6:16 a.m. - Thursday, Feb. 26, 2004
Jesus Gets a Beating & Ms Leslie almost does too.
We arrived an hour early for the movie. Ann was still rushing me as we invested in popcorn and four dollar Cokes. I didn�t see the problem, until we rounded the carpeted corner of the Cineplex concourse.

I was there purely for the popcorn with the fake butter. Oh, and to patronize Ann, who was desperately obsessed to see this movie about Jesus. I was dimly aware of the controversy that swirled around the production, but I had no idea of its depth as I hugged my bag of cholesterol and sauntered down the hallway. Then I saw the line. There, in front of the very door through which I wished to pass, was a crowd of fresh-faced, crisply laundered Christians, just waiting patiently to get in. I don�t� normally mind Christians, as they seem to be pretty much past minding me, but in this case, the plain soap crowd extended down the far hall and around the corner�. And around the corner after that one too. In fact, by the time we found the end of the line, we were standing next to the exit doors. Ann had not a hint of appreciation for my comment that if we�d been five minutes later we would have to stand outside the door. She just ignored me and pushed her own bag of heart attack into my arms and went to find the restroom. So I made the same comment to the new Christian who joined the line behind me. He laughed at it, and so I decided he was a good one. So did the members of his entire congregation, as they arrived, seemingly all at once and rushed up to hug him and apologize for being this late before finding the end of the line which now had doubled back and was building back down the hall towards the theater entrance.

At one point, the Cineplex manager appeared. Or maybe it was one of his disciples. Anyway, he got the all white crowd to shush a bit and then explained that the screening was sold out, but that didn�t mean they had sold every seat. I wondered what they would call it if they did sell every seat and then decided at that moment that I didn�t trust him. He pleaded with us not to leave any empty seats between us and then reassured us that we would be seated just any minute. Everyone looked at him for a moment, as they might look at a bad poet on a corner by a mailbox in Seattle; Slightly interesting, for an instant, but no real entertainment value. Then they just picked up the individual chatter where it had been interrupted.

Eventually the line did begin to move. We had to have our ticket stubs ready for inspection as we entered the theater. Apparently some Christians are not above buying a ticket to see Scooby-Doo and then trying to insert themselves in the Christ movie instead. Scooby-Doo was the one movie I would not have traded my ticket to Jesus to see. Once inside the theater, there was no time, as Ann wanted, to stand and make a reasoned choice in our seating arrangements. We had only time to race for the nearest empty seats, near, but not too near the front. BY the time I had my jacket off and my butt down, the theater was full. The last few unfortunates were left searching in vain for even one of those unsold seats the slicked back manager had told us about. Then began the long, long sequence of previews. I was grateful I had opted for the large bag this day.

The movie itself was frankly unremarkable. Jesus marched through the well-known steps of his passion. It was, as far as I could tell, pretty much the way it was detailed in the bible. Mel Gibson did his level best to make it realistic. He threw in lots of dirt and smoke, and kept the clothing and colors authentic. His only excess was the amount of fake blood he used. I think the tab for red Jello must have been in the high five figures. He used most of it in the scourging scene. That one scene, I can tell you, was not realistic at all. Unless he cheated and used his God-like powers, Jesus would not have felt any of the blows he received after the first few. Compare the canings performed in Singapore. There, the criminal often passes out from the agony of the first blow. The overseers then must stop the caning and revive the convict so he can receive a subsequent blow. One strategy for remaining conscious is that used by people who use pain for play. It�s called warming up and it involves preparing the victim with a number of lighter blows and slowly building in intensity as the endorphin levels in the blood rise. With proper warming up, a person can endure some very extreme punishments. If Jesus was not made to pass out from the initial pain, then he would have �warmed up� too, until the most damaging blows were not nearly as painful as they otherwise should have been.

Still, it was obvious that the Roman soldiers played hard. Intentional bruising and intentional breaking of the skin are two of my hard limits. I was convinced Jesus wasn�t having any fun.

The real fun was watching the Christians watching the movie. They were at first sickened by the whipping and then devastated by the bloody trail Jesus was forced to etch with his cross all the way to Golgotha. I looked around me. Every female nose and a good number of male ones, I swear, was hidden behind a white wad of Kleenex or a greasy napkin. The snuffles and sobs threatened to drown out the movie. I�m not sure everyone was ready for this carnage.

By the time he commended his spirit unto his father, I was more than ready to go home. Ann was crying, as she very rarely does, and she got angry with me for laughing. OK, I shouldn�t have laughed, but I couldn�t help myself. And the more I tried to stop, the harder I laughed. The only thing that really held me back from a huge belly laugh was the image of Rodney King at the hands of the L.A. Police Department. That image helped remind me that I was laughing in the midst of some very emotionally aroused Christians. Clearly, I could be in danger of finding out firsthand just how much beating a human body can take before passing out.

The ride home was quiet. The popcorn made me sick. Ann was pissed off. I was out eleven dollars; the price of a bargain matinee.

Would I go see it again? I don�t think so.

It�s not worthy of all the fuss everyone is making over it.

Happy Thoughts, Deep Breaths,

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