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(More customer reviews)One of the most talked about films in decades; thought I would add my 2 cents as a late entry.
I think the root controversy about the film has to do with the question of whether or not it has artistic merit for a viewer without faith. I think this is a fair question, as I never really understood the idea that religion offers, so to speak, an excuse for ugly artwork. Arguably there is no such excuse, unless one of the points of religious art is to repel people who don't already share the faith.
The film has been labeled violent, which it is; but unfair here has been the label that it is in some sense unusually violent. It is not. There are hundreds of films that are far more violent. Perhaps this film is even less violent than average. It is perhaps even less violent than the blockbuster version of Gandhi of some years back, billing Candice Bergen and Ben Kingsley, of which the Passion has reminded me somewhat; at any rate they are at least in the same ball park. Rather, the distinctive mark of the Passion is that it invites us to keep the humanity of the victim of violence in full view; not to distance ourselves by, say, feeling contempt or anger towards the victim as a bump-off-able bad guy, or seeing the victim as a replaceable curiosity, a dispensable nitwit. In the Gandhi movie, for example, the majority of the acts of violence are against victims who are more or less, cinematically speaking, dispensable nitwits. All we see Gandhi suffer is being shot at the end (and even that, at the beginning also, setting up a flashback)-and a few blows to the head (from which he recovers).
Yet the character to suffer the violence in this film is not only the main character, it is a character who is anything but a dispensable nitwit. He is unambiguously portrayed as is in the Gospels--a perfect human being-and more: a Divine Person. No doubt faith is helpful here, but if the viewer can so much as entertain the premise as a possibility, then I would say that the movie is as beautiful as it is emotionally powerful. Yet even apart from that premise, the film also powerfully portrays deep love and friendships between human beings, which has surely a beauty of its own even under heart wrenching circumstances. Moreover, in what is surely one of, if not the most violent sequences in the film-the scourging (the soldiers carrying out the order, one in particular, wind up going over the top in enthusiasm)-we only see the victim about half the time; the rest of the time we see shots of peoples' faces, notably his friends, mostly of the face of his mother. The film does show us the anatomical side of the violence enough so that we really understand what is happening-but no more; the point is what it MEANS for it to be happening. In this film suffering is given a human face.
It is quite a unique experience. First, breaking out of the package of being "mere cinema," there are two points of honesty of the film even apart from any faith claim. (1) by all serious accounts, Jesus of Nazareth was at the least an exceptional human being; yet death by crucifixion was no walk in the park. (2) by all serious reflections, in one way or another-regardless of how you slice it (whether from the point of view of any religion or from the point of view of atheism)-humanity really hasn't treated God any better than the main character gets treated in this film. This is a film which portrays God as staying with humanity despite the way it has treated him (and the way human beings have treated each other). The violence is not for it own sake; still less is it for the sake either of sadism--or of a narrator stepping off the screen to address the audience with guilt trips (shaming and flagellating the viewer)--; it is for the sake of thoughtfully presenting this possibility in an artistic way. Second, rather that allowing the audience the space to distance themselves from characters undergoing violence, this film actually does the opposite: it prods the audience to see NONE of the characters as dispensable nitwits, not even those who are committing the violence. The anti-Semitism charge is simply a non-sequitur. It's not anti-anybody.
The film visually portrays what I have described without being artificial or saccharine, invoking a remarkable depth for symbolism and a good sense of timing; it plainly succeeds in telling a story blending sight and sound. I will give two examples which I found especially powerful; they are even related. One is where the film shifts back and forth from shots of the feet of the roman soldiers standing in pools of his blood as they scourge him, to shots of the feet of the Apostles as he was symbolically washing them. The other is a subtle, nonverbal portrayal of the conversion of a roman soldier which spans in a sense the entire film. This conversion story is visually framed from the film's opening scenes when a temple guard has his ear miraculously restored after it is sliced off in a struggle by one of the Apostles. The guard remains for some time on his knees, as if so overcome by the experience he cannot move. The roman solider to be converted is subtly introduced in the next scenes (he is one of the soldiers Mary Magdalene complains to about the arrest), but we see him from time to time throughout the movie, witnessing and being influenced by various events; in a final scene, blood and water falls upon his eyes, flowing from the side of the deceased victim that he pierces with a lance (though first non-verbally apologizing to the mother; he does it merely to confirm he is dead), and he falls to his knees in a way which resonates with the action of the temple guard. The temple guard, so to speak, had his hearing restored; the roman soldier, so to speak, his sight. On the side of deep friendships, notable are the relationships between Jesus, his mother, Mary Magdalene and the youngest Apostle, John. One moment uniting this dimension to the above examples is when John stumbles and falls on his knees before the two Marys (running to them to tell them of Jesus' arrest)-to be followed by John later seeing Mary's agony as she watches her son fall to his knees as he carries the cross. The kneeling image in general is itself also framed by beautiful opening and closing scenes invoking a folding together of earth and sky (the first providing the backdrop of Jesus falling to his knees in his agony in the garden; the second entailing powerful from-the-ground-up and from-the-sky-down shots of the moment of his death on the cross). Here resonating throughout is the film's awesome musical score. I would add that the use of Aramaic in the film punctuated with subtitles was nothing less than masterful; I am not even aware of the film being in a "foreign language."
Acting was good but special mention needs to go to Maia Morgenstern, who played the mother. In interviews she said she played the character from the point of view of a mother who loved her son; the result is one of the most moving and beautiful character portrayals in all of cinema.
If you are looking for popcorn-eating entertainment, this is not the film to watch. (Even during gladiatorial times at the Colosseum this movie would have gotten thumbs down.) But if you are in the mood for a thought-provoking treatment of religious themes in a serious, sensitive and artistic way, then by all means see the film.
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The Passion of the Christ focuses on the last twelve hours of Jesus of Nazareth's life. The film begins in the Garden of Olives where Jesus has gone to pray after the Last Supper. Jesus must resist the temptations of Satan. Betrayed by Judas Iscariot, Jesus is then arrested and taken within the city walls of Jerusalem where leaders of the Pharisees confront him with accusations of blasphemy and his trial results in a condemnation to death.
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