Christianity teaches that Jesus was human, yet the son of God. Being simultaneously both is one of the religion's many vaguenesses, and the matter of this unrelentingly personal vision, neither based on the Gospels nor against them. Though not born with the mark of sin, to be human, Jesus would've had to be victim to temptation, having free will. As the son of God, he'd naturally have instigated the most serious deceit of Satan. And if you think Christ's efforts are invalidated by the titular sequence, wouldn't it take a man that long to understand what God understands? <more> I'm not religious, but here's a film that fully engages me on the figure of Christ. His mission is as abstract to him as to us, only learning bit by bit how he must transform and eventually sacrifice himself. He's acting on the emotions and psychology of a person, baffled, disturbed. He confesses early on that he's not the son of Mary and Joseph but of God, so he thinks this is Satan talking, and believes he's the most terrible sinner. Somehow, this Jesus makes sense, a Jesus with a grave dilemma. It seems more reverent to his divinity to show how tempting human life is. How tempting free will is, rather than the responsibility of being Messiah.The film opens with enough audacity for a whole movie in the eyes of most religious zealots. It presents Judas as morally superior to Jesus, who is collaborating with Roman oppressors. Judas then surveys the entire inhuman process in which Jesus plays a direct part. I think Jesus' hand in this tortuous act is meant to be some displaced attempt to fulfill his ultimate act of carrying his own cross. Many of our wrongdoings as people tend to be mistaken efforts to fulfill what we believe we're supposed to do, aren't they? Or to escape responsibility.What are the odds of a human being obediently assuming the responsibility to die horribly? Didn't Jesus-the-guy theoretically have a right not to becomes Jesus-the-god if he didn't want to pay such a horrific price and define his whole life by it? He's passionately chastised by Judas, as well as Mary, between johns. This gives so much more genuine-feeling poignancy to his later defiance for anyone to continue stoning her if anyone can say they've never sinned than whenever they told me in school. He says it with authentic humility, knowing those ugly insides of being human all too well to be commanding them in belief that he's the son of the universe. It's even more poignant, and powerfully timeless, when this first attempt at a message of love is taken by the angry hoard as a message of death.Another sensitive consideration is the earnest expression by Christ's peers of qualms, even jealousy in his being ostensibly Chosen. Even beyond Judas and Mary's righteous indignation, one fellow tells Jesus that every day he yearns to hear God's voice, has dedicated his life to God's affirmation of his soul, and we can see that it hurts and confuses him that Jesus, who's collaborated with the Romans, who frequents the presence of a prostitute, is the one God chose. This is a spiritual conflict that shoots straight into the heart of the burning questions all people have about God: How many people have questioned their faith and often lost it owing to an overpowering sense that their best efforts at being good are going unreciprocated, unnoticed, or disdained by an onslaught of tragic experiences, while people of little moral compass, wisdom or human contribution reap unprecedented benefits, without reciprocating the good fortune as you would. What a bold, refreshing approach to put pressure on Christ as a protagonist, to show him as one of us, striving to be good despite the high personal cost of his ultimate accomplishment. Even bolder to hear him say that he'd give in to any and all temptations, vices, crimes and rebellions, that the only reason he doesn't is because he's afraid. Do religious people worship and abide by the dogmas because of altruistic impulses, or because they're afraid?Sometimes thinking too much about the use of modern everyday American dialect in 30 AD, it seems to lose credibility. But Schrader is neither too erudite nor crude. He and Scorsese subtly tread the fine line of having what's said be entirely of the period and tradition while giving them the most straightforward way to say it. Verna Bloom, strongly moving in her few scenes, gives us a Mother Mary who, emotionally, sacrificed in equal measure with her son. Still, there are times when the "we commend thee to our God" content of the dialogue being given a Flatbush or Lower East Side texture seems more along Julie Taymor lines than Visconti, Welles or Rossellini. What's even more powerful is Jesus' low-pitched inner-voice narration, powerfully reminiscent of the quiet, intimate commentary of Terrence Malick's main characters.There's more than one way to consider the Christ story. Otherwise, why would there be more than one Gospel? As well as one of Scorsese's labors of love, this is also as abstract as Kundun, perhaps more disjointed as well: The images of Satan as fire and snake, the ambiguous reality of the eponymous temptation, import twice the abstruseness of Taxi Driver's final scene or Cape Fear's red skies. Such is religious lore. Many gaps, many questions, but nonetheless infinite passion. Religious viewers will understand. For those of us without religious beliefs, this film is prone to arouse more significant contemplation on the character of Jesus than any other ever made. <less> |