USA, 2004
Director: Mel Gibson
Cast: Jim Caviezel, Monica Bellucci

I really don’t know how to review this.

After watching it, I have so many mixed emotions. Part of me wants to go out and make the world a better place where an injustice like this will never happen again, but then there’s another part that knows I have to get up in the morning and go back to work and be in the real world where there’s no time for all that.

I know that I’m going to have to go back out into the world where so-called Christians are going to curse me, scream at me or act like I’m the anti-Christ because we’re sold out of tickets for this movie.  I know that there are going to be people walking out of this hating Jews more than ever. I know that there are going to be those that leave learning nothing.

And I guess that’s what saddens me most about this film—the entire “well-meaning” audience. But you know, I don’t want to talk about that. I don’t want to talk about the audiences who have acted decidedly un-Christian at the theater or even about my own personal disillusion with religion on whole. I want to talk about the film itself.

I put aside the cynicism. Put aside the hatred that modern Christians have instilled in us and turned many of you against religion. Put aside all the prejudices and pre-conceived notions that we may have about this film.

You have to.

The Passion of the Christ is a beautiful, brutal epic that may go down as one of the greatest films ever made. And I say this not as a Christian (I am actually a non-practicing bad Catholic), but as a film critic and a film lover. But even more than that, I say that as a human who has witnessed far too much injustice and evil in his own life—so much that, like so many of my generation, that I have become practically desensitized to it—yet as I watched the film, I was reduced to tears throughout the whole thing.

Gone is the clean-cut Aryan Jesus of the ’50’s, with only one drop of blood dripping down is forehead—we’re now shown a realistic Jesus, cut to shreds and beaten beyond recognition. A Jesus that is actually fearful of his future. A Jesus that is more human than any film has ever dared to portray him (with the minor exception of The Last Temptation of Christ).

Chronicling the final hours of Jesus Christ, The Passion is a stark, atmospheric, lush retelling, but in no way a retread of previous versions. Mel Gibson has created a visceral, bloody world where you feel every sting of the whip and every barb of the thorn. Every inch of the screen fills with images that you can’t shake out of your head—from the whips with hooks that rips out flesh to the demons that taunt Judas—it’s a nightmarish visage that needs to be seen, not because it’s saying that you should believe this or you should practice that, but because it’s the ultimate story, the ultimate dissertation of man’s cruelty to man—one that goes on today, whether we like it or not.

In a lot of ways, its message reminds me of another powerful film, Schindler’s List. Like that film was about a man trying to save those from the madness around him, The Passion uses Jesus basically as a case study in redemption and hope. And while that may dissuade many modern Christians who want the film to be simpler than that, I feel that that makes the message of the film—a plea for tolerance, understanding and forgiveness—only more universal.

James Caviezel’s Christ is subdued and barely speaks. He doesn’t need to—I’ve never seen an actor convey so much with just a few facial expressions. The same goes for Maia Morgenstern, who’s Mary is one of the best portrayed roles I have ever seen on film. Like Caviezel’s, her role is mainly one of looks and expressions, but I have never seen someone with so much pain in their face as when she’s witnessing her son carrying the cross to it’s final resting place.  Monica Bellucci, as Mary Magdalene, is understated perfection. Particularity moving is the flashback where Jesus saved her from being stoned by Pharisees—once again, no words, just images and expressions, yet they all say so much.

The decision to have the dialogue entirely in Aramaic and Latin is brilliantly inspired and only add to it’s air of authenticity. I know many of you hate subtitles, but there is so little dialogue, you tend to forget they’re even there.

As for the controversy as to whether the film is anti-Semitic or not: the Jewish priests who condemn Christ are not representative of Jewish people on whole as many have claimed—they are more representative of all religious leaders who defile the beliefs of their congregation though underhanded means, from Catholic priests who cover up molestations to televangelists that steal the money of the elderly for their own wealth. It is indictive of all of us who have ever looked the other way whenever we knew a grave injustice was occurring and decided it was none of our business. Instead of focusing on who it’s offending, people need to focus on themselves and ask themselves if they are living the best possible life they can.

The Passion doesn’t preach. It doesn’t try to convert. It may sicken you, disgust you, shock you or make you want to change your life. Everyone will come away with something different.

It won’t entertain you.

It won’t be the feel good hit of the year.

But I dare anyone to leave this film unmoved.

Review by Louis Fowler.