Nelson de la Nuez's "The Last Happy Meal"
In the midst of this holiday season, as Christmas inches closer and closer, why not take a moment to investigate the birthday boy, Jesus Christ? Millennia after his death, no one remains as famous nor as controversial as the Son himself. His likeness, or rather artists' rendering of it, is as recognizable as the face of
Marilyn Monroe, his name is as familiar as
Elvis Presley, and his presence in conversation is as dominant as the latest tribulations of newsstand martyr Britney Spears. Perhaps it seems heretical for me to make such comparisons between pop culture and the most dominant of religious icons, but I do it merely to illuminate a point: in the history of the world, on the scale of social impact and cultural relevance, Madonna has nothing on Jesus.
Oh, Religion... The topic we all have such strong opinions and convictions about is the one we most loathe discussing. When it comes to God and Man, we are so damn touchy. If you believe in God, you're a fool; if you don't, you're blind. There is nothing, (sans politics and how the government spends our money), that sparks such heated debate or arouses such defensive anger as religion-- though the argument of it is a moot endeavor. No one is going to give in, no one's changing his or her mind, and at the end of the discussion, the only resolution opposing parties reach is to agree to disagree... Or rather agree to accept that the other party is an ignorant ass.
God is everywhere: as a concept or a symbol, as a source of dissension or unity. He is at the center of massive wars abroad and theological ones at home. Since cinema is one of the most far-reaching arms of the media, along with television and radio, it is no surprise that the topic of religion should find its way time and again onto the silver screen, taking different forms, asking different questions, and revealing each time different truths about its current society. The most recent and publicly acknowledged "Yes, yes, yes," vs. "No, no, no" battle took place over Mel Gibson's controversial
The Passion of the Christ of 2004. It seems ironic that in the world of movies, where we indulge in images of graphic, senseless violence, gratuitous sex, and eye-opening, intellectually penetrating films about every topic in the political/social spectrum, "Jesus" is the only subject that truly makes people squirm.
The argument over this particular film was that it was created with an anti-Semitic agenda by Gibson, who used the film to put down the Jewish faith and elevate his own. Half of the public, in general those of the Christian persuasion, embraced the film, broke box-office records, and reported that the film was a devoted and inspiring portrait of Christ the King. The other half of the public stood outside movie theaters with signs defaming the picture, defending other religious demographics, and protesting the heinous scenes of violence, which they believed contradicted the film's supposed message of Faith. For those of us towing a middle line, trying to find an unbiased opinion and survive the almost absurd anarchy, there wasn't much to do but sit back and say... well, "Jesus..."
As in all things Hollywood, this wasn't a first: where there's religion, there's trouble, and so it was almost 80 years prior when
Cecil B. DeMille was filming his epic,
The King of Kings. If you thought
The Passion was a mess, wait until you get a load of this! Whereas
The Passion unfolded itself to a nation still reacting to the events of Sept. 11, 2001, a country looking for otherworldly answers or hope for the current catastrophe,
Kings came about in the age of the Jazz-Baby, during a time of economic and social extravagance, where drugs, sex, and the changing tides of social norms came crashing down on tradition like an unstoppable wave. DeMille, therefore, approached the telling of the death of Christ with a different intent. He wanted to pay homage, but he also wanted to humanize. Christ was to be taken down off the cross and made into a flesh and blood man, one that audiences could relate to. The characterization was altered, so that the Son of God was not soft and effeminate, but masculine; he may have been beaten and bullied, but he was a tough guy as well, feared as much as he was loved. Much of DeMille's film was based upon the novel
The Man Nobody Knows by Bruce Barton, which looked at Jesus from a modern perspective, as a business man and every man, and not a symbol.
Of course, DeMille's script caused controversy before it even left the page. Not only did DeMille have to make a film that was historically accurate-- during the filming of which he had on hand a Protestant minister as an advisor-- but he also had to make sure that nothing was offensive to the other religious factions, aka prospective ticket buyers. As a result, he had to have representatives for members of the Catholic, Jewish, Buddhist, and Muslim faith on set as well. The painstaking effort to be as politically correct as possible was fully endorsed by MPPDA Director
Will Hays, himself a Presbyterian elder. As the censorship czar, his agenda was not so much to preserve a wholesome and honest image of the Christ, but to create a sellable product for the public. Above all things, he was in the business of making money, not movies, so while making a film that would appeal to Christians may have been nice, the studio had to be able to sell tickets to the other sects as well.
After all of the recent controversy swimming in Hollywood by 1926-- which was still recovering from the scandalous fall of
Fatty,
Willy, and
Wally-- Hays had to find a way to endear the ever-resistant religious community to the movies. Hollywood could not afford a boycott, so this film was a deliberate peacemaker, made with the hope of solidifying an alliance between the Church and Cinema. Indeed, the "Church" was on board with this whole design, for they wanted to win back their audiences as well. Attendance to Sunday Mass had dropped drastically as ticket sales at the movies had started to climb, and it seemed that the public had found a new God to worship. Religious leaders and preachers wrote letters of protest to the studios, claiming that they were defiling the nation's youth and teaching sin and amorality with their scandalous film scenarios. But, they understood the power of movies as a great communicator and believed that Movie Palaces could essentially be turned into Cathedrals, using moral and holy screenplays to preach the word of God the world over. Some theaters began running films preceded with prayers and some ministers began showing films during their sermons.
Indeed, there was a great fusion of religion and entertainment, which can be seen through the success of the Evangelist
Aimee Semple McPherson (
left). In the roaring twenties, lengthy sermons about good and evil ceased to hold an audience's interest, so Ms. Semple created a new brand of preaching, which writer Richard Maltby refers to as "religious vaudeville." It was not
mass, it was a
show. A show about God. There was singing, dancing, showmanship, and an ever-present undercurrent of sex, which the throngs of attendees ate up with a golden spoon. Semple raised the stakes and provided room to breathe, for church-goers felt that they could be a little naughty and still go to Heaven. There was further controversy surrounding Semple when she disappeared, and presumably drowned, only to re-emerge and claim that she had been kidnapped. When the truth came out that she had merely been holed up in a love nest with a married man, it instigated further debate. New-agers found it befitting to the modern period; traditionalists saw it as a call to arms. This all occurred in April of 1926, during the filming of DeMille's
Kings, and obviously had a profound effect on production.
DeMille finally finished his classic in January of 1927. After enduring the harsh criticism of test audiences, studio stipulations, and the necessary edits demanded by the B'hai B'rith committees, he only hoped that there was enough left of his film to provide a truthful and compelling story. But, since there is no universal religion, it is impossible to make a religiously themed movie that everyone will agree on. When audiences saw the film, the reactions were as expected. Despite all of the preparation and tireless efforts at bipartisanship, the divide was clear. One portion of the audience was moved to tears, sitting in awe at a masterpiece that revealed their God to them as they had never seen him before. The other portion was up in arms, finding the movie anti-Semitic. In accordance with the endless issues, the film was changed so that, among other things, Caiaphas alone was blamed for Jesus's crucifixion and all Jewish participation was eliminated. (
D.W. Griffith, always a source of controversy, had witnessed the same problems with his film
Intolerance, one fourth of which revolved around the crucifixion).
The King of Kings was neither a failure nor a success, breaking just about even at the box-office. Perhaps it would have done better if there hadn't been so many cooks in the kitchen, for working around and pleasing every faction of society had resulted in a film that didn't even please the director himself.
From Dogma
There are nearly 80 years separating the premieres of both
The King of Kings and
The Passion of the Christ, but the same scenario played out in the public both times. This type of thing, therefore, is not a phenomenon but a fact. We each hold our own personal brand of religion close to our hearts, whether the staunch faith we have relies on a higher power or on ourselves alone. When that "trust" we have is offended, insulted, or threatened, we break into sweats, lash out, and pretty much go bonkers. No film can be viewed with complete objectivity, especially when it presents topics like this that arouse such emotion within us. It becomes hard to look at a film itself alone, as an independent contribution to art, after it has been steeped in such vengeful dialogue and diatribe. (I am curious to know your thoughts and reactions to both films, by the way, and how they effected you both in the artistic and social realms). It seems, in the end, that no one can really make a movie about God. It always winds up being too much about man, both inside the theater and out.
