Review - The Passion of the Christ (2003)

My God, why have you forsaken me? 

This image is one of the rare occurrence in the film where Jesus' face is unscathed.

Just near the middle of Mel Gibson's biblical project The Passion of the Christ, there is a most disturbing, brutal and unflinching butchery of human flesh ever filmed on screen - Jesus is flagellated repeatedly with whips of metal and glass ends. As the whip is lashed out on his bare back, a criss-cross of wounded flesh is marked on him like some line texture as the blood spills out on the floor. A part of the metal pierces his ribs and the whip is violently jerked - a piece of his skin is torn apart in the process. And that's just the start of non-stop beatings, torture and cruelty.

You might be thinking that I have gone a bit too graphic in the description of overly gruesome violence - but The Passion of the Christ is indeed about the blood-bath. Documenting the last hours of Jesus' life, Mel Gibson manages to evoke a visceral, full-fledged assault on our senses and empathy. His film is true to its namesake - The Passion, Jesus' endurance of ineffable torture for the sake of washing away humanity's sin. The only point remains in order to judge this film is how much it moves you emotionally and spiritually, as the violence is already on the driver's seat.

Personally, as a non-Christian and a follower of a Dharmic religion, I didn't find anything which uplifts the film from the restrained scope of The Passion; the film doesn't has the narrative to portray monumental chapters of Jesus' life. There are some glimpses of Jesus' childhood with Mother Mary, his life as a rural Jewish carpenter in Nazareth, his sermon on the hill, The Last Supper, etc - all of these are intersected with the gory bits; these are too short in length and too oddly placed for their influence on the viewer. In short, the film is entirely based on the suffering of the Jesus Christ. To answer the question posed above, the film affects you - mostly emotionally - not because it does it effortlessly, but because you have to be an inhumane piece of rock to not be moved by such an cruel torment. As far as spirituality is concerned, Mel Gibson hardly cares about it nor his vision caters this aspect. His only focus remains on the titular context, everything else is either briefly acknowledged or left out completely.

That said, it goes without saying that The Passion of the Christ is a remarkable achievement. The lead actor, Jim Caviezel is particularly brilliant - even though most of the times he is piled up beneath tonnes of prosthetics and make-up, he lets his physical acting speak for him. He plays Jesus as a mere human - a human subject to intense torture, a human who has given up his body, his soul to the God. Caviezel never embodies Jesus as a divine figure, not even in a single shot - but his unscathed countenance in the flashbacks emanates mystical aura. Maia Morgenstern plays Mother Mary effectively, as the emotional crux of the film is on her shoulders.

Technically, the film is a well staged - photographically, the film is lighted like a painting from Caravaggio - Caleb Deschanel's masterful work gives a timeless quality to the film. Some of the shots of this film are so brilliantly framed that they are iconic in their own right. Francesco Frigeri's set design is pitch perfect in showcasing the Semitic background. John Debney's score has an eclectic mix of instruments - electric cello, an eastern woodwind, solo vocals - all of them highlight their respective scenes in the film and yet never over-powering them.

Gibson could have toned down the violence a bit and added some more bits of Jesus' teachings and his earlier life. The resulting work might have been much more balance and spiritually affecting. The Passion of the Christ ultimately moves you but in a forced manner - Gibson literally onslaughts with blood and gore on the viewers. The film is a hard NC-17 - but actually it is not; any other film might have never gotten away with an R rating. So much "religious license" Gibson has got, alas, not so the artistic one.

3.5/5

Review - The Piano (1993)

The tale of elusive desires and obscure intentions

Both Hunter and Paquin are outstanding in this somewhat disappointing affair.

Jane Campion's 1993 celebrated drama, The Piano, is humane tale filled with sentiment and catharsis, but it is not without flaws. Written by Campion herself, we follow our protagonist - a 30-year old mute widowed woman named Ada (Holly Hunter), who is sold off into marriage to a man named Alistair (Sam Neill) by her father to a secluded place in New Zealand. Along with her young daughter Flora (Anna Paquin), an ardent, mature and yet a naive girl, she arrives to New Zealand's stormy coast with quite a luggage. She has brought a full-size piano with her. We are told that her piano is her only outlet of expression. Her feelings, her thoughts and her desires are all are channeled to swinging notes and melodies of the piano. It is her voice.

She is however, separated from the piano. Never fully settling in the foreign land with foreign relations, Ada grows lonely. The plot further progresses to introduction of Alistair's friend, Baines (Harvey Keitel), a European who has adopted Maori ways. Baines is immediately smitten by Ada, which makes him to bring the piano to his home. He asks Alistair to make Ada teach him the instrument. Ada reluctantly agrees, but soon it becomes clear that Baines has no prospects to learn the piano - but he rather wants to "do things" while she plays it. Disgusted at first, Ada agrees with the agreement of sexual liaisons - only to get her piano back, one key per tryst.

Then follows a string of erotic sessions. The Piano is one of the rare films which celebrate the human body- not just the female one, but even the male frontal nudity. During one scene, while Ada plays some melodious composition, Baines strolls around completely naked. The scene is bold and provocative, yet never exploitative. The sex scenes are too handled tastefully - the camera lingers on the outer door and catches the lovers in sight via a crack in the wooden frame in a voyeuristic manner. The audience is obligated to respect the couple's privacy, confined to a cage of dwindling morality -  a cage in which the main protagonists are certainly trapped.

Things set into a turmoil when Flora catches both of them while peeking through a keyhole. Furious with her mother, she communicates this falsehood to her step-father. The film's narrative reaches the climax when frustrated Alistair confronts a defiant Ada - a scene with a devastating aftermath.
Without spoiling much, that scene alone justifies an Oscar for both Holly Hunter and Anna Paquin. There is a powerful, crushing moment where Hunter's near-blank expression bursts with tremendous shock and agony. Being mute, her mouth speaks no word, but her eyes pierces your heart with a wrecking jolt. Paquin equally complements her elder actress - her remarking acting talent leaves you overwhelmed.

The problem with The Piano is certainly not with its actors, neither with its production values, cinematography or the score (which all are brilliant). But the script wanders - some sub-plots are implausible and the character do not have a clear motive for their actions. Having an uneven tone, the film sways to emotional extremes with heart-shattering highs and impassive lows. The ambiguity, the lack of clear conclusion in the end is irksome. The open-to-interpret endings work amazingly for many films, but here it does not. The Piano is deeply riveting but only at times. Campion never allows her narrative wings to soar higher into the cinematic skies

3/5