A tale of a responsible but weary Roman Tirbune in Judea (Feinnes, as Clavius) who is ordered by Pontius Pilate (Firth) to go and make sure the Nazarene Yeshua (Curtis), who has been crucified and hanging up there for three days is dead yet. "Do him a favor. Break his legs," suggests Pilate, no unkindly. Clavius does as ordered, reluctantly because as a soldier he's already seen so much death. Clavius decides to bring on Yeshua's death more quickly by ordering a spear thrust into his side, and Yeshua promptly dies.
But all the unrest isn't over. The Hebrew council, the Sanhedrin, need to be sure their authority isn't challenged by this newcomer who is considered the Messiah, so they ask Pontius Pilate to give them the body, which they will seal in a rocky tomb under the eyes of the Romans. This is to prevent any chicanery because there is this myth going around that Yeshua will rise from the dead. Despite the two Roman guards left overnight at the tomb, whose discipline was admittedly slack, the next day the ropes have been burst from the seal, the stone rolled away, and the tomb empty.
The rest of the film has Pilate ordering Clavius to find the body. During an extensive search Clavius does, in fact, find the body -- alive and well, and still bearing the wounds incurred during its crucifixion. Not only that, but Yeshua heals a leper and brings about the miracle of the fishes. Clavius more or less converts, helps the apostles to safety but, unable to bring himself to join them in spreading the gospel, he wanders off alone and thoroughly despondent. He gives his esteemed and valuable Tribune ring to the keeper of a dilapidated inn falling apart in the desert. In the words of the old song, "one thousand miles from home, and I don't even know my name," while the apostles are off on their several treks singing Gumbaya with all the converts they're making.
The theme of the pagan warrior being converted to Christianity or at least to a belief in the risen Christ isn't a new one. See films like "The Robe" or "Ben Hur." But this one is a cut above most, partly because of the ambiance and mostly because of the intelligent script and some first-rate performances. The green-speckled rocks and dunes are almost lavender. And although the iconography is not as raw as Pasolini's "The Gospel According to St. Mathew", it's pretty rough. Everybody is dusty and sometimes caked with blood. In other words, the characters and settings look credible. Feinnes is outstanding as Clavius, who undergoes a transformation but winds up more bewildered than before. As Yeshua, Curtis has a distinctly unprepossessing appearance. He's not Jeffrey Hunter, Robert Powell, or even Max von Sydow. He looks like an ordinary Mediterranean type who, except for his ever-present smile, might not appear out of place in a police mug shot. Firth is smooth as the practical and unflappable, but understanding Pontius Pilate.
Bad stuff. Not much of it. But the music is a cliché from beginning to end, what with holy choirs, as Yeshua backs away from the apostles into a rising sun and disappears in a blaze of glory, a blaze the mature viewer might well have done without. In "Faust," the devil was modest enough to disappear in a puff of smoke.
But all the unrest isn't over. The Hebrew council, the Sanhedrin, need to be sure their authority isn't challenged by this newcomer who is considered the Messiah, so they ask Pontius Pilate to give them the body, which they will seal in a rocky tomb under the eyes of the Romans. This is to prevent any chicanery because there is this myth going around that Yeshua will rise from the dead. Despite the two Roman guards left overnight at the tomb, whose discipline was admittedly slack, the next day the ropes have been burst from the seal, the stone rolled away, and the tomb empty.
The rest of the film has Pilate ordering Clavius to find the body. During an extensive search Clavius does, in fact, find the body -- alive and well, and still bearing the wounds incurred during its crucifixion. Not only that, but Yeshua heals a leper and brings about the miracle of the fishes. Clavius more or less converts, helps the apostles to safety but, unable to bring himself to join them in spreading the gospel, he wanders off alone and thoroughly despondent. He gives his esteemed and valuable Tribune ring to the keeper of a dilapidated inn falling apart in the desert. In the words of the old song, "one thousand miles from home, and I don't even know my name," while the apostles are off on their several treks singing Gumbaya with all the converts they're making.
The theme of the pagan warrior being converted to Christianity or at least to a belief in the risen Christ isn't a new one. See films like "The Robe" or "Ben Hur." But this one is a cut above most, partly because of the ambiance and mostly because of the intelligent script and some first-rate performances. The green-speckled rocks and dunes are almost lavender. And although the iconography is not as raw as Pasolini's "The Gospel According to St. Mathew", it's pretty rough. Everybody is dusty and sometimes caked with blood. In other words, the characters and settings look credible. Feinnes is outstanding as Clavius, who undergoes a transformation but winds up more bewildered than before. As Yeshua, Curtis has a distinctly unprepossessing appearance. He's not Jeffrey Hunter, Robert Powell, or even Max von Sydow. He looks like an ordinary Mediterranean type who, except for his ever-present smile, might not appear out of place in a police mug shot. Firth is smooth as the practical and unflappable, but understanding Pontius Pilate.
Bad stuff. Not much of it. But the music is a cliché from beginning to end, what with holy choirs, as Yeshua backs away from the apostles into a rising sun and disappears in a blaze of glory, a blaze the mature viewer might well have done without. In "Faust," the devil was modest enough to disappear in a puff of smoke.