It is also about as anti-Semitic as the Gospel of John, which is to say, it is anti-Semitic in that way that only the very ur-text of anti-Semitism can be. Every despicable trope of classic Jew-hatred is here, including a sensitive Pontius Pilate who "washes his hands" of the crucifixion after being egged on by the Jewish mob; a Christ who tells the Roman procurator that he has only that power that "comes from above" and that those who delivered him to the Romans have "the greater sin"; and yes, contrary to what some reviewers have written, there is even the line delivered by the high priest Caiaphas where he says that Jesus's blood will be "on our heads and the heads of all our children." Peculiarly or not, this line is simply not given a subtitle, though those who are familiar with the sequence of the story will be able to tell when it occurs even if they don't speak Arimaic.
Historically, we know that this is all bunk. We know, for example, that Pilate was a notoriously cruel governor even by Roman standards, who would never have recoiled from executing anyone if he felt it necessary. We know that there would have been no crowds following and jeering the condemned, no matter how much he was despised by the people -- crucifixion really is arguably the most hideous form of execution ever devised, and it was a tool that the Romans used to intimidate subject peoples. Places of crucifixion were places of dread, and no Jew or other subject person would have cheered on the Romans in public like that.
We know, in fact, that the author of the Gospel of John was a person of some classic Greek education (Platonic and Aristotelian philosophy in particular) whose book is both an embellished "history" and a political/theological polemic against Jews. The Romans were a religiously tolerant people by ancient standards, and they granted Jews a special dispensation from observing Roman rituals, since it was well-known since time immemorial that the Jews were uniquely monotheistic. "John's" polemic is an argument that this dispensation should be revoked from the Jews and given to the Christians as the real continuation of Jewish tradition -- and to make his argument, the author came up with the story of a Jesus who was deferential to Roman authority (divinely-granted authority, he even tells Pilate) but condemned because of the fanaticism of the Jews. "John" in particular stands as refutation of the notion that early Christians were somehow "revolutionary" and subversive of Roman order; whoever wrote "John" was in fact trying to ingratiate himself and curry favor with Roman authority at the expense of Jews. To be fair, this pseudonymous second-century author could not have known that he was writing the most enduring and pernicious "libel on a whole people" ever devised.
However, all of this strikes me as beside the point, since Gibson clearly set out to make not a historically accurate movie but one based on the fictional account found in the Gospels and in Church tradition. In this he has succeeded fairly well, producing a dramatization of well-known fairy-tale at least as good as Lord of the Rings. Certainly there have been plenty of instances throughout history of people with awful reactionary politics who have produced great art based on myths and legend, including myths and legend with morally questionable themes (think Wagnerian opera). Not that "The Passion of the Christ" qualifies as great art, but it is at least "pretty good."
It's especially intriguing that fundamentalist Protestants are attracted to this movie, since it is Catholic through-and-through, though in exactly the pre-Vatican II sort of way that we would expect from reading about Gibson's own belief system. Protestants have no tradition of Passion Plays or of the Stations of the Cross ("Jesus is whipped," "Jesus falls," "Simon helps Jesus," "Jesus falls again," "Veronica helps Jesus" [a story which is not in the Bible], and so on), which is why they're unlikely to fully grasp the many-textured and rigorously Catholic worldview of the film, for Gibson's Catholicism is at most one step removed from the religion's pagan influences and roots. In classic Catholic fashion, it is the figure of the Blessed Mother who emerges as the most compelling character in the movie, even moreso than Christ himself (Himself? -- no, I'm not going to give you that), a touching universalist tribute to mothers everywhere who are made to bear the suffering of their children.
And on top of that, there's the ever-present immanence of the spirit world, particularly the denizens of hell, who Gibson places in this world with all the terrifying, literal presence that can be found in the darkest medieval superstition: the flesh-eating satanic children who torment Judas Iscariot; disgusting creatures including maggots, snakes, flies, and dead carcasses seemingly ready to rise up and overwhelm the world; the carrion-fed crow that pecks out the eye of the unrepentant thief at Golgotha. Occasionally this gets a little ridiculous, particularly at one point where the hairless, pale, androgynous Lucifer grips a pallid, loathsome infant to its breast in mockery of Madonna-and-child imagery -- or perhaps this would have been a more disturbing scene, if I had been able to help myself from asking, "Hey, isn't that Dr. Evil and Mini-Me?" And the final scene where -- I hope I'm not spoiling the surprise for you -- Christ rises from the dead is just a little too reminiscent of Hollywood schlock where the supposedly dead are not really dead, to the point that you wonder, "Hey, when's the sequel?"
All in all, though, dramatizations of beloved epics seem to be in these days, and this is a pretty good one.
- - - - - John Lacny
People of the US, unite and defeat the Bush regime and all its running dogs!