Jesús, Nuestro Señor (1971)

Probably an entire book could be written about Jesus films from Mexico. The country's Catholic roots and relative poverty have meant their gospel adaptations have held a distinctly different flavour from the excess and Protestantism of their North American counterparts. Jesús de Nazareth (1942), María Magdalena (1946),  El Mártir del Calvario (1952) and El Processo de Cristo (1965) all have their distinctions, but it's perhaps the 1971 film Jesús, Nuestro Señor (Jesus Our Lord) that is of most interest today.

A good deal of that is due to the choice of Claudio Brook as Jesus. Brook made his name in a string of films withLuis Buñuel. He had what many consider the title role in The Exterminating Angel (1962) and the lead role as something of a Christ figure in Simon del Deserto (Simon of the Desert,1965). Four years later, Buñuel had left Mexico, and Brook joined him in Europe to work on La Voie Lactée (The Milky Way), to many the director's most strongly anti-religious work. Whilst that time the Jesus role went to Bernard Verley, Brook played a bishop.

Whilst Jesús, Nuestro Señor is a far more reverential work than Simon and La Voie Lactée (it still contains a couple of sequences which, if not quite as surreal as Buñuel's work, certainly seems unusual compared to most English language Jesus films.

Two moments catch the eye in particular. When John the Baptist is executed, his head is brought on and laid before Herod with it's eyes open. Herod tries to evade it's stare. Eventually he even gets off his throne to walk out of the head's direct gaze, only to find it rotates slightly in order to follow him pacing increasingly anxiously back and forth.

The other is one of those parts of the Bible that is usually considered a bit too much like something from a horror movie to be included in most Jesus films. According to Matthew 27:52-53, at the moment of Jesus' death, the tombs were opened and the saints came back to life. The metaphor sits rather awkwardly  alongside an earthquake and the tearing of the temple curtain as if wanting to drop a hint about the resurrection without giving it away. Here Jesus has already raised Lazarus, Jairus' daughter and the Widow of Nain's son, and the newly raised bodies arise in similar fashion, and start walking about, still bound in their grave-clothes.

But the differences between Nuestro Señor and Hollywood offerings from the same period go far deeper than just these odd moments. There's clearly a gulf in budgets, which leads to the occasional ill-fitting beard and significantly smaller crowd scenes. This has a particular difference in the trial scene in Pilate's house. Their smaller numbers, and the way they are vociferously lead by the priests, belie any idea that this crowd is in someway representative of the Jewish nation as a whole. The space is crowded, but it's really only a handful of people who are in league with the establishment. Later the priests cruelly laugh at Jesus even after he's been flogged. Some will find that more troubling; others will see such a reaction to the suffering of one of their countryman as further evidence of their detachment from their people.

There's also some interesting use of the camera, including the type of shots that mainstream Hollywood might have considered itself above. Occasionally the films zooms into a scene and then out again before focusing elsewhere. The shots draw attention to themselves, not least because they zoom in quickly, and sometimes unevenly, resisting moving at a dignified pace. There are also shots from low angles (see above), emphasising Jesus' power and various interesting high shots, including the "God shot" that captures that begins the dance of the seven veils.

Comparing and contrasting the film's visuals and colour palette with its American rivals is also an interesting exercise. There are marked differences from the brightly coloured clothing the characters wear, through to the school play style costume an angel wears in for a shot of the nativity. Yet at the same time there are visual similarities such as the contrast of deep blue skies and Jesus' bright red robes, so reminiscent of King of Kings (1961). The Greatest Story Ever Told (1965) began focusing on an invented fresco of Max von Sydow as Jesus.

In contrast, Nuestro Señor starts with a series of famous paintings based on the life of Jesus, such as Filippo Lippi's "Adoration Of The Child" and El Greco's "Disrobing of Christ". Comparing the DVD and YouTube versions of these images to the originals, it's immediately obvious that the colours are now muted down to a sepia hue. It's unclear, though, to what the extent this is due to the quality of the print and the extent to which it's a choice by the filmmakers to make contrasting images more visually similar. In any case the bright, and by modern standards gaudy, colours that are prominent throughout the rest of the film, also recall various High Renaissance era paintings by Raphael and Michelangelo.

The differences between this film and the classic Hollywood style also extend to its sound. The film's main theme, whilst still essentially orchestral, seems to lean more heavily on brass instruments, but adds in a number of less familiar instruments. We also hear the voice of Jesus inside the heads of those accusing the woman caught in adultery. This is an interesting development allowing the audience to experience different perspectives on Jesus in a short space of time. The use of these different perspectives would find a fuller experience a couple of years later with Jesus Christ, Superstar (1973). The film's aesthetics, then, are not wrong, or inferior, though they are limited by budget: they are just different from the more stately approach of the classic Hollywood epic. It makes for an interesting contrast.

It's notable, too, the prominence the film gives to woman. In particular Mary, whom Jesus has a lengthy conversation with early on, practically the film's only invented scene. But also a wealthy looking Mary Magdalene; Herodias and her daughter; the widow of Nain; the woman caught in adultery; Pontius Pilate's wife Jairus' daughter; and Mary and Martha are given significant screen time. Because the film pieces together a series of scenes from the gospels, with relatively little embellishment, in a manner reminiscent of early silent Jesus films. The selection of scenes, then, speaks volumes, and it's notable that scenes featuring women, and those raised from the dead are particularly prominent.

Brook carried on working until his death in 1995, mainly featuring in Mexican productions, though a role in Licence to Kill (1989) was a notable exception. His work on Cronos (1993) with Guillermo del Toro, means he is probably the only actor to have starred in films by both of Mexican cinema's leading lights. For his part, the director of Nuestro Señor's, Miguel Zacarías, went on to release a further two films based on the Gospels:  Jesús, el niño Dios (Jesus the Child of God), was released in the run up to Christmas that same year with its sequel Jesús, María y José (Jesus, Mary and Joseph, 1972) arriving in cinemas just a few months later.

The Young One (1960)

I've been watching quite a bit of Luis Buñuel recently and just finished watching The Young One (1960). Without giving too much away a significant part of the plot hangs on the presence of a priest, which is noteworthy for two reasons.

Firstly because Buñuel is so often seen as anti-clerical, but here, whilst not handling things exactly as we in the 21st century would perhaps hope, the priest is still a somewhat heroic figure, who achieves some good by risking at least his own reputation and perhaps even his life. There are odd and perhaps feeble aspects to him as well, but they serve to make him more human and realistic, rather than despicable. I'm reminded of the way that so many see Buñuel's critique of the priesthood/idealised religion as solely negative but here, this is a primarily positive impact. This rather bolsters my position on Nazarin (1959) which is that Nazarin is a three-dimensional impression of a religious leader - albeit a very flawed one.

The other pint of interest here is that the actor playing the priest is none other than Claudio Brook who also starred in Exterminating Angel (1962) and Simón del desierto [Simon of the Desert] (1965) for Buñuel and then as Jesus in the Mexican Jesus film Jesús, nuestro Señor (1969). Simón del desierto is next in my next destination for my Buñuel journey and I really must get around to seeing (and reviewing) Jesús, nuestro Señor sometime soon.

Nazarin (1959)

Luis Buñuel is one of a small group of directors whose work started in the silent era and ran way into the 1970s. As a big fan of another member of that exclusive club - Alfred Hitchcock - it’s tempting to get drawn into comparisons between the two, not least because spiritual issues in general and their Jesuit Catholic educations in particular, were major influences on their work.

I suspect that the attitudes to both men to questions of faith varied throughout their long careers. Certainly the harsh critique of religion in Buñuel’s La Voie lactée (The Milky Way), where religion is a monstrous edifice built of false foundations, is in stark contrast to Nazarin where Buñuel finds sympathy for his religiously motivated lead, even if he implies that such a lost cause is an indication of the absence of God.

It’s an unusual premise. Priests in movies tend towards one of two positions depending on the filmmakers’ prior beliefs: good priests whose example and ministry hint at the possibility of a good and gracious God; or bad priests whose sins typify the absence of God and, for the filmmaker at least, the murky motivations of many of those who have gained from abusing their position.

Here however Buñuel presents us with a priest who distils the very best of all those movie priests but uses his ineffectiveness and naiveté to question the existence of God. In part it’s an inversion of the Job story, whereby despite God’s servant living exactly as he ought to, he ends up downtrodden and cursed, repeatedly causing harm not only to himself, but also those around him. There’s no upbeat ending however and ultimately it’s God, rather than his servant, that ends up in the dock.

Yet it’s also a subversion of the example of Christ. Father Nazario is the very epitome of someone following in the footsteps of Jesus. He protects and attempts to reform the prostitute Andara; he frequently gives all his money away; he takes upa job only to leave it when he realises his appointment means others might go without; and he continues to preach the gospel to anyone that will listen. He even resists being called upon to miraculously heal a feverish girl, prays anyway, and then denies responsibility when she is healed.

Yet, that incident aisde, instead of a successful ministry Nazario finds only failure and rejection. Indeed Buñuel even strips him of his chance to be a martyr. He’s imprisoned by the authorities, bound and due to March to court, but then at the last minute separated from the other prisonners and allowed to travel unfettered and accompanied by a guard out of uniform. Whilst Nazario is not exactly free, he is no longer fearing for his life. Indeed this is one of the few Christ-figure films that neither ends with the death of the protagonist, nor even photographs them in a cruciform pose.

He does however manage to incur the wrath of the political and religious authorities. The church is scandalised by his relationship with the two women who accompany him, Beatriz and Andara. Andara is a former prostitute, Beatriz has psychotic episodes - including one where she imagines a picture of Jesus coming to life and mocking her - but both become devoted to Father Nazario and follow him everywhere..

However, much to his annoyance, the source of their devotion is not his teaching, despite his frequent chastisement, indeed ultimately Beatriz returns to her abusive lover Pinto. In the final scene she is shown falling asleep on his shoulder as they ride past a bedraggled Father Nazario en route as he walks the long road to face the authorities.

I say “authorities”, but by this stage the religious authorities have long made up their minds. Even at the start of the film he is considered something of a loose cannon, operating without a parish, By the end they consider him “reckless”, a “rebel spirit” affected by “madness”. Many parts of the film are damning of the church, but none more so that the penultimate scene where one of the bishop’s representatives tells him that “your habits contradict those of priests. Your ways confront the church which you claim to love and obey.”

What’s interesting about the film is where it finishes, further along the road to judgement Nazrio is given a pineapple by a fruit seller. DIfferent writers have interpreted this in different ways. Some see it as symbolic of the crown of thorns, others as suggestive of a handgrenade and still others as a nod to the fruit of the tree of good and evil from the Garden of Eden. At first Nazrio rejects it, but then he changed his mind and acepts the women’s charity, walking on with a troubled, although rather ambiguous look on his face. Has he realised for the first time that he is a human who needs others as much as they need him? Or is this his realisation of the absence of God.

Either way, ending at this point reminds me of how the ministry of Jesus must have looked like at this point. Despised and rejected, imprisoned by corrupt political authorities after the religious authorities have washed their hands of him. Rumours of him healing people in the past pale into insignificance the numbers of those who cheered him have dwindled away to just a prostitute and a mad woman. And even then they can’t stay awake at the crucial moment.

Christianity, of course, centres on the notion that this was not the end of the story. But for a while, at least, things must have seemed as bleak as they do at the end of Nazarin.

La Voie Lactée (The Milky Way - 1969)

One of the things that's interesting about Bible films is the way that controversy often rages around one film, but leaves other, equally controversial, films largely untouched. Compare, for example, the differing responses to Last Temptation of Christ and Jesus of Montreal. Scorsese's film provoked uproar - in France some cinemas were even fire-bombed - yet Arcand's film, released barely a year later, somehow passed below the radar, even though it's view of Jesus is far less orthodox than Last Temptation.

In a similar way, Buñuel's 1969 film La Voie Lactée (The Milky Way) largely avoided controversy despite the director's catalogue of films criticising Catholicism. The director himself was deeply ambivalent about Christianity. Nine years before he made this film he had delivered his famous quip "I am still, thank God, an atheist", but 8 years later (in 1977) he denied his atheism claiming to be "weary" of his "old aphorism".¹. So this film appeared almost exactly half way between those two quotes - and it really shows.

Whilst the subject matter of the entire film is Catholicism, much of it is to do with how that faith has been worked in the 2000 years since Jesus, and, in particular, how different heresies the church has faced have been handled. But this film is different from Buñuel's other films in that it actually contains scenes from, or from around the Gospels.

In many respects the film has much in common with the later Monty Python's Life of Brian. Not only are both films the product of well read, if irreverent artists, but they use humour as their primary tool, and incorporate short sections of the gospels into a more extensive filmic collage. Furthermore, fans of the Python films in general will feel instantly at home in Buñuel's surrealism, replete with its jumbled time lines and improbably articulate discussions, and the film's use of a quest to bond together various episodes in the loosest possible manner.

The film follows the bizarre journey of two particularly impious pilgrims as they journey to Santiago. As their journey unfolds they inhabit the same space as numerous characters from through the ages who are, in some way, related to Catholicism. Some are modern day figures discussing Catholic doctrines. Others are more historical figures related to Catholicism in some way. At times these connections are somewhat obscure such as the appearance of the Marquis de Sade. Sometimes the pilgrims interact with the characters they encounter, at other times they simply happen to be in the same place at the same time.

Their first two encounters are both based on the bible. As they walk along a road they meet a man who they ask for alms. Learning that the younger of the two travellers has no money, the stranger refuses to give him anything, yet when the older man admits he already has some money, he receives a wad of notes. This strange encounter ends with the man commanding them to "go and find a harlot, and have children by her. Name the first, 'You Are Not My People', and the second, 'No More Mercy'". To the uninitiated this dialogue may seem fairly meaningless, but it is recontextualisation of two passages from the Bible - Jesus's conclusion to the Parable of the Talents (Matt 25:29 & Luke 19:26) and God's instructions to Hosea (Hosea 1).

As they part ways, the pilgrims observe a smaller figure alongside the stranger (that they had not previously noticed), and a dove flies alongside - completing the Trinity. Somewhat confused, they conclude the stranger favoured the older man because of his beard. This leads to an amusing flashback to the 1st century where Mary persuades Jesus not to shave off his beard.

Also present in this scene is a young boy who the pilgrims are just about meet. The pilgrims are concerned by the state the boy is in - he has marks in his hands and in his side - but they move on before they realise who he really is.

There follows a series of brief vignettes as the pilgrims encounter an eloquent priest who turns out to be mad, a group of early gnostic Christians and find only an ambiguous answer to their test of God's existence. The next scene revolves around a number of waiters who are discussing theology, philiosophy and various heretical beliefs. Their discussion is intercut with a scene of the Marquis de Sade and another featuring Jesus. Jesus runs to greet his disciples - they are late for the Wedding at Cana where Jesus tells the Parable of the Shrewd Steward. Tantalisingly the scene ends as soon as Jesus gives the command to fill the water jugs and serve the wine. We are not shown whether or not the miracle actually occurs. I find the start of this segment particularly memorable. There's something fresh and exciting about the way Jesus enters the scene running - even if it is because he is late.

Back on the road the strange encounters continue: a school speech day with a variety of dogma drenched "poetry" that is so unusual it leads one of the characters to imagine the pope in front of a firing squad; a scene from the Spanish Inquisition; an inhabitant of purgatory; a duel between a Jansenist and a Jesuit; and some reformers who have a vision of the Virgin Mary.

When they finally arrive in Santiago they are greeted by a whore who takes them into the woods for a "frolic in the grass" and then repeats the command from the strange man at the start of the film. She is the one who is to bear the children named 'You Are Not My People' and 'No More Mercy'.

This leads to the film's final scene which is again of Jesus and the disciples, who appear in the same woods as the pilgrims, the whore and two blind men. Initially Jesus appears to heal the blind men, but as they stroll off towards Jesus's showdown in Jerusalem the camera focuses on a ditch. Whilst Jesus and his apostles negotiate it with ease, his two newest followers still seem to be relying on their sticks to help them to cross the gap. That said, although that's the most obvious reading it's not quite as clear cut as many would have you believe. For a start we see only the character's feet - their actual identity is assumed rather than a certainty. Furthermore, one of the two blind men recites the line about seeing "men as trees walking" which combined with Jesus's use of saliva to heal the men, indicates that it is Mark 8:25-28 which is being portrayed. Crucially, the men in the text are not properly healed until Jesus lays his hands on them a second time, and as the film ends abruptly at this point, the possibility remains that the completion of this miracle lies beyond the end of the film.

So whilst there's a scepticism about Christianity and its founder in the film this is not an out and out attack on the man from Nazareth. Indeed Buñuel could easily have included even more difficult passages from the scriptures such as the incident with the Syrophoenician Woman in Mark 7:25-30. It's unclear whether the film's ambiguity in this respect is a reflection of Buñuel's own uncertainty or his concern over how a more negative portrayal would be received by either the censor or the general populace. Indeed the film is far more damning regarding it's more specifically Catholic concerns than about Jesus himself.

Whilst this is, then, not a particularly uplifting film, it does provide fresh insights into several biblical texts by placing them in new contexts. And whilst it's certainly sceptical about Christianity, the fact that it's been written by people who know their Catholicism inside out, and are not afraid to make a film that is inaccessible to those do not, means the film at least deserves some respect even if ultimately we disagree with its, somewhat tenuous, conclusions.

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Those interested in this film might also like to read the write-ups by Doug Cummings, and Alan Dale. You can also read the script and view a huge number of images at american-buddha.com

1 - Cited in Wikipedia article on Luis Buñuel.

Criterion Release Buñuel's The Milky Way (La Voie Lactée)

Luis Buñuel's controversial religious film The Milky Way (La Voie Lactée) is finally coming to DVD in it's own right, and the good news for fans is that it will be given the Criterion Collecction treatment. Previously the film has only been available to view as part of the Luis Buñuel Box Set. DVD Beaver a good selection of screen grabs from that release.

The Criterion Collection DVDs tend to be a bit special and this film is no exception not only featuring a new, restored high-definition digital transfer, and an improved subtitle translation, but a host of extras including an introduction by screenwriter Jean-Claude Carrière, a video interview with film scholar Ian Christie, the documentary Luis Bunuel: Atheist Thanks to God the original theatrical trailer and a booklet of essays.

I'm due to see the film for the first time before the DVD release on the 21st August, so I'll reserve my comments until then. Meanwhile there's a brief synopsis for this film which was also discussed both in Campbell and Pitts' "The Bible on Film" and Kinnard and Davis's "Divine Images".

The Milky Way (La voie lactee) daringly deconstructs contemporary and traditional views on Catholicism with ribald, rambunctious surreality. Two French beggars, present-day pilgrims en route to Spain's holy city of Santiago de Compostela, serve as Bunuel's narrators for an anticlerical history of heresy, told with absurdity and filled with images that rank among Bunuel's most memorable (stigmatic children, crucified nuns) and hilarious (Jesus considering a good shave). A diabolically entertaining look at the mysteries of fanaticism, The Milky Way remains a hotly debated work from cinema's greatest skeptic.

One piece of Jesus Film trivia associated with this film is that Claudio Brook (who plays the bishop in The Milky Way), also played Jesus in the Mexican Jesus Film Jesús, Nuestro Señor which was released at about the same time (and which I'm also due to release shortly.