Much has been said about The Passion of the Christ, probably more than about any other film in recent history. Interestingly enough, the film has been largely polarizing and the commotion reflects that. One side, which seems generally conservative, has praised the film for any number of reasons, particularly on a religious level. The other side, seemingly liberal for the most part, has disparaged the film for its recurrent violence and a few with claims of anti-Semitism.

What particularly interests me, however, is the LDS reaction. Orson Scott Card called it “a work of art that stands with the best ever created in the medium of film”. LDS film critic Eric D. Snider gave it a rare “A”, Keith Merrill, director of Legacy and Testaments, called it “a brilliantly-crafted piece of art” and former BYU religion department chair Robert Millet said it was “important”.

On the other end of the spectrum, LDS film and theater professors Robert A. Rees and Eric Samuelsen both had largely negative things to say about The Passion of the Christ, both of which were published in the March 2004 Sunstone. Finding myself siding with the former group, I’m interested in responding to some of the comments of Rees and Samuelsen, particularly because I believe their concerns do reflect those of portion of the LDS community.

One major complaint both Rees and Samuelson had is that the theology of the film didn’t accurately reflect that of the LDS perspective. This is silly. First of all, what religious films not made by the church have accurately portrayed events in accordance with LDS beliefs? Was Mel Gibson supposed to consult Talmage’s Jesus the Christ before making his film? Furthermore, I don’t think differing, minor theological or historical details will automatically sever any kind of spiritual connection we can have with a work of art that is true in spirit.

More significantly, I don’t think The Passion conflicts with LDS doctrine much at all. One issue that both Rees and Samuelsen raise has to do with the fact that LDS doctrine holds that the majority of the Atonement took place through mental anguish in the Garden of Gethsemane, and that The Passion of the Christ failed to reflect that.

A few comments here. First, how many of the hundreds of Christ themed films that have been made throughout the last hundred years have depicted the Atonement in accordance with LDS doctrine? As I recall, even the church-made film The Lamb of God spent more time on the cross than it did in Gethsemane. I’m curious as to what supporters of this complaint would have liked to see. Did they want to see Christ praying and suffering, bleeding from every pore, for a full half hour (or hour) at the start of the film? I guarantee you that scene would have brought even more criticism for its presence from the very people who criticized it for its absence. It’s a no win situation. I think Gibson did the right thing.

A further, interesting note along this line. The Passion of the Christ is largely an adaptation of The Dolorous Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ, a transcription of an extended vision by Anne Catherine Emmerich, an Augustinian nun, in 1823. Though Gibson painstakingly depicts events as described in this book, he had to cut a few corners for time – one of which is the suffering in the garden of Gethsemane. In The Dolorous Passion, Emmerich gives an extended account of the mental anguish, for the sake of the sins of all mankind, which Jesus suffered while in the garden. It’s totally credible that, considering the weight to which he gives this vision, that Gibson does believe that the major part of Christ’s suffering and atoning took place in the garden and simply cut it out for the sake of time, narrative, and possibly even respect. In any case, he seemed to be taking notes from The Lamb of God.

Another issue deals with the brief portrayal of the resurrection. Similar things can be said about this issue as a good deal of time was given to the resurrection in The Dolorous Passion. Maybe Gibson is planning on making as squeal titled The Resurrection of the Christ. The point is, perhaps Gibson didn’t include the garden of Gethsemane and the Garden Tomb because he didn’t want to make a four hour epic. We cannot cry of theological differences when it may simply be the case that certain things may have been cut or reduced for artistic and practical purposes.

This leads to some of Samuelsen’s claims that The Passion follows Catholic traditions instead of biblical accounts. This is true to an extent. It is indeed heavily based on Catholic traditions, particularly those brought out in Emmerich’s vision. But very rarely, and then in only very minor ways does The Passion ever contract biblical accounts at all. What it does is simply add to it, just as all narrative historical accounts must do. Sure, it’s founded on Catholic traditions, but who’s to say it wasn’t otherwise? Who’s to say that Christ didn’t fall seven times on the way to Calvary? Who’s to say that Veronica didn’t bring refreshment out to him on that road to the Cross or that Christ didn’t fall over the bridge after his arrest? I don’t think we have any real reason not to believe these accounts and I certainly don’t think we have any reason to be offended by their presence.

Another aspect that Samuelsen mentioned is particularly Catholic and that many other critics felt ran over-the-top was the violence. Though we certainly get enough visually that it becomes difficult to watch at times, it’s as it should be. By all historical accounts, this is the way it was. Robert Rees says, “I felt like Gibson had me by the throat throughout the film, pushing his vision of violence in my face.” If The Passion is an honest attempt to recreate history, how is it Gibson’s vision? And since when is the film community troubled by realism in film’s depiction of the world? This is the first I’ve heard of it.

There are those who want to say that the violence was for exhibition’s sake, or that it was there to grind an axe against those who initiated the brutality; others suggest it’s part of the Catholic tradition to depict Jesus as gruesomely as possible. I can see how any of these interpretations might leave a bad taste in your mouth after witnessing the violence, but I don’t see it that way. I don’t think there’s any reason to believe that Gibson wasn’t simply trying to recreate the experience as closely as possible – to bring us to Golgotha the way Spielberg brought us to the banks of Normandy on D-Day.

I’ve often thought that if I could travel anywhere in history for one day, that fateful Friday would be the day. Gibson gives us that chance, to go back in time in way we’ve never seen it before. In fact, had we really been there that day with Mary, Magdalene and John, we would have witnessed a whole lot more violence than we did. Gibson could have been ten times more graphic if he wanted to. We only see the barbs hit the skin a handful of times during the scourging, for example, while the cameras focus on the suffering of the women, the agony in Christ’s face, or the glee in the face of the executioners. Furthermore, Emmerich describes much more violence and gore than is ever even presented in The Passion – at one point we’re told we can see Jesus’ whole shoulder blade, the skin having been torn off completely.

This leads to another small complaint – that no man could have possibly born that much and survived that long. One critic mentioned that he should have died many times over. He’s exactly right. Emmerich notes, a handful of times throughout the vision, that Christ would have died at a given moment had not angles been around him, supporting him and bearing him life. I don’t think Gibson needed to actually show angels to let us know that Christ was of divine birth. I think it’s a given that this man is miraculous and that he can bear more than a normal man. If you’re going to criticize Jesus’ unfathomable survival, you might as well criticize his healing of Malchus’ ear or his own resurrection.

Other allegations dealing with the film’s violence are more severe – a number of critics have made comments to the effect that the film’s violence undermined its fundamental message of brotherly love. Eric Samuelsen said that “Christ’s teachings of forgiveness and charity seem strangely out of place in the film,” and Entertainment Weekly film critic Lisa Schwarzbaum felt the film was “an incitement to revenge rather than an inspiration to lead a godly life by loving one’s neighbor.”

I couldn’t disagree more with these two statements. Revenge on whom? You’d have a much better argument claiming that Schindler’s List is fuel for hatred towards Germans. It’s not at all, and neither is The Passion. The fact is, The Passion of the Christ may be one of the greatest lessons on forgiveness and charity ever brought to the screen. And Gibson goes out of his way to make this point.

In the brief flashback we get of the Sermon on the Mount, the one thing we hear Christ teach is love for your enemies. In another flashback, just before the crucifixion, we see Christ teaching the apostles saying, “This is my commandment, that ye love one another. As I have loved you, even so ought ye to love one another.” Immediately after this flashback we see Christ being lifted up on the cross and crying, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” Now, I’ve heard some LDS teachings saying that he was speaking of the Roman soldiers and not of the Jewish leaders, but the principle is there. At no point did Jesus ever display anger or hatred towards those who persecuted, tortured and violently murdered him. When Peter lashed out at the soldiers, he healed them – he healed those who would kill him – and reprimanded Peter for responding violently. Gibson makes it perfectly and explicitly clear that anyone who might desire revenge is blatantly violating Christ’s teachings and example.

Another complaint I’ve heard about The Passion involves concerns that a subject so sacred is being dealt with in a commercial way, that people are enjoying some of the most sacred events in history while drinking pop and eating popcorn. Some are further disturbed by the idea that people are enjoying watching the Savior being beat and tortured. The truth is, I don’t know a single person who has responded in that kind of way towards the film. Mature adults don’t go to see The Passion for entertainment’s sake any more than they go to the temple to be entertained. At both of the sessions of The Passion I attended, people may have been munching on treats at the beginning, but by the film’s end the atmosphere was as sober and reverent as any I’ve ever felt – including the temple. The crowd was silent at the film’s finish, and it seemed as if the multitude filed out slowly and solemnly, most waiting to talk until they were out of the theater. The Passion of the Christ may be playing in a location where people seek cheap thrills and passing entertainment, but that doesn’t mean that all films have to be that way. Indeed, it was anything but in this case.

Though most of The Passion’s criticisms are unfounded, I have found myself agreeing with one. It’s merely an aesthetic issue, but one thing I would have appreciated would have been more of a context for understanding the significance of the events. I’ve never been much of a fan of based-on-a-true-story stories because they always seem so simple and straightforward. And though The Passion’s honest straightforwardness is one of its strengths, I would have liked to see more thematic enhancement to what was primary story. I appreciated, for example, the opening scene; a foreshadowing of things to come as Jesus suffers under Satan’s taunting but gets up and crushes the head of the serpent with his heel. In fact, I enjoyed all of the additions of Satan to the screen, which constitutes one of Gibson’s few additions – we don’t get as much of Satan in Emmerich’s text.

I love the cinematography. The picture is a lush blue in Gethsemane and a stark yellow on the road to Calvary. The constantly beautiful picture creates an environment that is always effective in setting the mood of the scene. Jim Caviezel does well enough as Jesus, though it does seem as if he hasn’t much to work with. I appreciated the amount of screen time given to Mary (Maia Morgenstern) and Mary Magdalene (Monica Bellucci). Their presence greatly enhances the reality of the moment and present characters with whom we can actively sympathize. Mary’s anguish brings a level of humanity to the film that balances out the hardness of the Jewish leaders and Roman soldiers.

Eric Samuelsen closes his essay by remarking that “it’s a very strange cultural phenomenon, the way a weirdly obsessive pre-Vatican II Catholic film becomes a touchstone for American Protestants. And Mormons.” I don’t think it’s strange at all. It’s not strange because it’s not a “pre-Vatican II Catholic film”; it’s a Christian film in the broadest sense. Despite its use of traditionally Catholic imagery, The Passion of the Christ is able to connect with all Christian audiences, including the LDS audience, because of its honest, straightforward portrayal of what many people believe is the most significant event in the history of the world.

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