Mel Gibson's disturbing 'The Passion of the Christ' deserves to be seen -but the censor has got it wrong, writes Hugh Linehan.
You may not have heard of Greg Cannom, despite the fact that he's been nominated for seven Oscars. Cannom is a make-up effects artist, a craftsman of human carnage. Using latex and colouring, he can effect the most startling changes. In films such as Hannibal, Dracula and Alien 3, he has depicted eviscerations and acts of cannibalism. One imagines he knows exactly how to explode an eyeball convincingly or hack off a limb.
In Mel Gibson's The Passion of the Christ, Cannom's work, along with others, has resulted in the most explicitly violent depiction of the scourging and crucifixion of Jesus Christ portrayed on screen. In the film, Jesus is flayed with metal whips by Roman centurions until most of the skin has been removed from his front and back. Lumps of bleeding flesh are ripped from his body; blood and skin fly everywhere. On the hill of Golgotha, the same blood, deep red and viscous, pours out as spikes are driven through his hands and feet. When a spear is thrust into his side, a spray of red-tinged liquid gushes forth. It's a symphony of pain, rendered in excruciating, perfect detail.
Some critics have described The Passion of the Christ as a horror movie, which is not far from the truth. It's not necessarily an insulting description - horror is by its very nature unsettling, provocative, and all the better for that.
It's also seen as faintly disreputable. Examples of the genre are rarely honoured in awards ceremonies or critics' "Best Of" lists. Yet its concerns - the weakness of the flesh, the inevitability of mortality, the question of an afterlife - are arguably more profound than many other genres. And they can be seen as following in a direct line of descent from popular forms of religious or spiritual expression which have been marginalised or suppressed in our official, sanitised, secular culture. If Hieronymus Bosch were alive today, he would surely be a film director. And if the sanguinary ecstasies of horror cinema have any antecedents in Western culture, it's surely in the last 500 years of religious art.
Theologians (not known for their movie-going habits) have expressed their revulsion at Gibson's blood-drenched excess, and their disdain for his literal-mindedness. But it's that very simplicity of purpose and - yes - vulgarity which give his film its visceral, unsettling force.
Gibson is a populist, who has made his fame and fortune at the interstice where exploitation film-making morphs into the modern-day blockbuster. From Mad Max to Braveheart, his favourite role has been that of a bloodstained, warlike Messiah. Brash, unsubtle, sometimes silly yet undeniably powerful, these films relish the crunch of metal on bone, the squelch of ruptured bodies.
Thanks to the skills of Greg Cannom and his ilk, there are few technical limits to the carnage which can be depicted on film. In fact, the only brakes are imposed by the certification systems which pertain in different countries, most importantly in the US. If the distributors of a violent film don't get the certificate they hope for, the financial losses may be huge.
The Passion of the Christ is almost certain to be a massive hit in this country, regardless of its certificate. And it deserves to be, because it's a powerful and provocative film, regardless of where you might stand on its religious and political implications. But it has been given the wrong certificate in the Republic.
"The Passion of the Christ is a serious cinematic dramatisation of an event that goes to the core of the beliefs of very many people in Ireland." So said the Irish film censor, John Kelleher, when he announced his decision to grant a 15PG certificate to Gibson's film (the censor now finds himself in the unusual position of having his quote re-used for publicity purposes by the film's distributors). Kelleher also said (correctly, in this writer's view) that accusations that the film was anti-Semitic were unwarranted.
What does a 15PG mean? According to the censor's office, the certificate means that "while the film is, in the opinion of the censor, suitable only for people over 15 years of age, a person under that age may be admitted to see this film if he or she is accompanied by a parent or guardian". In this case, the censor's opinion has been reinforced by the requirement that all advertising material for The Passion of the Christ should also carry the health warning: "This film contains scenes of explicit violence which may disturb some viewers". But the certificate still leaves it open to adults to bring children of 10 years or less to see the film.
In theory, the reform of the ratings system some years ago by the then censor, Sheamus Smith, was sensible and progressive. By changing the 12 and 15 ratings to 12PG and 15PG, it made parents and guardians the ultimate arbiters of what was appropriate to be viewed by the young people in their care. But anyone who goes to the movies on a regular basis will attest to the fact that you can't underestimate the stupidity of some adults, who will bring small children to completely inappropriate films. And, unlike the UK, the previous ratings were not retained alongside the new ones, so the option of a "straight" 15 certificate was not open to the censor (in the UK, the film is rated 18). John Kelleher has committed himself to increasing the openness and accountability of his office, but the 15PG decision in this case seems a mistake.
In the last five years, this writer has seen many less violent, less disturbing films than The Passion of the Christ, all of which received an 18 cert. Some have been good, some awful. But once you accept the principle of film classification (which is an argument for another day), it seems perverse to permit such a glaring loophole in relation to this one admittedly remarkable but still disturbingly violent film.
'The Passion of the Christ' is on general release