Dear Dhruva,

After some deliberation, I’ve decided not to publish your review of The Passion of the Christ. Bear in mind that this has little to do with the content; in fact, I thought the piece was very well-written on the whole. I liked that you looked at the movie as a work of art first and a religious tract second––something that many pundits (both left and right, atheist and devout) have forgotten.

It’s key when talking about a movie to consider the ways in which it uses the medium, as this ultimately reflects and colors any of its ideological implications. What impressed me most about your review was its willingness to call a spade a spade and recognize the Hollywood context that produced this film: likening Mel Gibson’s use of violence to a histrionic Scorsese, noting the similarities between the movie’s slow-mo effects and music to Black Hawk Down, and so forth.

My trepidation about running yet another column about this movie stems from the following: My inclination as an editor is to promote a sense of equality, give space to events (or viewpoints) that haven’t received much attention in the culture. Conversely, I am hesitant to perpetuate the popularity of a film that has already occupied so much space in the public eye, more or less thrust itself onto a public that has had no choice but to acknowledge it.

The Passion of the Christ has received more free advertising via bald-faced controversy than most films with little to ride on apart from artistic merit pay for. Thus, regarding the film outside its commercial context feels akin to an act of denial. If one particular section of your column bothered me, to be honest, it was the introduction, which simply summarized the film’s controversy without commenting on it; this device felt less like criticism and more like another advertisement.

To buy the popular argument (both pro and con) that The Passion is worthier of our attention than, say, Broken Lizard’s Club Dread because it sincerely addresses the subject of religion and engages us with potentially controversial viewpoints is to be seduced by hype, not cinematic art.

What I find especially offensive is that this argument suggests that The Passion is somehow “more” than a movie––a position that functions, alternately, as the greatest praise you could bestow on any film and an insult to any other films that is not about the crucifixion.

Also, the suggestion that Mel Gibson is breaking new ground with his devotion and controversial viewpoints (a token nod to innovation that, again, smacks of sloganeering) cheapens the importance of other recent spiritual films whose only deficiency would be the absence of a Hollywood star in their credits. Some readily-available titles that come to mind: Andrei Tarkovsky’s Christian allegory The Sacrifice (whose pre-modern attitude toward women remains controversial); Bernardo Bertolucci’s Little Buddha (which could be debated for its sincere, if somewhat simplified interpretation of Buddhism); and Chris Marker’s magnum opus Sans Soleil, which attempts to reconcile the history of guerrilla warfare in Guinea with the philosophy of non-being espoused by Japanese death rituals.

That audiences seem so eager to see a film purporting to offer a serious interpretation of scripture tells us more about the culture we live in than about Gibson. His outspoken sincerity about the project tells us very little: Indeed, how many directors don’t stand behind their convictions and aim to tell stories in their own way? The fact that Gibson financed this film largely on his own merely tells us that he is rich.

When I attended a revival screening of Sans Soleil at the Oak Street Cinema two weeks ago, I was moved to find that it had attracted a fairly large crowd for a 9:45 p.m. show on Oscar Sunday. One of the crown jewels of cinema, Sans Soleil is nevertheless a challenging film, a work so visually and philosophically loaded that one needs at least a few viewings to wrap one’s head around it. Yet Chris Marker’s respect for the audience shines through at every moment. His interpretation of religion and politics alike encourages audience members to question their faith––and to draw their own conclusions.

Despite the fact that much of the audience with whom I watched the film seemed to watch it in awe, Sans Soleil is not an easy movie to market. On the other hand, recent box-office reports predict that The Passion of the Christ may be the highest-grossing movie with which Mel Gibson has ever been associated.

I’d like to think that the movie’s popular success will prove, writ large, what I observed two Sundays ago at the Oak Street Cinema: that audiences have discovered a breakthrough in responsible spiritual filmmaking and they have chosen to cherish it. Should Gibson be riding the coattails of controversy and big-media hype, however, then it is our responsibility as journalists to ignore this film, if not condemn it altogether.

Hugs and kisses,

Ben

Dear Ben,

The content of The Passion of the Christ has caused more than its share of controversy in the mainstream media, but I believe it would be irresponsible for film critics to completely ignore a film with its cultural magnitude.

As much of the art of filmmaking is determined by its content as to facets of its style, and that should not be ignored. Moreover, whether or not it is desirable, filmmaking is also a business, one that feeds off media hype. Perhaps no other large-scale business is affected so much by this hype. Film critics shoulder the enormous responsibility of not abusing their positions.

However, the controversial content of this film makes it virtually impossible to critique it without advocating a position. Whether a film critic praises Gibson’s work as a masterpiece or decries it as anti-Semitic propaganda, he is still advocating his own opinion of it. It is more difficult to completely ignore its religious content while concentrating on its artistic merits. The lack of a discussion would only be construed as a veiled hatred of all that it stands for.

However, the biggest moral quandary the movie has presented us with is who exactly is in a position to write about it responsibly? The debate surrounding The Passion has overflowed into non-film circles. Social commentators, religious activists and historians, who are otherwise not involved with cinema at all, are using this movie to expound their own positions. The movie continues to feed off this hype and rakes in more dough at the box office. The movie and its critics, in fact, enjoy a symbiotic relationship.

There has always been a demand for serious religious movies. The 1950s and 1960s saw a spate of big-budget films with unabashed religious themes. For whatever reason, whether they were more responsible (read politically-correct) or more subtle in their depictions of religious motifs, they never put the media in such a dilemma. An atheistic critic could easily have torn apart Ben-Hur, for example, without worrying about facing retaliatory criticism from conservative Christian groups.

At a more specific level, it is important for The Mac Weekly to openly discuss it. The paper’s readership is limited to the Macalester community, and therefore its influence is less potent. By reviewing it, The Mac Weekly would barely be adding to the enormous hype. As a small-scall independent publication, we may have more freedom than most to criticize or praise such a movie, and we would be irresponsible for not doing so, especially regarding our intended audience.

While Macalester students may not always be religiously active, interest regarding religious issues is immense. Furthermore, because of its screening at the Grandview, it is a film that more Macalester students are likely to be seeing.

The bottom line is that I feel that The Passion is neither responsible in its content and that its spirituality is questionable at best. It is not a very good movie. At the same time, it is my responsibility as a critic to respond to it. For by ignoring it, I am making a stronger statement, and not necessarily the one I intend.

Talk to you soon,

Dhruva