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You can read plenty about the religious and political implications of Mel Gibson's The Passion of the Christ elsewhere on this page, and undoubtedly in virtually every other publication on the stands. But what so many commentators have forgotten and are bound to continue forgetting about this movie is that it is just that: a movie. Gibson is a Hollywood star and a Hollywood director, and his film is opening on the same level as event pictures like The Lord of the Rings and The Matrix films. As holy as he'd like The Passion to be, Gibson has not forgotten all he's learned in his decades in the movie biz: This story of Jesus' final hours is as well put-together as any studio release, and as calculated and effective in its use of cinematography, set and costume design, score, makeup and special effects. It is not, in any way, a Sunday school play.
It is, however, a powerful film that clearly conveys the agony of the death of Jesus (Jim Caviezel) and demonstrates Gibson's strong faith. The story starts with Jesus' arrest by the Pharisees, accused of blasphemy, takes him through torture, condemnation and crucifixion, and ends on the nicely hopeful note of his resurrection. The average church-goer probably knows the story by heart, so it's the execution, not the content, that Gibson brings to the table. In a way, this is crucifixion-as-popcorn-flick, since Gibson gives us a horror-movie-style Satan, hordes of extras, a fight scene and Monica Bellucci (as Mary Magdalene), last seen cavorting with a messiah of a different sort in the Matrix sequels.
For half of the film, Caviezel's performance amounts to little more than writhing and moaning as Jesus is mercilessly tortured by the Romans. Bellucci and Maia Morgenstern (as Jesus' mother, Mary) spend most of their time weeping and looking wistfully into the distance, and the Pharisees are sniveling, one-note villains worthy of spending time in Mordor. Only Hristo Shopov's Pontius Pilate has any depth, a man torn between order and morality; a movie about him probably would have been more interesting.
It's illuminating viewing this film as an atheist and movie critic. With no stake in its religious significance, I simply saw a brutal and well-crafted film, the story of a nice guy with some really bad luck. Gibson's reverence for his source material is like Peter Jackson's reverence for Tolkien: the mark of a good adaptation, nothing more. As a religious experience, The Passion of the Christ makes a damn fine movie.