Five years have passed since the release of Mel Gibson’s extraordinary film “The Passion of the Christ,” a self-financed work that would eventually stun the industry, bringing in more than $600 million worldwide. There were gales of protest about the film, religious leaders spoke out, some for it , some actually against it, and audiences members wept, or walked out, depending on the person. I can’t remember a film causing this sort of reaction from so many people. Gibson divided audience right down the middle.
The actor/director chose not to make a film about Jesus’s life but rather his death, exploring in great detail the horrors inflicted on the poor man as he walked toward a hill where he would be nailed to a cross and left to die a most horrible death. The chain of events is called “the stations of the cross” in religious teaching, but Gibson laid it out in near matter-of-fact fashion. His faith was apparent but it wasn’t a propagandist’s work in the slightest.
In essence, Gibson made a film about a man who was driven. He could have stopped but he pushed through this awful denouement to his life. I suppose that, more than anything else, moved me. The fact that no matter what happened to his body, whether it be scourging his flesh or beating him about the head and face, he just kept going, knowing his purpose, knowing his destiny. In that way, the film could be seen less as a portrait of a religious figure than a tale about everyday passion, the will to continue, eyes on the prize, etc. Who can’t relate to that in some way, however comparably small?
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