The Passion Of The Christ vs Signs

Someone told me the other day that I wouldn’t be able to find a movie to compare to The Passion of the Christ for this website. It’s not that it’s an incomparable movie; the implication was more that it’s inappropriate to compare it to anything else. Like it would be sacrilege or something. Ridiculous. The Passion of the Christ, despite what you might have read or heard or even experienced in the theater, is a movie. It was made by movie stars and millionaires and was tested and marketed just like School of Rock and Anger Management. While The Passion of the Christ is a movie with an almost unshakable voice and vision, it is also one of significant contradictions.

The Passion of the Christ, as you know, is the story of the last twelve hours in the life of Jesus of Nazareth. Or, to put it more specifically, it’s a detailed account of the last twelve hours in the life of Jesus of Nazareth. Story is most definitely not the right term, since The Passion neglects much in the way of character and narrative in exchange for a brutal play-by-play of the events leading up to, during and after the crucifixion. It is a movie that I would call impossible to take your eyes off of, if not for the fact that I was looking away about a third of the time.  The Passion of the Christ is brutally violent, gory and bloody. It’s as realistically violent, in its own way, as Saving Private Ryan, and as over-the-top violent as Kill Bill, although in this case, all the violence and blood is heaped onto one person. Anyone expecting The Life of Christ, or Some Nice Things Christ Did, or even Hey Look, It’s Christ Not Being Tortured, is in for a surprise, because The Passion of the Christ takes “passion” at its oldest meaning. This movie is all about the suffering Jesus endured in his final hours. Period. It’s almost exactly two hours, and I would guess that at least an hour and a half of that are torture and/or crucifixion. Jesus is whipped (in a scene of such exhausting medieval extremes that it becomes near fetishized) and left so bloodied that he’s unrecognizable. When he wears the crown of thorns, it’s forced down onto his head until blood pours out from each point. And when he carries the cross, he falls again and again, the heavy cross falling onto him, knocking him to the street. At one point, near the end of the film, Simon is helping Jesus carry the cross and says “It’s almost over.” I think it’s the most moving moment of the film, but it also came as somewhat of a relief. The crucifixion is, of course, the most violent aspect of the movie, as I suppose it should be. I’m not sure what a non-violent crucifixion would look like anyway.

The Passion stars Mel Gibson. No, he never appears on screen, but Gibson is present throughout, in much the same way Steven Spielberg is all over A.I., and David Lynch seems to be playing all the parts in Mulholland Drive. It’s not that Mel Gibson has a distinct visual or narrative style to call his own, but The Passion is so obviously an expression of his personal beliefs and well, passions, that it’s impossible not to think of him throughout the movie.

Gibson’s previous two movies as director, The Man Without A Face (a.k.a The Man with Half Mel Gibson’s Face), and Braveheart, both dealt with Christ-like individuals being challenged by, and ultimately challenging, the status quo. In both movies, Mel cast himself in the lead to varying degrees of success (I think Braveheart is pretty great, and though Man Without A Face is predictable and preachy, it’s not without its charms). In The Passion of the Christ, thankfully, Mel did not cast himself as Jesus Christ (and you know as well as I do that Kevin Costner would have cast himself. The movie would be four hours long, and you would be all “I know he didn’t cast himself as Jesus,” but dude, he would have.) No, you lucky moviegoers, Mel Gibson cast Jim Caviezel as Jesus Christ, which lends immeasurably to The Passion. Caviezel embodies Jesus as a character more specifically and completely than any actor I’ve seen. I’m not sure how much of a performance it is in the traditional sense; it’s only in brief flashbacks that Caviezel gets to portray the human, charitable, brave side of Jesus that got everyone so riled up. We only get glimpses of Jesus’ teachings: a brief excerpt from the Sermon on the Mount, an even briefer glimpse of the Last Supper, and one scene of happier days between a table-building Jesus at his mother’s house. In these moments, Caviezel is graceful and eloquent, and you get the idea that a Jesus this charismatic wouldn’t have much trouble gaining followers, which is something rarely mentioned. The dude was happening, okay? The pre-crucifixion scenes are thankfully spaced throughout the movie, rather than all at the beginning, giving us a break from the mayhem, as well as a more personal look into the things Jesus was saying. We don’t get much in the way of the impact he was having, other than the horrified crowds gathered later, and that’s a shame. I can only review the movie at hand, though, and not what I think is missing. That sort of thinking is what distracted so many moviegoers during The Hurricane and A Beautiful Mind. Yes, other stuff happened, but it’s not in the movie, so here, it simply can’t apply.  Gibson, for whatever reason, has elected to focus on the punishment Jesus received for his teachings, rather than the teachings themselves. There’s an opportunity, I think, to inspire—and it’s definitely there sporadically. Jesus’ sermon on the mount, where he tells his followers to love their enemies, as well as his forgiveness on the cross, gives an idea of just how revolutionary this way of thinking can be—but instead, I was left feeling uneasy, as if Gibson were telling me “You just sit there in the theater and think about what you’ve done.” And that’s fair. Gibson titled his movie “The Passion of the Christ”, and that’s what he delivers, so no complaints, right? Oh, if only.

During the trial scenes, Jesus seems to have only scattered supporters, and it’s never clear who’s who. The trial, by the way, is over-the-top Monty Python stuff that seems yanked from another movie. There has been talk that parts of The Passion are anti-Semitic, and if anything gives fuel to this argument, it’s the trial of Christ. The Jewish leaders are at turns bumbling and bullying, and though I don’t find their portrayal anti-Semitic per se, I do find it remarkably silly. The same goes for Barrabas, who is portrayed about half way between pro-wrestler and the guy locked in the basement in The Goonies. Evil is personified throughout The Passion, as an androgynous, cloak-wearing devil, bald and gray and taunting Jesus in the garden. He has, at varying times, snakes and evil toddlers, and he glides just above the ground. It’s a pretty creepy idea, and for the most part, it works, despite the fact that it’s been cribbed from MTV circa 1994. And, Gibson overdoes the slow motion, applying it to everything from a fist fight to a drop of rain.

There are characters besides Jesus in The Passsion, but many of them only register in a passing way. The characters that lingered the most for me were the women. Mary is played by Maia Morgenstern, and she’s wonderful. There’s so much beauty and dignity in her performance, and in a movie of little subtlety, Morgenstern is a constant calming presence. Mary Magdalene, never called by name, is played by Monica Belucci. Normally, Mary Magdalene is portrayed as a harlot, all eye-shadowed and dramatic, sort of like Miss Kitty to Jesus’ Marshall Dillon. Here, she’s more tragic and lovely. Her role is almost completely silent, but Belucci is absolutely stunning in this movie.

So is The Passion of the Christ worth seeing? Yes. People are going to be asking you about it all the time anyway, so go and see what all the fuss is about. The Passion, as you can probably imagine, is a visceral experience. It really isn’t just a movie, I suppose; afterward I was physically exhausted. You might not even feel like watching another movie afterward, and that’s fine. Say, if you see The Passion on a Friday night, then around noon on Saturday, maybe you should put in Signs.

Like The Passion of the Christ, Signs deals with men and religion, with God and sons and forgiveness. Unlike The Passion, Signs is a quiet, moody film that only suggests at violence, leaving the men to be tortured from the inside, by guilt and paranoia. After your Friday night of The Passion’s passions, however impressive they might be, you’re going to need some fun, and I can’t think of a better place to get it than Signs.

Signs was the fourth movie directed by M. Night Shyamalan, and in a short time, he’s become one of the directors that is his own brand name. Shyamalan could easily pull a Tarantino and subtitle his next movie “The Fifth Film by M. Night Shyamalan”. He’s the real star of Signs, present in every frame of the movie.

In the more literal sense, Signs stars Mel Gibson, as Graham Hess, a former minister, recently widowed. He’s raising his two young kids with the help of his brother Merrill (Joaquin Phoenix), and though he’s a sensible dad, he’s also remarkably sad and withdrawn. One night, Graham and Merrill hear something outside, and despite coming at the noise from both sides, they can’t find anything.

Later, in their cornfield, they find…well, you know…signs.

One of the wonders of Signs, and of M. Night Shyamalan’s direction, is how little it shows. We knew, going in, that the movie was probably about UFOs and aliens and crop signs. And, in a way, for a while, it is. The pattern in the Hess family field is huge, and no one can figure out just exactly how it got there. At first, it’s chalked up to neighborhood pranks, but then closer inspection reveals that the pattern is very specific and meticulous and most definitely not the work of bullies from this planet. And then, they start appearing all over the globe. Graham’s kids believe in the alien rumors almost immediately, doing research at bookstores and wearing aluminum foil on their heads. Where other movies of this genre (Armageddon, Independence Day) take this point in the script to shift the focus to huge rooms of generals and politicians and special effects, Signs goes in the opposite direction. It gets smaller. The only major authority figure is the local Deputy, played by Cherry Jones, the first cop in a movie like this who is instantly logical, curious, and open to possibilities. She doesn’t discount any odd theories or think the main characters are crazy. Cherry Jones would have scoped out the Gremlins in about half an hour, and gotten home in time for dinner. The Grahams, once they realize the threat is no hoax, retreat into their home, where they have to deal with the real crisis at hand: each other. M. Night Shyamalan is smart, you see; he knows that E.T. is really about friendship and divorce. He knows that Close Encounters is about loneliness. Signs, ultimately, is just a small story about a family, trapped inside their house. And it’s in the house that Shyamalan creates Signs’ most powerful effects. Merrill watches footage of a child’s birthday party, and we’re horrified, because he’s horrified. It’s one of the most powerful thriller scenes in years, mainly because of its simplicity and honesty. I also enjoyed the “last supper” scene, where each family member gets whatever they want to eat, and then all anyone really wants is to be with the others.  And then…and then it’s getting late, and they’re getting closer, and the Hess family heads down to the basement.

Maybe have a lamp on during these scenes. Maybe put your cell phone on the couch beside you, or maybe even a nice snow-globe or maybe a picture of some puppies you can focus on. Try to get to your happy place as soon as possible.

With Signs, M. Night Shyamalan shows his gifts not just for gimmick (we know there are going to be twists and surprises, because we’ve seen his other movies), but also for character and story. Every character is believably a member of the same family, and they inhabit a house that immediately seems lived in. I even believed that was Mel Gibson’s dog. Both Gibson and Phoenix give their best performances, and Rory Culkin is shaping up to be one of the more distinct and reliable younger actors.

The true pleasure of Signs, for me, is in its subtlety. The suggestion of aliens outside the door, the hint of invisible ships barricading off the sky. A movie that contains an alien attack and an asthma attack, and the latter is just as suspenseful as the former. All this, plus a score lifted from Hitchcock. It’s damn near every single thing I want in a movie. So, does it warrant comparison to The Passion of the Christ? Is it cathartic and spiritual and worthy of discussion? Yeah, I think it is. Signs ends with Mel’s character reaffirming his faith. It’s a really simple moment. He just puts back on his collar, and leaves the room, and we know. We know what he’s been through the past couple days, and what he went through leading up to the past couple days, and he comes through with his spirituality intact, a better father, and an all-around happier human being, going out to spread good and charity and all those things JWD. And, I didn’t have to hide my eyes once.

The Passion of the Christ: B
Signs: A