Back in 2004, I debated whether I would be shirking my duty as a
Christian filmgoer if I failed to attend a showing of Mel Gibson's The Passion of the Christ.
While I applauded Gibson's determination to craft a film that conveys
the extent of Christ's sacrifice, I just didn't think I could stomach
watching Jesus take an R-rated beating for three hours, so I passed,
though I observed the furor with interest. While articles weighing in on
the movie flooded the papers, a quieter film slipped in, scarcely
noticed as it stood in the shadow of this long-anticipated epic. What
little I read about Philip Saville's The Gospel of John spoke of
it favorably enough to pique my interest, but if it ever landed at
theaters in Erie, I missed it, and soon I'd forgotten it entirely.
Then, earlier this year, I was visiting the MySpace page of a particularly ardent fan of LOST's Desmond when I saw several stills from The Gospel of John
featuring a strangely familiar-looking Jesus. I crinkled my forehead,
registering the connection, and rushed to imdb to confirm it. Sure
enough, right there on the cast list was Henry Ian Cusick, whose name
wouldn't have made a blip on my radar screen in early 2004. Three years
later, it was enough to compel me to rent the movie.
Christopher Plummer as the narrator sweetened the deal, as did the PG-13 rating, which promised nothing so graphic as what The Passion had to offer. This week, I returned from the video store toting The Gospel of John,
which an employee found for us in the special interest section after
our own search yielded nothing. I popped it into the player with some
trepidation, knowing I would view the movie differently now than if I'd
seen it in the theater. Now I had Desmond clouding my vision, so I
feared for my decorum and hoped that at least Cusick would not sound
Scottish.
Helpfully, he employs a rather generic "Biblically
British" accent, which is distinct enough from his natural speaking
voice that if I'd been listening without the visual, I might not have
made the connection. That's offset by the fact that in most of his
appearances on LOST, Cusick, sporting only slightly less shaggy
hair, looks very much like he does here; given the reluctantly messianic
role the enigmatic hatch inhabitant has played since the season two
finale, I wonder if Damon Lindelof and the gang were hoping some people
would make the connection. That reluctance is all but absent in Cusick's
performance as Christ. Though hesitation briefly flickers across His
features as the crucifixion looms, throughout the bulk of the film
there's a profound serenity about Him as He goes about his work, never
in doubt as to the path He must follow.
Yet this is a very
human Jesus, and there is scarcely a moment on screen when He is not
reaching out a hand to comfort or gazing steadily into the eyes of an
outcast in an expression brimming with both compassion and challenge.
And He smiles, displaying more of his gleaming teeth in three
hours than the generally morose Desmond has in two seasons. He exudes
genuine joy as he proclaims, "I am the bread of life!" and
shoulder-squeezing camaraderie as He selects His startled apostles.
There's even laughter, as when He chuckles at Peter's zealous reversal
from refusing to have his feet washed to requesting that Jesus also
bathe his hands and head. Rage against the hypocrisy of the Pharisees is
underplayed, as grimacing diatribes give way to pleas for
comprehension.
John Goldsmith's screenplay is taken directly
from the Good News version of the fourth Gospel, making this an ideal
dramatization to show in church study groups. Because the Good News
translation is more noted for readability than poeticism, Goldsmith may
have missed an opportunity for some more artful wording, but I suppose
he wanted to ensure that the film would be as accessible as possible. As
it is, most of the narration is pleasing and the dialogue natural, with
the exception of Jesus' repeated exclamation of "I am telling you the
truth!" Although I long ago got used to the fourth Gospel's abundant use
of the phrase "Truly, truly I say to you," that introductory clause is
not nearly so conspicuous as the stand-alone sentence, which smacks
slightly of desperation, as though Jesus constantly feels the need to
assure His followers that He is not lying to them.
It becomes a
catch phrase to listen for, much like the word "brother" from Desmond,
showing up mostly in long-winded speeches, some of which are
complemented by sepia-tone flashbacks in order add more visual interest.
It's in quieter moments when we get the best sense of Jesus, as when He
casually converses with the embittered woman at the well, offering her
the water of life, or when, after softly suggesting that those without
sin cast the first stone, He waits for the angry mob to dissipate before
forgiving the adulteress and gently exhorting her to sin no more.
It's hard to say whether we hear more of Cusick or Plummer. There's
very little dead silence in this film; if a character isn't speaking,
the narrator is, with a warm, rumbling tone to his voice that reflects
his reverence for the project, which he expresses in one of the special
features, as does Cusick, who explains that he tried to portray the
Christ he grew up with. The only times the narration feels awkward are
when Plummer explains something that was just said and then states,
"This is why he said..." before repeating the line. It doesn't happen
very many times, but there's a sense of superfluity to it that could
have been avoided with the snipping of a few sentences. While Plummer
usually isn't an interfering presence in the midst of dialogue, he is
most effective in lengthy voice-overs accompanied by Miroslaw Baszak's
stirring cinematography, which captures the excitement Jesus generates
and the beauty of the natural world, even in the midst of dusty expanse.
Especially impressive is the scene in which Jesus walks on the water
toward his fishing disciples, the tumultuous storm around him subsiding
with each step.
None of the actors from the extensive
supporting cast are familiar to me, and there's the usual trouble of
keeping the robed and bearded apostles straight when they are rarely
directly addressed as individuals. Doe-eyed Stuart Bunce is charming as
the devoted John, upon whom the camera lingers last before the credits
roll, while Daniel Kash strikes just the right chord as bumbling Peter.
The inclusion of Thomas' (Andy Velasquez) proposal to follow Jesus to
Jerusalem and die with Him there provides some vindication for the
much-maligned doubting disciple, whose reunion with Jesus is among the
most touching moments in the film, while Alan Van Sprang's Judas is as
shifty as I've ever seen him.
Stephen Russell's Pontius Pilate
is initially formidable but increasingly faltering as he runs out of
options in attempting to spare Jesus an unwarranted execution, while
Diego Matamoros portrays Nicodemus as a man of wisdom and courage who
stands up to his fellow authorities after becoming convinced of Jesus'
divinity. Other standouts include Lynsey Baxter as Mary Magdalene,
Stuart Fox as the man to whom Jesus restores sight, Miriam Brown as
Martha and Scott Handy as John the Baptist.
For those
intimidated by the film's three-hour length, the two-disc DVD includes a
two-hour-long version, but I'd recommend the theatrical cut, which
remains engaging to the ending that comes a solid ten minutes or so
after the risen Christ's first appearance. The trial and crucifixion are
not skimmed over, but we see the gruesome flogging only in shadow, and
the nailing to the cross occurs off-screen, so the violence is kept to a
minimum. Rather than emphasizing the agony of those scenes, the focus
is on the "good news" inherent in the ordinary, extraordinary person of
Jesus, "the resurrection and the life." Embrace it.
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