Passion and the Pardon-Me Paragraph

A pattern is beginning to form whereby, in relation to The Passion of the Christ, a person with whom I generally disagree about the movie capture's my sympathy, only insert something, while looking for an example, that raises my eyebrows.

Amy Welborn notes a follow-up column by Michael Coren. As you may recall, on the basis of his review of the movie, I suggested that Coren seemed of the "Metrosexual Jesus" crowd. Well, reading the current column, which details some of the reaction that he received, I almost felt a pang of guilt about characterizing a portion of his review as nearly "obscene." Almost, that is, until I got to this paragraph:

I've often had these concerns about the American South, with its enormous number of supposed believers. I've wondered why, if this is the case, the southern states were not, for example, hotbeds of protest against the arms trade, against an often aggressive and immoral foreign policy, against the death penalty for people who are often poor or mentally ill, against the cutting of welfare payments to single mothers who can barely survive.

Perhaps some of the meaner notes were sent to him by folks in the South, although it's a bit jarring for a column lamenting the loss of Christian high road to throw out generalized aspersions. Nonetheless, that mush of political principles seems to weigh down a piece about personal Christian behavior. Thus does Coren confirm the suspicions of at least this one of his detractors.

Something similar arises with Gertrude Himmelfarb's blind review in the Washington Post. By blind, I mean that she hasn't seen the movie. Check out this strange use of quotation marks:

I hasten to say that I have not "personally" seen that film (rather like not having "personally" read a good many books that I have the illusion of having read from a multitude of reviews).

Shouldn't the marks be around "seen"? Typographical quirks aside, Himmelfarb did get my thoughts churning about the proper etiquette of religious folks in public, until...

How would we (Gibson and all the rest of us) feel if a Hollywood producer (a Hollywood so notoriously populated by Jews) made a film, in the same "over the edge" spirit vaunted by Gibson, dramatizing another historical event -- the auto-da-fé in Spain in February 1481, for example, in which six men and six women conversos (Jewish converts to Christianity) were tortured and burned alive at the stake, while richly robed prelates triumphally presided over the scene? Such a film, taking its cue from Gibson, might utilize all the devices of violence, sadism and malignity that he has deployed so skillfully, here as in his other films. It might be even more credible, and therefore emotionally powerful, than his because the contemporary as well as scholarly sources are more reliable. The effect would be to make of the auto-da-fé a defining experience in the relations of Jews and Christians.

Or, another thought-experiment: a film of the First Crusade produced by a Muslim. The venerable 1911 edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica describes, in relatively sober terms, the month-long siege culminating in the capture of Jerusalem: "The slaughter was terrible; the blood of the conquered ran down the streets, until men splashed in blood as they rode. At nightfall, sobbing for excess of joy, the crusaders came to the Sepulchre from their treading of the winepress, and put their blood-stained hands together in prayer. So, on that day of July, the First Crusade came to an end." An "over the edge" depiction of this scene would surely be as riveting, bloody and unforgettable as the scene of the Crucifixion, or of the auto da fé or, for that matter, of all too many episodes in our all too bloody history.

Not only wasn't I aware that the Post pays so poorly that writers must use 93-year-old encyclopedias, but I also wasn't aware that the auto-de-fé and First Crusade have much by way of "spiritual meaning" for Jews and Muslims, respectively — certainly not as much as the Passion has for Christians. This has been pointed out, already, in the Corner (read up from here). One emailer asked Ramesh Ponnuru, "how would the critics of [The Passion] respond to these films?" He appears to be talking about a comparable movie about Southern plantation brutality, but it applies as well to Himmelfarb's original "thought experiments."

And we may soon find out the answer to his question, with the release of Ridley Scott's $135 million, 20th Century Fox release of Kingdom of Heaven — all of the big-name, sympathetic stars of which seem to be on the Muslim side. (Orlando Bloom is a Muslim blacksmith-turned-warrior seeking to win a princess's heart while defending Jerusalem against the Crusaders.) Moreover, the film has already come under attack from British historians:

Mr. Riley-Smith added: "Guy of Lusignan lost the Battle of Hattin against Saladin, yes, but he wasn't any badder or better than anyone else. There was never a confraternity of Muslims, Jews and Christians. That is utter nonsense."

Jonathan Philips, a lecturer in history at London University and author of "The Fourth Crusade and the Sack of Constantinople," agreed that the film relied on an outdated portrayal of the Crusades and could not be described as "a history lesson."

The italics are mine; perhaps this movie will be sufficiently to Himmelfarb's theological and historical tastes that she'll make an effort to "personally" view it.