In the beginning there was nothing, and then there came film. And this film was made of Gibson, for from Gibson’s work it had come. The film was The Passion of the Christ and great calamity was caused by the film. Such were the times that the public had to suffer through: whenst news reports came by the dozen giving unto the masses free publicity of a film that would shock all. Then came the reviews, some of which were copied by others and some that were not. Lo, the task falls upon me and is one I shall burden, set to endure. And such is a notion that all should take heed of: movies should be enjoyed, not endured.
And The Passion is a movie that must be endured, for there is no other way to view it. And none could sit and enjoy for the film was full of pride: lo, pride of Gibson, giver of atrocious interviews. The masses gathered for the opening of The Passion and were greeted with feelings, many of which were mixed. Hence they cried or wept or in the case of some reviewers, laughed at choice scenes for their absurd nature. Most of all came forth the notion that none could watch The Passion again and again, for once was enough of a struggle. Many of the people wished for things of goodness like Jesus Christ Superstar, from whenst came the great message: “Jesus Chirst, Superstar, Who are you? What have you sacrificed?”
Lo, The Passion of the Christ does show us what there was to sacrifice. The sacrifice was that of blood from the body of he who played the Christ: whom Hollywood calls Jim Caveizel. And the blood came in buckets if not larger amounts: for rivers could be made of the amount of blood spilled from the flayed flesh of the star. And the flesh was indeed flayed and mangled and sprayed across the screen such that directors of horror films became disgusted and fled, feeling themselves failures in the shadow of he who is Gibson. And because of this Gibson was pleased and backed the film borne of his body even more. And a girl sayeth unto me that the film should be called Rack of Lamb, for he who was Jesus appeared to be prepped for a barbeque. And the masses were appalled by this and with angered hearts proclaimed the film wrong, not for the film itself but for the idea of the film.
Nay, they did not view the film as a film, for then they would have found that it was not a very good film. “Bored!” they would have cried. “This film bores us!” And lo, they were correct, for if thine heart does not belong to the idea of the Christ, then the film hast little if no meaning, and such was a problem known by all. Such was the problem that plagued mine own body as I yawned a number of times that I could not count. And count them I wish I had, for it would have detracted me from the inaccuracies and dramatic license taken for the film. Whenst did Satan come to Jesus during the scripture I ask? And lo does Gibson let me know and see: for Satan carries a frightening baby, who looks as an old man and was frightful.
But such fears and frights were not because of the film that was borne of Gibson, but because of the attention the film hast received. And such attention is not merited, for the film is no work of art, but perhaps would have come close if the subtitles were removed like Gibson had wanted in the beginning. But lo! there is money to be made and temples to be built upon the idea of film. Although the notion will not leave mine head, and rings clearer each minute: “Christ,” I sayeth: “It’s just a movie.”