THE PASSION OF CHRIST
BY ROGER EBERT, SUN-TIMES FILM CRITIC

If ever there was a film with the correct title, that film is Mel
Gibson's "The Passion of the Christ." Although the word passion has
become mixed up with romance, its Latin origins refer to suffering and
pain; later Christian theology broadened that to include Christ's love
for mankind, which made him willing to suffer and die for us.

The movie is 126 minutes long, and I would guess that at least 100 of
those minutes, maybe more, are concerned specifically and graphically
with the details of the torture and death of Jesus. This is the most
violent film I have ever seen.

I prefer to evaluate a film on the basis of what it intends to do, not
on what I think it should have done. It is clear that Mel Gibson wanted
to make graphic and inescapable the price that Jesus paid (as
Christians
believe) when he died for our sins. Anyone raised as a Catholic will be
familiar with the stops along the way; the screenplay is inspired not
so
much by the Gospels as by the 14 Stations of the Cross. As an altar
boy,
serving during the Stations on Friday nights in Lent, I was encouraged
to meditate on Christ's suffering, and I remember the chants as the
priest led the way from one station to another: "At the Cross, her
station keeping ... Stood the mournful Mother weeping ... Close to
Jesus
to the last."

For we altar boys, this was not necessarily a deep spiritual
experience.
Christ suffered, Christ died, Christ rose again, we were redeemed, and
let's hope we can get home in time to watch the Illinois basketball
game
on TV. What Gibson has provided for me, for the first time in my life,
is a visceral idea of what the Passion consisted of. That his film is
superficial in terms of the surrounding message -- that we get only a
few passing references to the teachings of Jesus -- is, I suppose, not
the point. This is not a sermon or a homily, but a visualization of the
central event in the Christian religion. Take it or leave it.

David Ansen, a critic I respect, finds in Newsweek that Gibson has gone
too far. "The relentless gore is self-defeating," he writes. "Instead
of
being moved by Christ's suffering or awed by his sacrifice, I felt
abused by a filmmaker intent on punishing an audience, for who knows
what sins."

This is a completely valid response to the film, and I quote Ansen
because I suspect he speaks for many audience members, who will enter
the theater in a devout or spiritual mood and emerge deeply disturbed.
You must be prepared for whippings, flayings, beatings, the crunch of
bones, the agony of screams, the cruelty of the sadistic centurions,
the
rivulets of blood that crisscross every inch of Jesus' body. Some will
leave before the end.

This is not a Passion like any other ever filmed. Perhaps that is the
best reason for it. I grew up on those pious Hollywood biblical epics
of
the 1950s, which looked like holy cards brought to life. I remember my
grin when Time magazine noted that Jeffrey Hunter, starring as Christ
in
"King of Kings" (1961), had shaved his armpits. (Not Hunter's fault;
the
film's Crucifixion scene had to be re-shot because preview audiences
objected to Jesus' hairy chest.)

If it does nothing else, Gibson's film will break the tradition of
turning Jesus and his disciples into neat, clean, well-barbered
middle-class businessmen. They were poor men in a poor land. I debated
Martin Scorsese's "The Last Temptation of Christ" with commentator
Michael Medved before an audience from a Christian college, and was
told
by an audience member that the characters were filthy and needed
haircuts.

The Middle East in biblical times was a Jewish community occupied
against its will by the Roman Empire, and the message of Jesus was
equally threatening to both sides: to the Romans, because he was a
revolutionary, and to the establishment of Jewish priests, because he
preached a new covenant and threatened the status quo.

In the movie's scenes showing Jesus being condemned to death, the two
main players are Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor, and Caiaphas, the
Jewish high priest. Both men want to keep the lid on, and while neither
is especially eager to see Jesus crucified, they live in a harsh time
when such a man is dangerous.

Pilate is seen going through his well-known doubts before finally
washing his hands of the matter and turning Jesus over to the priests,
but Caiaphas, who also had doubts, is not seen as sympathetically. The
critic Steven D. Greydanus, in a useful analysis of the film, writes:
"The film omits the canonical line from John's gospel in which Caiaphas
argues that it is better for one man to die for the people [so] that
the
nation be saved.

"Had Gibson retained this line, perhaps giving Caiaphas a measure of
the
inner conflict he gave to Pilate, it could have underscored the
similarities between Caiaphas and Pilate and helped defuse the issue of
anti-Semitism."

This scene and others might justifiably be cited by anyone concerned
that the movie contains anti-Semitism. My own feeling is that Gibson's
film is not anti-Semitic, but reflects a range of behavior on the part
of its Jewish characters, on balance favorably. The Jews who seem to
desire Jesus' death are in the priesthood, and have political as well
as
theological reasons for acting; like today's Catholic bishops who were
slow to condemn abusive priests, Protestant TV preachers who confuse
religion with politics, or Muslim clerics who are silent on terrorism,
they have an investment in their positions and authority. The other
Jews
seen in the film are viewed positively; Simon helps Jesus to carry the
cross, Veronica brings a cloth to wipe his face, Jews in the crowd cry
out against his torture.

A reasonable person, I believe, will reflect that in this story set in
a
Jewish land, there are many characters with many motives, some good,
some not, each one representing himself, none representing his
religion.
The story involves a Jew who tried no less than to replace the
established religion and set himself up as the Messiah. He was
understandably greeted with a jaundiced eye by the Jewish establishment
while at the same time finding his support, his disciples and the
founders of his church entirely among his fellow Jews. The libel that
the Jews "killed Christ" involves a willful misreading of testament and
teaching: Jesus was made man and came to Earth in order to suffer and
die in reparation for our sins. No race, no man, no priest, no
governor,
no executioner killed Jesus; he died by God's will to fulfill his
purpose, and with our sins we all killed him. That some Christian
churches have historically been guilty of the sin of anti-Semitism is
undeniable, but in committing it they violated their own beliefs.

This discussion will seem beside the point for readers who want to know
about the movie, not the theology. But "The Passion of the Christ,"
more
than any other film I can recall, depends upon theological
considerations. Gibson has not made a movie that anyone would call
"commercial," and if it grosses millions, that will not be because
anyone was entertained. It is a personal message movie of the most
radical kind, attempting to re-create events of personal urgency to
Gibson. The filmmaker has put his artistry and fortune at the service
of
his conviction and belief, and that doesn't happen often.

Is the film "good" or "great?" I imagine each person's reaction
(visceral, theological, artistic) will differ. I was moved by the depth
of feeling, by the skill of the actors and technicians, by their desire
to see this project through no matter what. To discuss individual
performances, such as James Caviezel's heroic depiction of the ordeal,
is almost beside the point. This isn't a movie about performances,
although it has powerful ones, or about technique, although it is
awesome, or about cinematography (although Caleb Deschanel paints with
an artist's eye), or music (although John Debney supports the content
without distracting from it).

It is a film about an idea. An idea that it is necessary to fully
comprehend the Passion if Christianity is to make any sense. Gibson has
communicated his idea with a singleminded urgency. Many will disagree.
Some will agree, but be horrified by the graphic treatment. I myself am
no longer religious in the sense that a long-ago altar boy thought he
should be, but I can respond to the power of belief whether I agree or
not, and when I find it in a film, I must respect it.

Note: I said the film is the most violent I have ever seen. It will
probably be the most violent you have ever seen. This is not a
criticism
but an observation; the film is unsuitable for younger viewers, but
works powerfully for those who can endure it. The MPAA's "R" rating is
definitive proof that the organization either will never give the
"NC-17" rating for violence alone, or was intimidated by the subject
matter. If it had been anyone other than Jesus up on that cross, I have
a feeling that "NC-17" would have been automatic.