TITLE: Temptation/Passion of (the) Christ(s)
AUTHOR: Joe Johnson
DATE: 1:04:00 PM
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The following article is written in response to an email I received. On the Martin Scorsese episode of Watching The Directors (podcast), I commented on how I thought The Last Temptation of Christ depicted the crucifixion, the desert temptation and the raising of Lazarus better than any other film. The email asked me to explain my comments, especially in consideration and comparison with Gibson's The Passion of the Christ.
It's nearly impossible for me to think of The Passion of the Christ without considering The Last Temptation of Christ. Both were preceded by enormous controversy, both were impressive compositions by talented directors and both were devotional works. I'd go so far as to argue that if you watch either film as a movie, you will be disappointed. Scorsese and Gibson, both Catholics, were attempting to personally explore the humanity of Jesus in ways that traditional films had not (with the possible exception of Pasolini's Il Vangelo Secondo Matteo). In the process, they omitted numerous biblical elements, exaggerated others, and concentrated on those issues most significant to them. In Scorsese, this comes across as a creating a confused, isolated Jesus. In Gibson, this is a heroic Jesus who's essence is most revealed through physical torment.
Albert Schweitzer once commented that writing a biography about Jesus generally reveals more of the author than the subject. I think this is true of both directors.
My noted preferences for Scorsese's film is not in it's adherence to Scripture. It makes little attempt to due so, noting that it is a pondering - a devotional retelling of Kazantszakis's heretical novel. (Gibson also mixed his Gospel sources with the mystic Anne Catherine Emmerich's Dolores Passion and a number of Catholic traditions.) Instead, Scorsese gave greater context to his Jesus. And with that, he displayed more scenes from the Gospels than did Gibson. When I commented on the temptation and crucifixion in Scorsese's vision (as the best depictions on film), I meant that they were visually and atmospherically more satisfying than any I had ever witnessed. They also were preceded by greater context, character development and narrative development.
The desert temptation is utterly isolating, and the visual tool of having Jesus draw a circle around himself is stunning. Likewise, the starkness and basic brutality of the crucifixion deconstructed the majesty of earlier films and countered the excessiveness of Gibson's. The way that Scorsese's camera follows the lifting of the cross is one of the greatest movements in all film, period. But ultimately, the most remarkable scene in the movie (from the perspective of really capturing a biblical moment) is the resurrection of Lazarus. Watch Jesus' own fear of death, the darkness of the tomb, the shock of movement in the dark. It's absolutely disarming and unmatched.
Gibson formed his style after the great Renaissance painter Caravaggio - and it shows. Everything is perfectly painted, with deep, organic earth tones. Scorsese's vision is more inclined to a dry, poor Moroccan desert. As such, a preference for one artistic style over the other may change a viewer's affection for the depiction of parallel scenes. Again, with the possible exception of Pasolini's vision, no director has portrayed Jesus more personally than Gibson and Scorsese. But there is something so fresh and dangerous to Scorsese's vision - a visual and narrative vibrancy - that challenges the embedded Renaissance portraits that many of us carry. Gibson's style reinforces these images.
Ironically, both directors use familiarity to deconstruct and re-imagine Jesus. Gibson begins with the solidity of centuries of Catholic and Renaissance tradition and incorporates his own fixation with brutality and penance. Scorsese takes the film-Jesus – the new American icon of long hair, blue eyes, white skin - and violates so many of our safe, Sunday School concepts. Scorsese's re-invention was much more evident as it favored a liberal, heretical line of questioning. Gibson's was less obvious as many Evangelicals ignored the brutality, narrative minimalism and Catholicity of the film in favor of an evangelism tool.
Although Scorsese turns Jesus into a romantic, Gibson romanticizes Jesus' suffering. He exaggerates the toll any human body could carry, just as Scorsese weakens his Jesus. These are two highly important, but antithetical portraits. They deserve to be seen together and understood for what each of them is: not an illustration of Scripture, but two filmmaker's devotional portraits of highly personal questions about who Jesus was and is.
Labels: commentary, theology
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The desert temptation is utterly isolating, and the visual tool of having Jesus draw a circle around himself is stunning. Likewise, the starkness and basic brutality of the crucifixion deconstructed the majesty of earlier films and countered the excessiveness of Gibson's. The way that Scorsese's camera follows the lifting of the cross is one of the greatest movements in all film, period. But ultimately, the most remarkable scene in the movie (from the perspective of really capturing a biblical moment) is the resurrection of Lazarus. Watch Jesus' own fear of death, the darkness of the tomb, the shock of movement in the dark. It's absolutely disarming and unmatched.
Ironically, both directors use familiarity to deconstruct and re-imagine Jesus. Gibson begins with the solidity of centuries of Catholic and Renaissance tradition and incorporates his own fixation with brutality and penance. Scorsese takes the film-Jesus – the new American icon of long hair, blue eyes, white skin - and violates so many of our safe, Sunday School concepts. Scorsese's re-invention was much more evident as it favored a liberal, heretical line of questioning. Gibson's was less obvious as many Evangelicals ignored the brutality, narrative minimalism and Catholicity of the film in favor of an evangelism tool.