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King of Kings (1961) More at IMDbPro »

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Jesus: The Man, The Myth, The Model., 25 June 2006

Author: dunmore_ego from Los Angeles, California

*** This comment may contain spoilers ***

*King of Kings* is the definitive Catholic document: not really religious, not really holy, not really accurate. Just the way Catholics like it.

This movie did for Jesus what Richard Burton did for Roman accents.

Being raised in a Catholic household and inculcated to believe that my every living act should be aimed at securing a throw-pillow at the Savior's feet for my invisible, future self, *Kings* was foisted upon me every Easter. I ate it up like communion wafers and sacramental wine. (It mattered not that eating the metaphorical Body and Blood of Christ originated in cannibalism – what young Catholics didn't know wouldn't hurt them; not like older Catholics would hurt them were they to defy superstitious Catholic ritual.) Now I know better. Jesus was so popular because he was a looker.

Vindicating the hard-won fantasies of generations of Catholics who, against all evidence to the contrary, forcefully promulgated the visage of a blue-eyed savior who spoke American, director Nicholas Ray casts a supermodel as Messiah - to Catholics, Jeffrey Hunter IS Jesus. The shrew-brained capacity of Catholics was personified in my own father. I will never forget his outrage as he blared at some TV movie which portrayed a decidedly Lebanese, hook-nosed, jerry-curled Jesus: "THAT'S not what Jesus looked like!" One need only cast one's gaze to the simply cast your gaze to the framed portrait abiding over the living room, to see what Jesus *really* looked like: painfully Caucasian; long, glossy Cindy Crawford tresses and Fabio cheekbones; perfectly trimmed beard; with heart on outside of body, surrounded by crown of thorns and light blue eyes which followed you everywhere.

For Jeffrey Hunter, it's good to be the King of Kings.

As Monty Python once said, "You can't really make fun of Jesus," because he only said and did commendable things and delivered a message of social harmony that people who came after him have twisted to the shape of their own malformed minds. But – as Python concluded – "you can make fun of everything else around him." Therefore, though the Message of this movie is attuned to human survival, the silliness is in the fact that a demonstrably insane fantasy had to be erected around these teachings to impart their message (from a virgin giving birth, to a white Jesus, to corpses being reanimated, and ultimately burdening the possibly-historical Jesus figure with the mantle of divine Messiah).

Relying solely on Hunter's stunning looks, Ray forgets he needs to move the story forward with "action." Back when being a "fisher of men" had no homoerotic overtones, this soft-focus savior meanders dolefully about the desert with epic music dogging him and his merry men, all his "miracles" reported in past tense by Roman centurions, with a momentous, drawn-out Sermon on the Mount - Jesus-stock AD 33 – where Jesus smacks down The Beatitudes (That "Blessed are the cheesemakers" speech).

Robert Ryan epitomizes the lack of action with his torpid John the Baptist, probably kicking himself when Charlton Heston injected the Baptist with sheer epic cheesedom in George Stevens' *The Greatest Story Ever Told* (1965). (But then, who could ever beat out Heston for sheer epic cheesedom?) To retain the film's "family" thrust, nothing outlandishly graphic is portrayed; even with Jesus' torturing and flaying, as with any superhot model, nothing seems all that tragic when his hair still looks that good. And with his 'pits shaved for maximum boy-band effect, he even makes crucifixion look kinda sexy.

Habitually prudish adults and censors suddenly lose all sense of discretion around Jesus movies, allowing their kids (nay, forcing them) to watch what should be considered despicable, obscene, R-rated acts (thorns forced down on a man's head; nailing living flesh to a crossbeam); claiming that children could learn from the bigotry displayed by the Romans and Pharisees in persecuting a man for his beliefs – conveniently sublimating the fact that it is this same bigotry on their part which has pummeled the image of a white Jesus into dreamboat dogma.

The Romans are to Jesus movies what the Russians are to Bond movies - a shorthand for "evil incarnate," which is ironic, as Constantine I legalizing Christianity in 313 AD created the *Roman* Catholic denomination prevalent today. Modern Christians ally themselves with the downtrodden peoples on screen – the Israelites and Jews - never considering the non-stop wars they have waged on those very peoples, for the exact same reason as the Romans – challenging their Messiah's divinity! Due to every religion preaching life after death (that most moronic of oxymorons), screenwriter Philip Yordan need not even preface Jesus' "resurrection" with any exposition. Before we know it, the choir is in full swing and Jesus is back to meandering, now with whiter whites.

There's a word for people who come back from the dead: zombies.

No one in the film seems particularly horrified that their friend may have come back to life, and are too ready to proclaim him "risen" rather than "reanimated." The "grave-robbing" option is given short shrift, which speaks volumes about their Denial Factor. Nowadays, telling outright lies via the media is euphemistically called spin. Back then, it was euphemistically called gospel.

Ultimately, media like *King of Kings* is dangerous, because people use religious zeal as if the word "religious" did not apply; from what I can tell, spreading the word of Jesus means killing everyone who doesn't agree with you; tolerance means forcing your views down everyone else's throat; and loving your enemy means only when they agree with you – if not, see point number one.

That's why these same bigots cannot see the selfishness and hypocrisy inherent in the concept of scoring points on earth for the sole reason of attaining that throw-pillow at the anointed feet of Jeffrey Hunter.

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