Friday, March 11


I will not be going to my local movie theatre to see Mel Gibson's THE PASSION RECUT, as I don't think Mr. Gibson needs any more money and, frankly, I am mistrustful that enough of the gratuitous gore from the original ("The Passion of the Christ") has been cut to make me able to withstand it a second time, and particularly on the big screen. Indeed, I consider myself fortunate that my only viewing of his original version was in my own home on DVD, where the smaller screen presumably dampened the impact of the bloody scourging scene that went on for much too long and, like Ravel's "Bolero," increased in intensity almost geometrically as time passed. At home I could escape it; and I chose to do just that. And now I choose not to revisit it. Gibson's sensitive side -- his belated discretion -- come much too late for me.

I don't believe that a fully detailed depiction of Jesus Christ's death by crucifixion is essential to being a devout Christian and for understanding how He died for our sins. I don't need to see flesh being torn off a man's back in gruesome, telephoto-crafted, full-color detail to comprehend that the terrible torture Christ suffered and the agonizing brutality of His death by crucifixion were acts of profound love and a fulfillment of the prophecies. And by the way, and on an entirely more mundane note, I'm flabbergasted (as has been reported to me by friends and relatives who went to the movies to see the original) that anyone could sit and watch this motion picture, while munching on popcorn or a Tootsie Roll.