Australian Odeon
Since it's infancy, Western cinema has always put versions of the gospels to screen, from the silent era onwards. Virtually all of them suffer from the same problem; how they deal with the character of Jesus. Upon introducing Jesus within any given film, the audience is expected to bring their own idea of Jesus to project onto the blank slate of the film’s Jesus. Though this may avoid controversy by not contradicting any ideas an individual audience member may have about the Messiah, it renders the majority of gospel based films uninspiring and hollow because there’s never an emotional investment or interest in Jesus independent of Christian faith.
Many directors have put the gospels to screen over cinema’s one and a quarter century of existence, with little substantive difference between them. From The Gospel According to St. Matthew, directed as an intellectual exercise by gay, atheist, Italian director Pier Paolo Pasolini, to King of Kings, directed by Nicolas Ray in a continuation of his fascination with young men persecuted for behaving contrarily to society’s expectations, the majority of Jesus centric films have a ethnically inaccurate Anglo-Saxon actor with a beard and robes, droning out Jesus’ greatest hits like a Stepford-Messiah. By the simple act of pointing a camera at a Jesus facsimile, audience members are expected, nay required, to bring their own ideas about the character in order to make him three dimensional. This can be viewed as a purposeful technique by the writers/directors in order to appeal to as wide a cross-section of Christian cinema goers as possible, but also as a by-product of combining all the gospels into a single film despite the fact that they each offer different perspectives on the life of Jesus. In blending all the gospels together, any dramatic thrust within the narrative is lost, because any time a particular temperament emerges, it’s undone by a rapid shift in character when the film changes Gospels. One of the most prominent examples of this is in the depiction of Jesus’ final words on the cross. The Gospel of Matthew, Jesus cries out ‘Father, why have you forsaken me?’ depicting a thoroughly human Jesus losing his faith at the final moment of sacrifice. However, the Gospel of Luke has Jesus saying ‘Father unto your hands I commend my spirit’ before dying, maintaining the focus on the unwavering divinity of Jesus found throughout Luke. These are rather contradictory accounts showing two quite different Jesus’, but all too many films have Jesus say both while on the cross in quick succession, undermining the emotional affect of either exclamation.
In departing from the story of Jesus as contained in the Gospels, Martin Scorsese's The Last Temptation of Christ caused a wave of controversy upon its release in 1988, echoing the backlash the novel experienced ever since it was first published in 1955. While the incongruous ethnicities and accents are more noticeable here than in any other film about Jesus. The film opens with Jesus displaying the carpentry skills for which he is known, but for a different purpose; fashioning the cross bar for a crucifix. This Jesus wears a belt riddled with spikes, as a form of self flagellation for his participation in Roman executions, riddled with guilt and confusion, blood strewn across his face as he helps drives in the nails. This Jesus does not welcome his task as saviour of all mankind, engaging in these reprehensible acts against his own people in the hopes God will release him from this service. He embarks on a pilgrimage to the desert, to find out once and for all what God's plan is for him, and upon emerging, the film begins to align itself more closely with the Gospels. But even in these parts, Scorsese does not simply have Willem Dafoe repeat the teachings we all know. He argues them, works through the initial rejection many people have for his teachings until they are convinced, rather than brainwashed. However, this also allows his message to be misinterpreted, feeding his insecurity about whether he is pursuing the path God has set for him. The argument he has with Judas about the importance of the body next to the soul is a prime example of this, and Jesus quickly becomes a charismatic protagonist, whose success you cheer for. Judas' inevitable betrayal packs a more emotional punch because we have seen the emotional investment Judas has made in Jesus, and his disappointment that the Messiah has not turned out to be the fellow warrior for which he had hoped.
The final temptation eluded to in the title is offered to Jesus on the cross, in the form of a young child bringing him down. His wish to be released from God's service has been granted, his sacrifice is no longer necessary because he is not the Messiah, but upon his deathbed, Satan reveals this to be a trick in an effort to prevent God's plan. Jesus rejects this future of human love and loss and finds himself back on the cross, willingly giving his life for God's cause, despite knowing the life he could have if he wanted. Jesus' rejection of the last temptation serves to reaffirm nobility of his sacrifice and does a far greater service to the story of Christ than Mel Gibson's two hour gore-fest.
In adapting Nikos Kazantzakis’ novel of the same name to the screen, Martin Scorsese achieved in The Last Temptation of Christ a depiction of the messiah that humanised Jesus to a greater extent than any adaptation before or since, creating a far more satisfying cinematic experience.
For non-believers at least.