The following is Marjorie Suchocki's review of Mel Gibson's "The Passion of the Christ." An abbreviated version of this review appears in the L.A. Times.

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Mel Gibson?s The Passion of the Christ and the Sacralization of Violence

The love-affair with violence that so dogs American culture and cinema paradoxically receives its expression, legitimation, and condemnation in this bloodiest of all the Jesus films ever made. Blood oozes, drips, spurts, and pours for almost two hours of unrelieved violence. Mel Gibson goes far beyond descriptions of Christ?s passion in any of the four gospels to depict sadism and rage given full vent upon a non-resistant victim. One recalls the tapes of police brutality against Rodney King, or gruesome accounts of the pleasure taken in the death of Matthew Shepherd, to begin to account for Gibson?s enthrallment with the human ability to take pleasure in inflicting pain.

If we turn to the gospels of Matthew and Mark, we read that Christ was spat upon and slapped during his first encounter with Caiaphas, and that the next day, following the release of Barabbas, the Roman soldiers spat at Jesus and beat him with a reed after mocking him. While the gospel of Luke uses 57 verses to describe passion events prior to the crucifixion, only two of these verses speak of Jesus being mocked and beaten while in custody. The gospel of John records a single officer striking Jesus in front of the high priest, and a later scourging ordered by Pilate. But Gibson begins his torture of Christ soon after the opening of the film when Christ is apprehended in the Garden of Gethsemane. From that moment on, Gibson has Jesus beaten, thrown over a cliff in chains, dragged up again, and beaten almost without cessation for the remainder of the film. Gibson?s characters wield whips with multiple flesh-clawing barbs; when they have torn the flesh from his back, they turn him over and continue the savagery on his face and torso, all the while laughing gleefully. Nor does this torture stop when Jesus is finally forced to carry his cross: he is whipped and stoned without remission, all the way to Golgotha. When he is finally hanging on the cross, the two thieves also crucified hang there without any blemish on their bodies save the crucifying nails, but Jesus is battered and bloodied beyond recognition.

How is this violence legitimized? Gibson suggests, through Satanic asides in Gethsemane (interestingly, the gospels portray an angel with Jesus; Gibson substitutes the devil?and the devil, of course, is portrayed by a woman), that such punishment is the due of one who bears the sins of the world. Hence insofar as Jesus is the sin bearer, it is only right that his tormentors should exercise fully their lust for violence. After all, doesn?t every sinner deserve the punishment of pain?isn?t that what hell is all about? Therefore, the one who bears all sin can hardly be punished enough, whether by Jew or Gentile?and Gibson thoroughly involves both in his mayhem. It?s quite clear in Gibson?s vision that pain is only too good for those who do wrong, and therefore violence is most certainly legitimate against one who bears all sins.

Yet Gibson also condemns the carnage. He gives us some respite from horror by flashing back to tender scenes where Jesus preaches love of enemies, mercy for sinners, and compassion for those who suffer. These too-brief moments offer an alternative to the violence in which Gibson wallows. He does not seem to notice the implicit contradiction to his thesis that sin deserves punishment, for if Jesus-as-God proclaims mercy and love, why does Jesus? God also demand punishment and pain? Over the centuries there have been ingenious theological arguments attempting to resolve the contradiction, but Gibson seems neither to notice the contradiction, nor to attempt its resolution.

There has been much pre-release hype concerning allegations of anti-Semitism in this film because of Gibson?s characterization of Jewish leaders and the Jewish mob. If the Roman empire were still an identifiable group, the hype should extend to anti-Roman Empire rhetoric, since Gibson gives far more coverage to images of vicious Roman malice than he does of Jewish intent. In fact, he portrays the Jewish leaders recoiling in horror as they witness the savagery inflicted by the Gentiles. Like the gospels, Gibson has Jew and Gentile sharing fully in the event of crucifixion, with the Jews handing Jesus over and the Gentiles taking grim pleasure in carrying out the sentence as brutally as possible.

Where Gibson steps egregiously over the biblical line without any basis whatsoever is his singling out of homosexuals as involved specifically in the condemnation of Jesus. In the gospels and in the film, Pilate sends Jesus to Herod. In the film, but certainly not in the gospels, Herod and his courtiers are stereotypically homosexual and/or transvestite. They laugh at the bleeding Jesus, mock him, and send him back to Pilate for condemnation. This gratuitous slam against a single group adds one more level of violence to a film already dripping in blood.

The one official figure in the film whom Gibson seems to exonerate is Pontius Pilate. He is a weak but apparently decent man who attempts to restrain the mob, but fails. Pilate even devises the expedient of offering to release a man he describes as a vicious murderer?for surely they will prefer Jesus, in whom he finds no fault, to such a man! But his stratagem fails, and so he washes his hands, declaring himself innocent of Jesus? blood. In the wholesale tarring of Jews, the Roman soldiers, and homosexuals, what accounts for this sympathetic treatment of an emblem of white male power? Was he really so innocent, despite his washed hands? Do persons embodying such power find Pilate too close an image of themselves to toss him entirely to the wolves?

Gibson?s film offers interesting comparisons with other Jesus films. While there have been many, perhaps the most outstanding are Cecil B. DeMille?s 1927 King of Kings, Pier Paolo Pasolini?s 1966 The Gospel According to Matthew, Martin Scorsese?s 1988 The Last Temptation of Christ, and Denys Arcand?s 1989 Jesus of Montreal. Gibson is far less biblical than Pasolini, who translates the gospel verbatim to the medium of film. But even in Pasolini we see how the interpretative hand of the director shapes the way we read the message; this is intensified enormously by Gibson?s choice of violence as his major motif. Like DeMille, Gibson gives us a very transcendent Christ, verging on what was called the ancient heresy of docetism, where Christ?s divinity overwhelms his humanity. No mere human being could live through the relentless blows Gibson?s Jesus suffers, nor could a Galilean peasant easily switch from Aramaic to Latin in addressing Pilate. But Gibson?s Jesus does both. Whereas DeMille shows Jesus as an incarnate God through the eyes of a healed child and through teachings of transcendent beauty, Gibson shows us an incarnate God who can endure anything, know anything, and release his life at will. But Gibson?s Jesus is radically different from Arcand?s Jesus of Montreal. For Arcand the crucifixion is accidental, and resurrection is into sharing life; for Gibson, crucifixion is thoroughly central, with but a glimpse of a resurrected and unbloodied Jesus in the last moment of the film.

Perhaps the most interesting comparison is with the Scorsese film because of the enormous cultural passions evoked by both films. While Scorsese?s Jesus was indeed divine, his adaptation of Nikos Kazantzakis? novel portrays Jesus as succumbing to satanic lies while on the cross. Jesus comes down from the cross, lives a normal married life?and then discovers that he has been tricked. With the discovery, time zooms back; he is on the cross again, defeats Satan, and dies according to plan. Religious conservatives who were convinced that Jesus was omniscient and beyond all sexuality were outraged by the film?s image of a mistaken and married Christ, and organized massive boycotts. Ironically, the Gibson film also evokes outrage, but this time by liberal Christians who decry Gibson?s depiction of Jews. For both films, the issue does not seem to depend on whether or not one has seen the film, but whether one is for it or against it.

For this reviewer, Gibson?s film has artistic merit, and certainly many of the performances are fine. But Gibson falls theologically short of DeMille, Pasolini, Scorsese, and Arcand: Violence is not the heart of the Christian message. Given the sustained gore, one can?t help but wonder whether Gibson has simply used a religious vehicle to sacralize the American fascination with human brutality. Rendering cruelty as God-ordained gives no excuse to salivate sanctimoniously over its bloody misery.

--Marjorie Hewitt Suchocki

I've not seen it, but I hear the book is better anyway.

I do plan to see it. I am concerned, however, with some of the subtext that Suchocki points out. For instance the portrayal of Herod and his comrades as stereotypically homosexual really bothers me. The absolution of Pilate, and places where the director strays from the Biblical text seem odd to me. I truly believe that church leaders need to take a leadership role in educating congregations as well as communities (writing reviews for local newspapers, facilitating public discussions and workshops, etc.) about this film and the dialogue that should naturally follow it. If the film is approached and responded to properly, its release can be a wonderful opportunity for conversation and education.

When I read the review I assumed Gibson had simply borrowed the campness of the musical Jesus Christ Superstar in whch Herod is portrayed as overtly gay. I never found that portrayal offensive, but it sounds as though Gibson may well have gone a step further.

I doubt I'll bother with the film.

I learned much from Marjorie Suchocki's review. Thank you! So far, I have neither seen this movie nor decided whether to do so. It is my impression from those who have seen it, and from the television interviews of Mel Gibson I have viewed, that the movie as a whole favors a satisfaction doctrine of the atonement in which the sufferings of Jesus fulfill the requirements of God's wrath for our sins. Is this so? I hope not!
Dave

Many thanks to Marjorie Suchocki for a thoughtful and sensitive review of Mel Gibson's film. Other reviews and stills from the movie had virtually convinced me, but now I'm satisfied that it has nothing new to tell us about human violence or about Jesus of Nazareth. Whatever evil it may exacerbate, surely some good will come from the negative reactions to it. It probably won't be a "must see" for me.

Chuck Arterburn

p.s. Jeffrey Hunter's portrayal in the remake of "King of Kings" might be worth adding to the "recommended list."

The Passion reminds us again of an important and unresloved theological problem in Christianity - How do we approach a believable theoy of atonment. We have Anselm's ransom theory and Abelards revelation of God's love theory, neither of which give a satisfactory "explanation" of the statement "Jesus died for our sins". We must reject any theory of an angry God who must be appeased by the death of Jesus, but it is also more than a summoms to imitate Jesus.

The classic theory of Aulen is perhaps the best, but we need to open the discussion again and give some believable interpretation of the statement that "Jesus died for our sins".

Just a thought

Marjorie- Thank-you for this review. It is the first one that I have read that contains any real theological depth. I saw the film and left feeling angry...angry at Gibson's portrayal and angry that so many filmgoers were flocking to a movie that reinforces a theory of atonement that I find appalling. After leaving seminary and entering the "real world" of congregational life, I have grown discouraged that satisfaction and substitutionary theories of atonement still resonate with people on a deep emotional level...so much so that any kind of logical critique of those ideas faces a hostile reception.

http://www.firstthings.com/ftissues/ft0403/opinion/hittingerlev.html seems to sum the film for me



"the best movie ever made about Jesus Christ"

The value of a passion play is its ability to deepen your understanding of what faith is about. By that standard, movies like "The Legend of Bagger Vance" may be more useful expressions of Christian thought than any of the passion plays made as of yet. I am a fan of "Jesus Christ Superstar" precisely because Andrew Lloyd Webber challenged us to look at the death of Jesus Christ through the eyes of Judas. It makes us think and develop our faith. It probably came closer to making us identify with the killers of Christ than a movie like "The Passion" ever will. So many people are so vehement in their defense of this film. It makes me think of the people who attend Memorial Day services honoring the veterans who died in war, but will do absolutely nothing to prevent the next war from happening. They can say that they are for Christ, but their actions are for Caiaphas.

I think there are some other possibilities here. One is the clue spoken from the barely functional mouth of the beaten Christ to Pilate: "You would have no power over me, except it were given to you from above. Therefore he hath the greater sin."

The notion of desperately evil powers that be in this world is not so far-fetched, and the notion that Christ took upon himself their wrath so that he could protect all of us from them is not so far fetched. Therefore, the notion that the more of their wrath he took upon himself, the more complete the salvation is not so far-fetched, either.

To display to the hilt the wickedness and decadence of the evil powers that be in this world is not so strange a thing to try to do. Where the dispute may come is in identifying the character of those evil powers that be. The right wing will try to demonize the left wing, and the left wing will try to demonize the right wing. Perhaps the truth is that there really is a fallen angel named Lucifer who is behind all the mischief and the division into right wing and left wing in the first place. Is it not the old divide and conquer tactic?

Being a bit of a leftist myself, I must admit that I see the demiurge of capitalism as the embodiment of evil and the devil in this world. But I also see that liberals and leftists are capable of the same sorts of attempts to subdue and marginalize the truth. I tend to think that what we have in this country at least with the right wing and the left wing is essentially the difference between the Pharisees and the Sadducees, the hypocrites and the disbelievers. It is hard to say which is worse sometimes.

There are other considerations. For instance, it is possible that Jesus really needed to go through that experience to get completely free from the body and earn the next initiation that would grant him complete transcendence of bodily existence. If so, it is plausible that the experience had to be especially gruesome and complete in its painful aspect, so that it could open the door to the infinite glory of God beyond all bodily existence. It is also possible that Jesus needed to go through that experience to fulfill his absolute goal of becoming God and the savior of the world. He himself had to cross the great gulf between man and God that is so intimidating to all of us. Even if he himself was already Divine and did not himself need to bridge that gorge, he had to do it for all of us, so that the way would be open for us. Moreover, he sought complete and absolute power or omnipotence - it is quite natural that he would have to go through a humiliating experience of absolute impotence and torture to break through to the realm beyond all pain and power beyond all imagining.

I have heard many emotional responses about The Passion, but I appreciate Marjorie Hewitt Suchocki's clear review of this movie. Now that it is out on DVD, I have heard more people singing its praises. Unfortunately, they assume this movie is accurately depicting the Gospels. I will use Suchocki's review to inform others of the critical eye needed to separate an honest exegetical story from a Hollywood spin.