With the release on Ash Wednesday of "The Passion of the Christ" in theaters nationwide, The Tidings this week presents the critical views and analyses from several perspectives: Catholic and Jewish laypeople, both with backgrounds in the film industry; a woman religious who has worked in the media for many years; and a consensus review of U.S. Bishops' Office of Film and Broadcasting staff, compiled with the assistance of theological and interfaith experts. These reviews, and the accompanying articles on additional resources and parental suggestions, are designed to help readers discern their reasons for seeing or not seeing the film.

A Catholic view: 'A greater understanding might yet emerge'
By Ron Austin
A more relentless, horrific meditation on the torture, scourging and humiliation of Jesus than Mel Gibson's "The Passion of the Christ" Christ" would be hard to imagine.

The dialogue --- in Aramaic, Hebrew and Latin --- gives the film a feeling of historical verisimilitude and, at the same time, an other-worldliness. Gibson's skillful direction fully realizes his quite personal vision of these events, and the actors, particularly Jim Caviezel as Jesus and Maia Morgenstern as Mary, offer sensitive, iconic performances. The other formal elements --- the cinematography, editing, music --- are all powerfully effective.

But while well-crafted cinematically, the film's aesthetic will not appeal to everyone, even those who may be sympathetic to the filmmaker's devotional aims. Gibson's artistic choices are clearly rooted in the emotionally-charged style of contemporary Hollywood that wants to overwhelm viewers with powerful imagery, extraordinary special effects and, the real stuff of today's blockbuster movies, graphic violence.

Gibson's use of these now-familiar elements may be his most remarkable accomplishment. He has shaped a form of devotional art out of the pound-and-shock ingredients of pop culture --- the world of horror films, martial epics and science fiction. All this, one suspects, is quite intentional: Gibson has fashioned a "Passion" story, too-often rendered banal by familiarity, into an emotional two-by-four by which he intends to get our attention.

The screenplay by Gibson and Benedict Fitzgerald focuses on a singular aspect of Christ's Passion: his last 12 hours of cruel torture and even crueler death. What is the purpose of this highly-focused interpretation? Why does the film compel us to witness such relentless physical suffering rather than focus on other, equally important aspects of the Passion, or, more broadly, on Jesus' life and teachings?

The primary answer lies in recognizing that Gibson's film operates in an established, if minority tradition in Catholic devotional art. Prominent in northern Europe in the late Middle Ages, and in much Hispanic religious folk art to this day, this tradition emphasizes the awful reality of the physical sufferings of Christ by depicting him, not in the majesty of the resurrection, but covered in wounds and gore. One has only to think of Matthias Grunewald's famous "Isenheim Altarpiece." The intention of this art is in some ways comparable to Jesuit founder St. Ignatius' Spiritual Exercises in that it is an effort to draw the viewer into the suffering so as to indelibly interiorize it. It is not gore for the sake of gore, but the instrument of a purgation that allows us to come face to face with our own sinful disfigurement.

"The Passion of the Christ" uses shock as a means to inspire remorse, repentance and forgiveness. "Look what I have done," we are meant to say to ourselves. "My sins have caused this pain. How can I go on living the way I am?" Again, there are other, perhaps more balanced approaches to the mystery of Christ's suffering, but Gibson's approach clearly stands in a certain tradition of popular devotion, and must be judged to have succeeded or failed on its own terms.

It should be noted that there is a strong Marian component here, which for many, I imagine, will be the film's most redemptive feature. Mary, accompanying her Son on His journey of suffering and death, is a knowing presence at the very heart of the Passion, and, we are meant to understand, is helpless only in human terms.

It is understandable that much of this will not appeal to those who are not Christians, and who may not accept the Christian premise of universal guilt. Others, including Christians, will reject the violent aesthetic. Still others may, in responding to Christ's suffering, attempt to evade, as so many of our Christian forebears did, the crucial point of the story --- the culpability of all in the death of Christ --- by seeking scapegoats.

In all fairness, I think Gibson has attempted to depict the responsibility for Christ's suffering and death as a guilt universally shared, as the do Gospels themselves. The Jewish mob shouts for crucifixion and the Roman soldiers are monstrously cruel. Both Caiaphas and Pontius Pilate are corrupt, self-serving and lawless. Differing interpretations of aspects of the film are inevitable, and, undoubtedly, some will find offense where others don't. It is, nonetheless, clear that Gibson made an effort, which some may find inadequate, to avoid the scapegoating of which he's been accused in the media. Most particularly, Simon of Cyrene's compassionate defense of Jesus is greeted by the anti-Semitic slurs of Roman soldiers --- all clearly intentional, and meant to counter possible anti-Jewish misinterpretations.

However painful and divisive the immediate response to the film has been, if there is reasonable goodwill, a greater understanding might yet emerge from the controversy. The guidelines of the church regarding depictions of the Passion couldn't be clearer: "Any presentations that explicitly or implicitly seek to shift responsibility from human sin onto this or that historical group, such as the Jews, can only be said to obscure a core Gospel truth."

I saw the film in the company of three thoughtful leaders of the Jewish community in Los Angeles, and, while none of them found the film to be anti-Semitic, they expressed concerns about its possible misuses. This fear of the hatred, or even violence, that misguided reactions to the film might incite is abundantly legitimized by history, and increased by the alarming rise of anti-Semitism in Europe and elsewhere.

In the context of our times, therefore, the repentance that "The Passion of the Christ" seeks to elicit and an understanding of the fears expressed by many in the Jewish community about the film's possible unintended effects are, finally, not separate matters. The sober truth that calls for repentance within Gibson's film demands a sober response that goes far beyond our reactions as moviegoers. We must not fail to use the opportunity "The Passion of the Christ" has providentially given, whatever one thinks of the film, to proclaim our love of Christ, who died for us, and to demonstrate that love by cherishing and defending our neighbors.

Ron Austin is a veteran writer and producer, a member of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, and a founding member of Catholics in Media.

A Jewish view: 'Unlikely to inspire personal repentance'
By David Klinghoffer
Before saying what is wrong and what is right with Mel Gibson's "The Passion of the Christ," let's get out of the way the question that is on everyone's mind. Now that the film has opened, it will become clear to regular viewers who have heard of the controversy, furiously fanned by those enterprising fundraisers at the ADL, that no, the film is not anti-Semitic.

It does not show Jews per se in a uniquely nasty light. Depicting the final 12 hours of Jesus' life, it portrays all humanity, except for the few earnest followers of Jesus, in an exceptionally ugly fashion. The Roman soldiers who mercilessly, endlessly scourge Jesus with clawed whips, laughing and wiping drool from their mouths the whole time, are no less disgustingly portrayed than the proud, callous, foolish Jewish priests who demand that the Roman governor take the torture to the next level: crucifixion.

When Gibson has the crucified Jesus cast an eye up to Heaven, the director orients the camera so the big round chocolate brown eye is looking straight at us all in the audience, accusing humanity. Moments later, when Jesus is taken down from the cross, his mother cradles him in her arms and herself looks directly at us in the audience, again casting the accusing eye.

But the fact that "The Passion" isn't anti-Semitic doesn't make it an effective piece of filmmaking. The bad news is that Gibson's motion picture manages to be sadistically violent and somewhat boring at the time.

It would be hard to know, just from the portrayal in this film, what it was that made Jesus a personality so special as to inspire one of the world's great religions. The fact that he died in agony? That's it?

In a quick flashback to the Sermon on the Mount, he is shown endorsing love of one's enemy, and in a flashback to the Last Supper, he commands his followers to love each other. That exhausts Gibson's depiction of Jesus as teacher of timeless spiritual truths.

The whole rest of the movie is taken up with depicting Jesus' grotesque and minutely shown final agonies. When in the course of the very long scourging scene, a claw on one of the whips wielded by his Roman tormentors gets stuck in his bloodied flesh and has to pulled out, I thought: OK, enough. But that was only about halfway through the movie.

It is very hard to see how anyone is going to be uplifted by this. Frankly I'm a little worried about a non-anti-Semitic lunatic getting it into his head to bludgeon some innocent person of any or no religion like Gibson's Romans do to Jesus. This alone isn't a reason not to have made his movie. Who could have predicted that "Taxi Driver" would inspire John Hinckley to try to assassinate Ronald Reagan?

But Gibson ought to have known that there's a good reason why sensitive people avoid violent films. Watching this stuff, however noble or spiritual or religious the filmmaker's intentions, coarsens the soul.

Specifically, contrary to Gibson's intent, "The Passion" seems unlikely to inspire personal repentance. For all the realism of the violence, the rest of the film is highly unrealistic, in such a way that no one who sees it --- unless he's a psycho killer --- is going to recognize himself in Gibson's narrative and feel moved to control himself and stop hurting other people.

The cruelties in our lives, the hurts we inflict, the acts of unfaithfulness to others and to God, are many, but they are simply of a different character than nailing a man's hands to a cross.

As for the part the Jewish priestly establishments plays, arresting Jesus and turning him over to the Romans, their villainy is unrecognizable because it makes no sense. We're supposed to believe the Temple priests are after Jesus because he's got some big dangerous following that's going to crown him Messiah, but nowhere do these massively numbered followers ever make an appearance. From all the evidence of "The Passion," Jesus had about ten disciples, 20 max. So why were certain Jews, in the New Testament's telling, so intent on seeing him dead? Gibson has no idea.

I mentioned that there is something right about "The Passion." In at least trying to make a film that depicts his own faith not as a golden dream fantasy but as a reality --- an event that actually happened in history, complete with dialogue in the ancient language Jesus really spoke (Aramaic) --- Gibson has done something daring, even heroic. The juxtaposition of the Aramaic dialogue in particular, beautifully achieved, with the Caravaggio-esque spooky atmosphere of certain scenes is genuinely thrilling. There is art here, and that fact will move other artists. The importance of Gibson's movie lies in the new wave of religiously and even Biblically inspired films it will help launch.

He has shown other filmmakers it can be done, and not even the ADL can stop you. This is going to be interesting.

David Klinghoffer is a columnist for the Forward and author of the forthcoming "Why the Jews Rejected Christ: In Search of the Turning Point in Western History" (Doubleday).