flipcritic

The film is a documentary about Mike and Claire Sardina, song revivalists famous for performing the works of Neil Diamond and Patsy Cline respectively. It shows this loving couple and their passion for music and performing. We see the tragedies that befall Mike and Claire's family in ways only life can supply. We see them at their most irresponsible, their most fragile, their bravest, and their best. Does the film have a happy ending? Does any life have a happy ending? All that is to be said is that they lived life on their terms for good or bad. Whether they triumphed or not is up for debate. What is undeniable is that they persevered.

In my adolescence, I once thought that THE TRANSFORMERS: THE MOVIE (1986) was one of the best films ever made. Age and access had not yet tinged my movie-going experience. Such is youth, forever sentimentalizing our early lives and its subjects. Many of us who grew up on these Hasbro heroes still hold them in reverie, regardless of the profound silliness of it all. But we've all been young, and boys will be boys in love with their toys.

For followers of the series, how much you love Michael Bay's TRANSFORMERS will depend on how much you have grown up (and probably how many decibels your eardrums can take). It seems natural that many of us who collected toy autobots and decepticons might have had great interest in the fields of science, as the mechanics of how these robots transform required inquiry during our younger years. So if you're like me, watching this movie may not only reveal an on screen battle between good and evil, but also one's own personal battle between nostalgia and common sense.

I know that I shouldn't be applying logic against a concept that was never meant to be logical. Optimus Prime, Megatron and their ilk were not meant to be opposing leaders of a mechanical alien race set against a space epic. They're cool toys representing the fanciful idea of having normal everyday vehicles transform into humanoid mechas. That's killing two birds with one stone in toy marketing.

The problem is that the level of detail and seriousness the film initially builds up begs us to consider its plausibility. The movie's opening sequence of where a decepticon infiltrates a US military base (apparently in the Middle East) is well-executed and as convincing as can be. Explanations on how these mechas are able to speak English are humorous but (barely) believable. And the initial electronic strategies the decepticons use to hamper US defense systems make sense.

But when the deeper questions are asked, the house of cards falls apart. These robots transform to blend into earth's general populace, but why did they ever need to transform in the first place? Was there an evolutionary advantage that morphing gave them on their home world or are they just God's toys? Why do they speak to communicate as they are electronic beings? If they can reach the earth through space, why do they travel slowly as grounded transport? Couldn't they all have chosen aircraft functions to replicate? And why in one inexplicable scene are they reduced to comedic stooges hiding from a kid's parents in his backyard? Surely these and other queries are supposed to be ignored, but my inquisitive side keeps on tugging on my id. If your inner child wins out however, there are worthy sights to behold. The transformers themselves have been bravely redesigned, which is refreshingly the correct choice as opposed to keeping their original forms. Though some characters from the cartoon series will be familiar, the vehicular alter-egos have been totally revamped to fit current tastes (and toy franchising needs). Mecha battles engaged in Los Angeles are at times breathtaking, none more than Starscream's low-flying dogfighting maneuvers. Fans will likely warm to some in-jokes (a decepticon police car motto), a jab at "My Little Pony" (a fellow Hasbro franchise), and surely, hearing Peter Cullen's voicing of Prime.

Speaking of which, this gloriously authoritative father-figure lacks presence and warmth. Animated characters by their very nature more stylized and symbolic; highlighting their traits to an almost elemental level. How ironic that Optimus Prime in all his CGI glory projects less heroism and gravitas than his hand-drawn version. Perhaps it is our youth that taints our view, plus the all-to realistic detail of the film's special effects makes him look more of a machine and less of a hero (or maybe it's because now we can see his mouth move?). Shia LaBeouf, as the young Sam Witwicky who stumbles onto the robotic conflict, is the only well-rounded character worth following. He keeps it interesting, but can only do so much.

From a cinematic view, Michael Bay was born to direct this movie. He just loves toys, as not one of his films to date has had an unexploded vehicle. In filming convincing human dynamics however, he hasn't got a clue, as evidenced in one scene where he tries miserably and awkwardly in getting us to feel bad for an autobot's capture. His methods have deteriorated as he irritatingly refuses to stop using shaky camera movements during conflict, and dozens of slow motion sequences, mistaking disorientation and distraction for a frenzied perspective. For the life of me, I don't understand why he cannot just let the action speak for itself.

As you can see, I've grown up a bit too far from my guilelessness to enjoy TRANSFORMERS. I do not disdain this kind of entertainment. Truth be told, its writing is better than I thought it would be, but its fancy façade can't hide its flaws for those who want more substance. I find Prime deserving of better treatment, but considering its source, this might be as good as it gets. So enjoy it if you can. I tried and couldn't.

Today's gospel reading allowed me to fully realize the sweeping power of Mel Gibson's THE PASSION OF THE CHRIST. As I listened at mass of Christ's trial at the hands of Pontius Pilate, it came across to me as a banal rerun, with its uninspired narration, its hokey delivery, and its laughable choreography (`Crucify him! Crucify him!'). How odd that I never took serious notice of this before. Though I'm sure that the Catholic Church and its orators have good intentions in retelling this story, it still tires itself out due to its familiarity and our complacency.

Ever since I was indoctrinated into the teachings of the Rosary's Sorrowful and Glorious mysteries, their events had always remained distant and somewhat legendary. Not so much in the sense that they were larger than life, but that they seemed unrealistic. It was nice to know that Jesus was the Son of God, that he healed the sick, forgave those who sinned, and came gloriously back to life after much persecution.

But this was a Jesus that my schooling shaped as a perfect person: a man without sin. Christianity teaches that he was both God and man, and that he could be both at once is its central mystery. But to have human quality, he would have had the gift of free will, which would have burdened him with temptation and weakness. The Jesus I knew never once showed this quality, which made him remote to me. We were often told that if Jesus could go without falling to enticements, so could we.

Yet how could I aspire to follow his works if I could not relate to his faultlessness? How much risk and dread was there in his crucifixion since he had predicted his own demise along with his triumphant return? I have seen countless movies and passion plays depicting him as a calm man in the face of certain death, almost impassive to his scourging, sound on the cross, and mostly expressionless in his manner. Where was the humanity that he embodied? The empathy? The sacrifice?

I do not consider myself a devout Catholic. I don't believe in religion, but I do in God. I don't think Jesus is a being of the Holy Trinity, but I do feel he has a touch of divinity, for no man in his right mind (in Jesus's time) would have done the things he did unless he had a say from the big guy upstairs. I have been an altar boy, a communion server, and gospel reader at some point in my life, but I have learned to question my beliefs and now see religious conviction as a dividing force, as opposed to a unifying one. I don't go to Church because I abide by its rules, but because it's the only way I know how to express my immense gratitude to God for the blessings he has given me (it's also my way of showing my devotion to my family).

Now with that out of the way, I can wholeheartedly say that THE PASSION OF THE CHRIST, for the first time in my life, made me realize the enormity of Jesus's sacrifice and the poignancy of his tenets. This is not the first film that dwells on Jesus's humanity, (Martin Scorcese's THE LAST TEMPTATION OF CHRIST is a great film that focuses on that subject), but it is the first I have seen that gives intuitive and truthful feeling on Christ's passion and death. Other films I have seen on the subject seem more like proselytizing instruments than honest reflections; with their depictions of Jesus's milieu looking more like holy Church cards as opposed to the impoverished Middle-Eastern territory that it was. It is has an incredible power to move those who know what Jesus is all about (for those who don't, it might be difficult to sit through), and it inspired in me such deep sense of grief, realization, and admiration. No film has done that for me since GRAVE OF THE FIREFLIES and SCHINDLER'S LIST.

One factor that contributes to the film's effectiveness is Mr. Gibson's desire for authenticity. I say desire because no version of Christ's dying days can be called `factual' (no movie is factual, not even the best documentaries), so any critic citing historical errors is beating a dead horse. His use of Aramaic may be historically inaccurate, but does it heighten the feeling of actually being there? You bet.

It's not just the ambitious production sets, language use, costume designs, and effects (both makeup and special), all of which are labors of love. But it's also in the interpretation of well-known biblical dialogue and occurrences. Remember that much of the discourse that goes on the New Testament is oratory, sounding like a play (another reason why its stories seem legendary). In THE PASSION, many conversations have been fashioned to fit its more sensible approach, in order to see how people might have actually acted and conversed in Jesus's context.

One glaring example is the way it brings to life Mary's relationship with Jesus. In a warm scene where Jesus crafts a table, Mary asks him whom is it for. Jesus answers with a light-hearted wisecrack that puckers Mary's brow. That's when I realized that this movie is special, since Mary and Jesus are given a screen relationship that any mother and son can relate to. Not as divine beings destined for greatness, but as good souls in the midst of a great upheaval. Other conversations in the film observe the same genuineness found here, without major speechifying.

In accord with this more levelheaded approach is the film's violence, which is unparalleled even for an action movie. Roger Ebert of the Chicago Sun Times, who praises the film, still observes, `This is the most violent movie I have ever seen.' Since he's been reviewing movies for more than a quarter-century now, that's quite a statement. It does not contain the amount of limb-flying, splatterhouse gore that you can find say in KILL BILL, but the personal violence that it shows perpetrated against Jesus will make you look away. From his scourging at the pillar, right up to when he is brought down from his cross, the maiming committed against him in this film is grotesque, but it serves a purpose.

That purpose of course is to highlight Christ's humanity and suffering (words that many Christians meet with rolling eyes). This is not the Jesus in white swathes with a glowing halo and a burning heart. This is a simple decent man who was poor and who lived in a poor country. Even if you do not subscribe to his philosophy, the movie, at the very least, evokes sympathy for this man who clearly does not deserve the mutilation and death he is resigned to. How could I hold back my tears as I saw Mary see her son undergo such arduous torture? How could I not cry in agony as they forced him to carry an overbearing cross after massive blood loss? How could I not grieve after hearing his simple humane teachings before seeing him nailed to the cross?

Many people will argue whether the amount of bloodshed in this movie is justified. I found it strangely necessary. The bar of film violence has been raised so high in the passed two decades that it is hard for audiences these days to grasp how sadistic Christ's death really was. How can one vouch for its brutality? To apply 20th century mores to those who lived 20 centuries ago would be silly, so how vengeance was applied back then could be a hell of a lot more cruel that we could possibly fathom. In any case, James Caviezel's performance in allowing such cruelty to come to life is amazing. Not only does he convey intense suffering, he also effortlessly suggests warmth and gentleness without seeming saintly in the film's several flashbacks.

I remember watching viewer reactions on the news right after the film's opening day. One priest summed it up best for me: `A lot of people think the movie is too cruel. But the world's a cruel place.' Many critics have accused THE PASSION OF THE CHRIST of having a massive amount of violence that is self-defeating, but I believe there's a method to Mel's madness. Buried in an avalanche of torturous sequences is Jesus's tender wisdom, which is stronger than any tear of the flesh. Mr. Gibson magnifies these principles of love through images of hate with great skill and heartbreaking ardor. The film challenges us: can we love one another in the face of such hatred? For those who believe in Jesus, the answer resounds loudly.

Note: I have read many reactions claiming THE PASSION is anti-Semitic. All I can say is that for every hateful stereotype of Jew you can find here, there are more than a few depicted as ordinary decent people. You have Caiphas as the lead Jewish elder who wants Jesus dead, along with several mean-looking grumpy men. But there were other Jewish elders who were shown as appalled at the unjust hearings Jesus's had been forced to attend. You have an angry mob, but you also have throngs crying for mercy. You have Simon who helps Jesus carry his cross, the woman who wipes Jesus face. Besides. Yes, Jesus was killed, but he never resisted, even when he was given several opportunities to do so, because he knew his death was his purpose, in order to wash away our sins. The Jews didn't kill Jesus, we all did.