Quebecor Denys Arcand got the idea for
this film during auditions for his Decline of the American Empire
(1986), when he met an actor who, along with the usual TV commercial work,
was playing Jesus in a passion play. Jesus of Montreal features a
small theatrical troupe who are asked to "freshen up" a traditional Passion
Play held annually at a local shrine. As in Kazantzakis's The Greek
Passion, the Gospel story blurs into their daily lives, as the actors
become echoes of the characters they play. Their leader, Daniel, gathers
them like disciples: Constance, serving in a soup kitchen; Martin, doing
overdubs for a porn film (in a hilariously ribald scene where he ends up
playing two parts in a group sex dialog); Réne, who narrates the history of
the cosmos for a documentary; and the beautiful Mireille, who has been doing
sleazy TV commercials. The troupe forms a little community that recalls
1960s Gospels, not only Jesus Christ
Superstar or Godspell, but Hair, a band of radicals
rejecting the world in favor of a higher vision, reminding us why those
so-minded are always drawn to the Jesus story. Mind you, the correspondence
with the original is not one-to-one here: Constance is Mary Magdelene, but
more in life than the play: fact and fiction overlap loosely to form a sort
of dreamscape in which the whole Gospel, not just the Passion, are
expressed.
Mireille is associated with the Virgin Mary, first by a jerk ex-boyfriend
director who jeers her when she leaves him and her day job prostituting her
body to sell products. Most poignantly, she finds a reborn purity in the new
community. The turning point comes when Daniel accompanies to her an
audition for another sleazy beer commercial directed by her ex, who insists
she bare her breasts for the clients. She's wearily willing, but Daniel
bolts forward and angrily flips over the tables, TV monitors and cameras
one of the the most heart-felt "clearing of the temple" scene you'll
find in any Jesus movie. (Of course, director Arcand feels obligated to give
the audience a peek at the actress's breast, so it could be argued that this
film takes its place with Cecil B. DeMille in
moralizing Gospel films that try to have it both ways.)
Lothaire Bluteau, playing Daniel/Jesus, like most screen Christs, has
incredibly striking eyes not the usual, feminine mystical, but hard
and serious, an otherworldly gravity, that even when he's smiling and
laughing, comes across as either infinite patience and acceptance or piercing
judgment. Director Arcand maintains a piercing judgment for the Catholic
Church, which he grew up in and later rejected. The Pharisee and hypocrite
in this story is Father LeClerc, the Priest in charge of the shrine. The
conflict climaxes along with the Passion when the troupe's "freshening up" of
the material crosses the bounds of orthodoxy. It is true that Daniel's
Gospel features a "truth is within you" Christ, one paradoxically skeptical
of the Biblical account yet quite literal when it comes to depicting the
miracles though the Resurrection comes off a bit hazy and unsatisfying.
It's also true that anybody can turn their personal conflicts into a
persecution and martyrdom, so the conflict between priests and players over
the historicity of the Biblical account here is less effective than the less
literal resonances with the Gospel itself, making it come to life within the
play and without. With the breathtaking temple clearing, there's a brilliant
temptation sequence with a high-powered media lawyer, and a riff on Pilate's
"What is Truth?" discourse that makes a brilliant extrapolation of the
character. The film has much to say about the Imperial rule of contemporary
Media, and the director's very personal struggle with institutionalized
religion (note the recurring references to Hamlet, a play performed before a
wicked "father" to expose his sins.)
Yet Arcand struggles on: his new film,
The Barbarian Invasions, a decade-plus later sequel to Decline,
brings back in cameo both Father LeClerc still a cynical hypocrite
-but also Constance, who apparently went on to become a nun, and argues with
the film's central character about the need to "embrace the mystery."
Mike Hertenstein