. Gibson is only as anti-semetic in this film as the New Testament is, critics seem to conveniently overlook the nature of the text from which this film originates, as if the crucifiction story was apparently a product of Gibson's anti-semetic imagination. To read such criticism is as infuriating as reading the philistine news reports about John Terry to which I earlier alluded.



In conclusion, Gibson attempted to do justice to one of the Bible's greatest and most controversial narratives, and succeeded by creating an unrelenting, dramatic film that was not overcome by the gravity and historical legacy of the story it adapted, yet remained profoundly true to the text's sentiment and spirit. The film's greatest achievement, which Gibson was instrumental in, was the rendering of Jesus Christ as a human, when so many other Biblical epics seem to glorify and eulogise to the point that we do not recognise Jesus as one of us, but as a heroic archetype or worse still chariceture. The Bible goes to great lengths to explain that Jesus was human, and only as a human could he bear the sins of humanity, by grasping this central concept Gibson has shown himself, in this seminal moment in his career as a director, to be an astute director of sound judgment and inspiring vision. Creating a film so dignified and magnanimous that critics were reduced to making philistine and petty criticism of the most superficial details in the film.



So the Miltonic mission was a huge success. Gibson, quite literally silenced his critics, and whilst we are enveloped in controversies about the man, time will prove a healer and like other famously controversial figures from history such as Malory, the Marquis de Sade and Oscar Wilde, we will eventually remember Mel Gibson for the right reasons. In this respect, it is perhaps no coincidence that Gibson created The Passion. In the face of relenless criticism, like Jesus he still had it in him to give something quite brilliant back to the people that jeered and berrated him. Despite the fact that Braveheart won him an Oscar, The Passion of the Christ will go down as Gibson's finest hour as an artistic director, and let us admire him all the more for it, given the adversities he faced.



Verdict: A masterpiece that will surely go down as one of film's great biblical epics. Long after the Oscar winning Braveheart has faded into obscurity, we will remember The Passion of the Christ; a remarkable interpretational achievement made all the more remarkable when we consider the jaded and all too fallible man that created it.