But suppose that a similar travail had been filmed centered upon not a Nazarene carpenter who taught the duty of love for others, but, say, an attempted regicide. In 1757, Robert-Francois Damiens set out to assassinate Louis XV. The failed assassin was apprehended, and the king quickly restored from his minor wound. The court resolved to make an enduring public record of what awaits attempted regicides, to which end were gathered together in Paris the half-dozen most renowned torturers of Europe, who in the presence of many spectators, including Casanova, managed to keep Damiens alive for six hours of pain so artfully inflicted, before he was finally drawn and quartered. What kind of an audience could Mel Gibson get for a depiction of the last hours of Robert-Francois Damiens?
The film depends, then, on the objectification of the victim as Jesus of Nazareth; but even then, the story it tells is a gross elaboration of what the Bible yields.
Consider Matthew: "And when (Pilate) had scourged Jesus, he delivered him to be crucified. ... Then they spat on him and took the reed and struck him on the head." Luke: "I will therefore chastise him and release him" -- Luke records that the soldiers "mocked" him. And John: "So then Pilate took Jesus and scourged him. ... "And they (the soldiers) struck him with their hands."
It isn't only the interminable scourging, which is done with endless inventories of instruments. The Bible has Christ suffering the weight of the cross as he climbs to Golgotha, but that is not enough for Gibson. He has stray soldiers impeding Christ every step of the way, bringing down their clubs and whips and scourges in something that cannot be understood as less than sadistic frenzy.
I write as author of a book ("Nearer, My God
This kind of improvisation is headlong in Gibson's "Passion." Still, the film cannot help moving the viewer, shaking the viewer, even as he'd be moved and shaken by seeing a re-creation of the end of Robert-Francois Damiens or one of those British sailors flogged to death. The suffering of Jesus isn't intensified by inflicting the one-thousandth blow: That is the Gibson/"Braveheart" contribution to an agony that was overwhelmingly spiritual in character and perfectly and definitively caught by Johann Sebastian Bach in his aptly named "Passion of Christ According to St. Matthew." There beauty and genius sublimate a passion that Gibson celebrates by raw bloodshed. The only serious question left in the viewer's mind is: Should God have exempted this gang from his comprehensive mercy? But that is because we are human, Christ otherwise.