Violence in ‘Passion’ merely reflects humanity

Published 9:00 pm Monday, April 5, 2004

One knock against "The Passion of the Christ" has been the vivid violence that goes to the outer edge of what most viewers can bear to watch. All media forms have some violent productions — music and music videos, movies, video games, television drama and news.

But the violence in "Passion" is different from most media violence, and the criticisms have had a greater sense of urgency

For example, there were criticisms of the violent D-Day landing at Normandy Beach in "Saving Private Ryan." In that scene, one GI’s arm was blown off. In physical and emotional shock, and perhaps not yet in pain, the GI grabs his severed arm and walks off with it. He seems to be thinking, "I better take this with me; I might need it."

The criticisms faded away pretty quickly but not before one veteran commented, "It was about time the media showed how it actually was."

Then there was the violence of the Warsaw ghetto and the Holocaust in "The Pianist." In one scene, a Nazi soldier ordered a half-dozen Jewish prisoner laborers to step out of line and lie face down. With no motive except sadistic impulse and a chance to remind other prisoners he could, the soldier personally shot them with a pistol, in the head, at close range.

There have been other excellent movies with extreme violence: "Platoon," "Unforgiven," "The Deer Hunter" and "Gandhi" all come to mind. There have been too many poor movies with violent content to count.

Parents, I don’t recommend that you allow your young children to see any of these ultraviolent movies alone. However, I would probably draw the line younger than do many people if you watch with them and talk about it.

In most violent movies there is a "they" who is, or becomes, a little less worthy, a little less fully human. Sometimes "they" are the violent ones and everybody knows "how they are." Sometimes "they" receive the violence and in some way "they had it coming."

An identifiable "they" allows moviegoers to remain observers. "They" carve out space between themselves and the viewers, making the violence, well, less painful.

In most violent movies, viewers are also protected from the impacts of interpersonal brutality.

For example, viewers seldom get immersed in the bottomless grief felt by the loved ones of a murdered person. Sean Penn’s portrayal of a father’s deep grief in "Mystic River" was an exception and earned him an Oscar. Many family members of murdered people find that grief experience well within their own experiences.

But none of those viewer protections are in place in "The Passion of the Christ."

Viewers are not observers; they are participants. Several years ago in "Glory," a slave-turned-soldier played by Denzel Washington stared defiantly into the eyes of the captain who ordered him whipped. Doing so, he confronted the white captain and us with our shared slave history. In his oppression he triumphed and made us participate.

Jim Caviezel as Jesus did the same thing in "Passion." He defiantly held the gaze of the oppressor, and of others, with one clear eye. By confronting the violence, he made us participate.

Our participation strips out the "they" from committing the violence and there is no deserving it. Their violence, and therefore ours, grows out of ignorance and fear, helplessness and sadistic impulses.

The many pains of violence become unavoidable in "The Passion:" unimaginable physical pains, driving pains of fear and ignorance, crippling pains of grief.

"The Passion" confronts viewers with the fact that we — not we of any racial or ethnic group, but rather we as human beings — are hopelessly caught between our endless abilities for violence and our helplessness in the face of violent human behaviors.

As Americans, we can’t even control the media violence we allow and support. Our children are surrounded by cheap reproductions of glossy violence stripped of its devastation. We can be thankful that "The Passion of the Christ" and a handful of other great movies show some realities of our violence.

Turns out that it is not the movie that is too violent. Turns out it is us. We are too violent. No wonder there were urgent criticisms. It is a good lesson for parents to have, but it is not entertainment.

Bill France, a father of three, is a child advocate in the criminal justice system and has worked as director of clinical programs at Luther Child Center in Everett. Send e-mail to bsjf@gte.net.