The Mashin’ of the Christ

( The Gospel according to Quentin Tarantino )




I had no intention of addressing the ‘messiah’ legacy any time soon. It is not something I am fixated on, with the exception of my constant frustration with those who swallow it whole and undigested, without the advice of a doctor. It has been dealt with adequately in this forum and I have no desire to resurrect it; except … today is Easter Sunday. Normally it is a day where people generally leave me alone and I can accomplish neglected little projects around the house to the serenade of a baseball game on the television. This year is different.

Last night I watched Mel Gibson’s ‘The Passion of the Christ’ on Showtime. I wanted to see what all the hubbub was about and I refused to pay the price of admission when it was in the theaters. I am an admitted cinemaphile, and although I have no interest in religion perse’, I am fascinated by what motivates people to adhere to a particular precept without the benefit of rationale. It is my considered opinion that this movie reveals more about Mel Gibson than it does about ‘the son of man’, and oh … what a sado / masochistic hell this Evangelical Catholic lives in. Thanks for sharing, Mel.

I had heard that it was a brutal experience. It is more than that. The brutality extends not only to depiction, but to philosophy, logic, and anxiety transference as well. Not only is the man writhing in his own Tarantino-esque chamber of horrors, but he wants us to share the ride with him. If this is what god wants, than he / she has to join the Selective Service System, L. Ron Hubbard, and AARP on my list of rejected associations.

The title gives it away. This is the ‘passion’ we are told. Passion, in my lexicon, embodies a world of emotional expression replete with layers and variations. The designation is not Mel’s doing, but it does expose the psychosis of the framers of the Christian philosophy. Those who cannot feel love, desire, joy, and compassion while in a conscious state, indulge in heightened forms of pain and disquiet to articulate their humanity. Yes, our fear of expiration and the “slings and arrows of outrageous fortune” due cause us to contemplate our mortality on occasion, but life is also a banquet of delights, and as Auntie Mame was wont to say, “most poor suckers are starving to death.” Somebody, toss Mel a cookie.