Today is my little sister’s birthday. She is 17. This does mean she will shortly be getting behind the wheel of an automotive vehicle. I would suggest to anyone living or travelling in the area of Essex close to Colchester, that they avoid the lanes and thoroughfares of that county for the foreseeable future. It is also April Fools’ Day. (Miss, miss, pinch, punch, first of the month! Can we play a trick on you?!) And what an apt day for the occasion of her birth it was too. If you think I am being harsh, take note of the following account. On receiving her gym membership, signing up for classes and attending the first one, my sister made the following remark- “Well, I enjoyed it and everything but I really can’t see what it had to do with Pirates.” Can you guess the currently popular exercise program designed to “engage body and mind” my sister had just participated in?

The Passion then… The violence was, you might say, a bit strong - not that I feel deeply opposed to graphic violence or become exceptionally squeamish when viewing such material. The argument behind such explicit scenes – all Sin forgiven, greatest sacrifice, greatest suffering, follows cruelty has to be excessive, etc, etc- is all well and good. It does, however, get a bit dull after a while. (I, not being altogether religious, am more concerned with the film’s aesthetic value, rather than its power to instruct and redeem/corrupt the public.) In addition, this purpose is rather undermined by the cheap, pseudo-poignant sensationalism we have grown to, well, tolerate from Mel Gibson.

If you would rather see the film first, do not read on. Imagine the scene- Jesus, beaten and bloody, bits hanging off, dragging the cross athwart the opening to an alleyway in which his distraught mother is waiting to catch a glimpse of him. She, paralysed with maternal suffering, cannot summon the courage to go to her son and give what words of comfort she can. Jesus, overcome with exhaustion, trips. His head cracks on the harsh stone and flashback! We are now in the presence of Jesus the boy, running along a pathway, with no regard for his personal safety, as children are wont to do. He trips- gasp! Mary, about her usual domestic duties, hears her son’s shout of anguish and rushes to him, ready to bandage his grazed and youthful knees. And we’re back in film present! This mental episode has apparently given Mary the kick up the arse she needed in order to go to her son. She now runs to him, the music building to an emotional and orchestral crescendo. We all feel suitably moved.

Having said all this, it was not as bad as I was expecting. In the man’s defence, (a phrase I am unlikely to use again, so pay attention) producing the whole film in Aramaic and Latin was a stroke of genius. Had the characters been speaking English and, Heaven forbid, (Ohh Blasphemy!) using American accents, the whole thing would have been a farce. The language was extremely pleasant to listen to and, apart from a few incidents like the one mentioned above and the lack of anything actually happening, -half an hour of various cross-dragging, falling, being beaten, more cross dragging- I must say I found it…not enjoyable but...interesting. I resisted the urge, at one point, when a leading character proclaims that Jesus is “not the Messiah” to shout out “he’s a very naughty boy.” How restrained of me. With regard to anti-Semitism, I feel that is a can of worms I best leave alone. All I will say is, the characterisation of Pontius Pilate was a little unexpected.

Now, one more thing with regard to Mel, as he seems to have got off very lightly indeed. I must recount to you certain details from another film affiliated with Mr Gibson. The Patriot is worth watching for one scene. Where I have put ‘worth’ in that sentence, feel free to insert ‘laughing at.’ Mel’s youngest daughter in the above mentioned production, for reasons best known to herself, is struck mute for most of the first part of the film. There follows, towards the end, a moving and tender scene in which the girl speaks again for the first time. Sighs of relief all round. During the proceeding dialogue between Mel and his loquacious offspring, certain details come to light that could put off the more attentive viewer. When the camera is on Mel and the child’s back is to the camera, her golden pigtails are flowing down her back. When the camera is on the girl and Mel’s back is to us, the girl’s pigtails lie on her front. Mr Gibson has been involved in much stirring and controversial cinema and much in which the production team appear to have been a bit lackadaisical in their editing. My, I have been long- winded today.

Oh, I must mention one more thing in relation to The Passion and it invloves Satan. My housemate, James, with whom I shared my Cinema Experience, commented thus at our departure from the theatre- “Well, for me, the transsexual Devil with the shaven Telly Tubby made the whole film.” The boy has a ‘degree’ in Film Studies. How’s that for a review?

And finally- I win! Mr Flossie is mine! I won’t even have to “wrestle the intellectual Property rights away from him with a crowbar”, as a friend of mine suggested. She was feeling a bit ill at the time, though.