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Rating: "I have always thought that I would make a film about Jesus. I don't know what comes first, cinema or religion. However, I have the impression that in a way the two things are inseparable…"
Martin Scorsese, 1988.
For Scorsese, religion is a source and ongoing influence, as constant as a raging river and capable of etching what is manifested to images with undeniable rationality. Sometimes thinly veiled under the eyes of a "Travis Bickle" struggling with his own deviant metropolitan ascension, even earlier, suspended and electric in heavy low-life atmospheres, like in those dim and asthmatic of "Mean Streets" (1973), this is a spirituality that reveals itself as an energy capable of acting as the only common thread, an inevitable nature in every film made by the multi-awarded and talented director. Indeed, it would seem simplistic to cite previous works like the ones mentioned above, partly because of the entirely different settings compared to the films under analysis (cold and materialistic with a metropolitan background, decidedly contrasting with the archaic landscape of Palestine B.C.), and certainly also for the totally standalone content, as personal and traceable to Scorsese's own subconscious.
Talking about "The Last Temptation of Christ" is the (allow me) "ultimate" and revolutionary expression of one of the most controversial and emotional events in human history, no less than the history of cinema itself. It is precisely the devotion with which the director asserts himself in every minute detail, as will be seen, that triumphs over every particular, an element that arouses reflection, especially for what dictated its fulfillment.
It all starts from a reading: "The Last Temptation", by Nikos Kazantzakis.
The novel fascinates Scorsese to the point of overturning his previous thoughts on the storyboard and the screenplay itself, which, influenced in this way, gives the content a novel figure of Christ never seen before in cinema and representations, one that borders on heresy. He was well aware that this romanticized figure could never correspond to the truth, but he found fascinating its garments, namely the life of a frustrated man perpetually forced to fight against the dual nature that constitutes him, made up of conflicts and victories, made of pain and divine omnipotence. A psychoanalysis in performative form, able to lend the dramatic and expressionist air to the visage of the Son of God with a vivid, intense, but also dark and abyssal color. The dynamics with which the acting cadence manages to extend throughout the film's course make the clear atmospheres of Palestine tangible, with its dusty streets and its temples, with its scents and voices. This merit must be fully recognized to Scorsese in choosing the location where the entire film was shot, Morocco, a country still able to guarantee, with its incredible preservation of the environment and structures of other times, that additional incipit which offers a look and senses realism worthy of the past, further ensured by the incredible choice of costumes and how they were treated (considering it took days to dirty them and make them as realistic as possible).
But what amazes the eye is the choice of the cast, done in a way never experienced before by Scorsese, who, worthy of the most impeccable perfectionism, indulges in the fetish choice of faces (and bodies) that would allow greater realism to this work. Willem Dafoe, both spiritually and physically bleeding, walks through the streets of towns in Israel, leaving very little to the imagination thanks to his great ability to adapt to the scene and his sweaty physical appearance relative to the climate, a detail not to be underestimated. With his lean but hyper-taut physique, he indeed lends Scorsese's Christ a humanity-infused charm perpetually corrupted by temptation and life's fears, massively breaking any preventive measure to be maintained towards the one who is "dead and resurrected."
Another delight is provided by the immortal Harvey Keitel, an intimate friend and scene partner of the director; he brings to Judas a pragmatic solidity that will make the fragility of Christ clear, who will use his compactness to fill his own voids. Keitel succeeds with his mimics like the perfect image of the violent and devoted hand of the faithful, willing to serve and follow his Lord, a role decidedly difficult given the unusual attitude that characterizes him compared to the known evangelical image of Judas. But to complete every dogmatic break, appears the alluring Barbara Hershey, who assumes posture and looks with mystical semblances worthy of a Mary Magdalene never conceived before. An interpretation that brings friction and temptation with that of Dafoe, making the union between the two full of spiritual as well as sexual understanding. Details that are definitely dear to the director, and that ensure to inflict on the whole a truthful and tangible connotation, capable of making the Holy Land comparable to any street in New York City. The celebrity tour reaches its climax finally with the presence of a never-before-seen David Bowie, able to deliver a performance full of solemnity and great talent, things that show how truly gifted one must be, to temporarily abandon the music business, and effortlessly dedicate oneself to portraying the most disturbing Pontius Pilate ever seen in cinema history.
Also noteworthy is Peter Gabriel, who with his masterful interpretation of the images renders the film's soundtrack with a more oriental and alluring imprint, able to astonish even the most skeptical, and make the earth, dust, and wind speak.
"The Last Temptation of Christ" is, and remains in my opinion, the boldest film Scorsese has ever undertaken.
A film worthy of the iconoclast fame he has managed to create over all these years, and which he has, with devotion, managed to associate with themes initially taboo to him, elements that never as during the crucifixion of Jesus are able to evoke the subconscious so explicitly. A film that thus cuts with the past, leaving behind other very important attempts like "The Gospel According to Matthew" by Pasolini, from which the director himself tries to escape recognizing in it a writing to be respected but from which to separate due to its excessive hermeticism. The attempt par excellence to delve and immerse the gaze inside the most interesting soul he has treaded upon. A fabulous film, to be appreciated in a progressive way and which, if even dissected, manages to be even more unique than one might imagine, for the immense capacity to confer on the most important man of the last two thousand years, that connotation of humanity easily found in the streets of our own towns and cities: namely the slow and exhausting struggle against one's own demons, in order to find a truth acceptable or not as such.
This is Scorsese’s Christ, and I bet that many would recognize themselves in it.
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