Two Decades on: The Passion of the Christ

Did you see The Passion of the Christ on the big screen in February 2004?

I didn’t; I was a toddler when the movie came out. Obviously, then, I didn’t watch it upon cinematic release. (I was probably sat on the carpet with a Fruit Shoot and a box of crayons, eyes transfixed on Thomas and the Magic Railroad; but enough about what I did last weekend.)

When I took leave of Thomas, I decided I’d regain some self-respect and see The Passion of the Christ for myself. I return to you, reader, after two viewings thereof, with a few thoughts; and I hope that you too will find a couple of hours to (re)watch Mel Gibson’s magnum opus. You won’t find anything as grandiose as a film review below; this is more like a notebook of observations, tenuously connected, on a great work of art.

How should we break down such a film, anyway? Well, the movie critic Roger Ebert, in his writeup, offers three levels on which an audience member might approach it: (1) ‘visceral’, (2) ‘theological’, and (3) ‘artistic’; and so, my piece too will consider each of these themes in their turn.

The Visceral

In terms of severity, the violence is only marginally worse than anything in, say, Game of Thrones; there’s just a lot more of it. We do receive regular breaks from the violence, via flashbacks based on other Gospel passages; but when this happens, it’s a fleetingly brief intermission. Two scenes were particularly hard to watch: the scourging and the driving-in of nails.

Gibson seems interested in the question, "How did Christ endure the violence levelled against him?”

If we search for an explanation in the film, then the relationship between Jesus and his mother forms the backbone of our answer; an intense exchange of eye-contact between the two characters, at every new test of resolve, gives Jesus the strength to get up and finish the job.

Gory scenes, like the brutal flogging sequence, contain The Passion’s best performances. Mary, the mother of Jesus, has to witness her whole reason for being — the Son, whom she bore in a Bethlehem stable — be torn apart in front of her eyes. Maia Morgenstern conveys this emotional ordeal masterfully. When, towards the climax, Mary begs of Jesus, “My son, let me die with you,” we know this is a woman as broken inside as the body of the man who hangs from the Cross.

Perhaps a minor point, or provocative side note, is the state of Christ’s resurrection body — depicted in the final, heroic scene. He has the traditional stigmata (holes in his hands) but everything else is healed. What does this reveal about our attitudes to violence and its effects? All of us know that if Christ had arisen with arms which pointed in opposite directions, it would’ve raised eyebrows. Broken limbs aren’t heroic, apparently, but external wounds are?

To those, and there are many, who reckon the violence in The Passion “excessive” I can only reply with an observation from Flannery O’Connor: “To the hard of hearing you shout, and for the almost blind you draw large and startling figures.”

In other words, an artist must use all the dramatic tools in their arsenal – yes, even the bluntest of instruments – to communicate a vision.

The Theological

There are lots of allusions to Bible stories other than that of Good Friday, so that we former theology students can pat ourselves on the back when we recognize them. For instance, Judas happens upon a goat’s rotten corpse with a rope around its muzzle. This is a reference to the Sheep and the Goats, or the Judgement of the Nations: “and he will separate the people from one another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats” (Matthew 25.32b, NIV); the sheep are the saved, and the goats are the damned. Evidently, Judas is in the latter category.

Mary Magdalene’s faithful presence as a bystander, and her occasional interventions, remind us of Ruth – “where you go, I will go” (1.16) – or the devoted lover from the Song of Solomon – “I will rise now and go about the city, / in the streets and in the squares; / I will seek him whom my soul loves” (3.2). With a few minor exceptions, the women in The Passion are, like most of the female characters whom we meet in the biblical canon, presented as fiercely loyal.

It’s clear the movie reflects the Bible as a whole, and not simply the Passion accounts alone. Here are a couple more: Gibson’s Jesus quotes Revelation 21.5, “I make all things new”; and in a Genesis 3.15 reference, he crushes a snake’s head underfoot in the Garden of Gethsemane. I’m sure this list of allusions in The Passion is far from exhaustive, and that other examples are available.

One scene where Gibson takes a little more creative license has a deformed infant cradled in the Devil’s arms. There are various interpretations of the symbolism at work, so let me toss another suggestion into the mix: I took Satan’s demon-baby to be representative of Original Sin: the perpetuation of evil from one generation to the next, and the corruption of our nature as a result.

Is it possible to derive a message from The Passion without a consideration of its theology? Probably, strange as this may sound. You could read it as an indictment of a primitive society without a post-enlightenment, liberal constitution: the mob is in control (“Give us Barabbas!”); and if it’s blood they crave, then blood they shall have. This interpretation, however, is weak; why focus, if the message is a secular one, on the Crucifixion of Christ, in particular?

The Artistic

It’s par for the course, when a production is two decades old, that some of the cinematography feels outdated. Judas Iscariot both catches his bag of silver coins and plants his Traitor’s Kiss on Jesus’s cheek in slow motion, as if this were an action film. The Matrix: Crucifixions, if you will.

Also shot in slow motion, typically from a low angle, are the scenes where Jesus collapses under the weight of his cross. Again, action star vibes. This happens one too many times in The Passion, more often than in either the Bible or the Stations of the Cross, to the point where the falls carry successively less impact. On the whole, this is a minor complaint.

John Debney’s music is low-key: daubs of atmospheric sound here and there to help with narration. Bizarrely, there was one point, when Christ staggers into view for the Crucifixion, where the music sounded like a theme from Borat. I’d be surprised if Borat were the composer’s intended goal here; it was, to say the least, incongruous. All in all, it’s not what you’d call a memorable soundtrack, which is actually no bad thing; you don’t watch a biblical adaption for the bangers.

On the visual front, Gibson uses color somewhat impressionistically. Silver-blue light establishes, from the very first, a sorrowful mood; after all, the Agony in the Garden is a Sorrowful Mystery, those who pray the Rosay will know. “My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death,” laments a despondent Jesus in the Bible (Matthew 26.38, KJV). When Christ is taken into Roman custody, the dominant color becomes, naturally, blood-red – “a color fit for a king,” an imperial soldier quips.

With regards to the cast, a female actor plays the role of Satan; this was an imaginative decision. It means the Devil, who resembles Lord Voldemort’s twin sister in this production, is the dramatic foil to the Blessed Virgin rather than to Christ, as would’ve been the case had a male actor portrayed Satan. To home in on their antagonistic relationship, Gibson has the two women exchange combative looks when Jesus leaves the consular palace to suffer crucifixion. Fiery stuff!

In Conclusion

The Passion of the Christ is a film which explores deep connections between violence, theology and art: potent forces which underlie much of human experience. Yes, in the paragraphs above, I’ve dealt with all these topics individually; to demonstrate how the movie brings them into conversation would require a much longer article (and a more learned author to write it!)

Instead, I recommend you gird your loins for a gritty couple of hours, then see the film for yourself and let it speak to you directly. Released in time for Lent in 2004, The Passion is just as powerful in 2024. Cinema can rekindle the spark of even the most oft-repeated stories; and such was Gibson’s achievement in The Passion, the movie whereby Christianity gripped a new generation.