- Culture
- 03 Apr 18
Powerful feminist overtones eventually give way to traditional Christ tale.
“What do you fear in yourself?” Jesus asks Mary Magdalene. “My thoughts, my longings, my unhappiness,” she replies. It’s an interaction that sets the tone of Garth Davis’ film; a tale about a woman tormented by doubt and oppression, and the one man who respects her enough to ask. But does the film itself have the courage to address these characters’ struggles and connection in more explicit terms?
Rooney Mara plays Mary Magdalene, a woman living a life of labour and Jewish devotion in coastal Judaea.
Though Mary’s role as a midwife has earned her some respect, the fact that she is still unmarried in her early twenties increasingly draws the suspicion and ire of the elders in her community. When she reacts emotionally to a forced match, her father and brothers march her out to sea for an exorcism, a heart-stopping portrait of misogyny and cruelty. No wonder then that Mary is drawn to the enlightened wisdom and gender-blind respect shown by the prophet (Joaquin Phoenix) who visits her village, and decides to transcend her claustrophobic existence by following him.
Mara and Phoenix are intriguing performers, the former capturing the faraway longing of a woman out of step with society, the latter imbuing the son of God with his natural otherworldly charisma and vulnerability. But as the quietly powerful, feminist first act about Mary’s life transforms into another cinematic re-enactment of the Stations of the Cross, Davis’ films loses its uniqueness. The role of women in protecting Jesus’ legacy is addressed, but this becomes merely an interesting detail in the background of an overwhelmingly safe retelling of the man they call Christ.
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Avoiding any carnality or controversy, the writing remains formal and wan, save for Tahar Rahim’s scene-stealing turn as an intriguingly empathic Judas Iscariot.
But the film is beautiful, the swelling strings of Hildur Gunadóttir and Jóhann Jóhannsson’s unreservedly vast score complementing the sun-bleached beauty of the landscape. If only the tale itself were slightly uglier, slightly less bleached clean, slightly more human.