Here's a couple of key parts from the above column, brought about because of the new movie "Son of God" (actually just put together from a mini series, I think) just released in the US:
Nothing makes Jesus more fictional than a movie. Some Christly movies are better than others. For instance, 1961’s King of Kings isn’t completely awful if you can watch past the plethora of Americanisms it commits and The Passion of the Christ has
a moment or two where Jesus comes to life if you’re able to block out
the violent way Mel Gibson beats and kills the story in the end. Still,
even the best Jesus movies fail to do the story justice. Even when the
acting is stellar and the production is spot on, the medium of film
seems incapable of translating the essence of Christ’s story, the true
reason the story has managed to survive generations.
Whether or not Christ’s story can survive Son of God and
Roma Downey remains to be seen. Few things cause the story of Jesus to
fall short of God’s glory like a factual cinematic portrayal acted out
by pretty Caucasians with British accents and bed-head walking joyfully
across barren landscapes to a dramatic symphony of flutes and strings.
At times, I swear I was watching the cast of Downton Abbey on vacation in Morocco. Among the long list of Christ-centric films that have been made in the last fifty years, Son of God—with its sexy Jesus who engages in cheesy “change the world” dialogue and seems to channel Harry Potter every time he performs a miracle—might end up being the chief of sinners.
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