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Forget The Ten Commandments. Forget Ben Hur, The Greatest Story Ever Told, The Robe, and whatever other bullshit Tinsletown Triviality has bombastically bastardized Christ's life and purpose.
This is the real deal, folks.
Ironically, Martin Scorcese's unorthodox vision of the Son of God was deemed blasphemous by a number of religious leaders upon its release; I clearly remember pastor Lloyd Ogilvie (former TV preacher, current pastor of the U.S. Senate) denouncing this evil film from his pulpit during a service I attended at the Hollywood Presbyterian Church many years ago.
It's true that Willem Dafoe's Christ is, at best, very loosely based on any biblical tradition or scripture - when we meet him, he's making crosses for the Romans. But in abdicating literal adherence to scriptural chronology and text (which, let's face it, has been revised over the centuries by so many drunken monks, who the hell knows what Jesus said �), director Scorcese frees himself to better capture Christ's dusty times in ancient Jerusalem, and more importantly, the inner conflict of man imprisoned within his own divine turmoil.
Don't miss the scene where Jesus reaches into his chest and pulls out his own heart. Wheww! �
Since I first became aware of Christian dogma, I've also been aware of several key philosophical errors in its most fundamental precepts (all Jews are going to hell; full unequivocal redemption is possible for Hitler's deathbed conversion; Adam introduces sin without any awareness of good or evil). Among the most crucial of these dogmatic syllogisms, I've always concluded a preordained messianic sacrifice means nothing. Where's the sacrifice, if Jesus knows he was born solely for that purpose, and upon his mortal death will almost immediately ascend to a reunion with God? If that's "sacrifice," let me play, too.
Scorcese directly addresses this theological dilemma. After a long and full life (fantasy? reality?), as Jesus lies dying, he realizes he betrayed both his heavenly Father and his earthly mission. Clawing his way off his deathbed and through the streets of a Jerusalem in flames, he beseeches God to allow his sacrifice, literally begging to be the Messiah. It's not a preordained gift or destiny; for Scorcese, godammit, ya gotta earn it! Once Jesus actively volunteers for his onerous assignment, redemption becomes possible.
As an armchair student of Comparative Religion, I admit a certain predilection for the subject matter. No doubt that predilection enhances my appreciation of this staggeringly profound work. But I said it before, and I'll say it again: this is the real deal.