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Monday January 12, 2004 Volume VI Number 2
Star Power
by Ken Kemp
suppose it’s one way to define celebrity. It’s a room packed with over three thousand people, most of whom left a busy work-day for the privilege of meeting him in person and a preview of his most recent work. Somehow, I got an invitation, too. And like the others, I dropped the demands of my day, and the plans I’d made for clearing my desk of undone tasks, and made my way down the Interstate and into the auditorium with all the others.
And after it was over, no regrets.
It was Mel Gibson. Genuine star power. Star power: the ability to attract a monster crowd on a moment’s notice. The announcement of the appearance causes a complete re-arrangement of your plans. You want in.
Star power caught my attention when Gibson’s colleague in action mega-movies announced his intention to become our governor that crazy night. That moment rocked the nation as he sat across the desk late night with Jay Leno. It wasn’t so much my belief that he had the political know-how to pull one of the world’s largest economies out of a terrifying nose dive towards self-destruction. It had more to do with his enormous ability to influence. His infectious can-do attitude toward life’s challenges. His track record of achievement. His ability to inspire action. He went on by the sheer force of his winning ways to insure the unseating of the sitting governor, usher him out of Sacramento and in an orderly fashion (once again confirming the effectiveness of our system) move into the Governor’s office and take charge. Now, there is plenty of debate over his new policies and strategies, but no one can deny his ability to get an audience. And keep them interested. Our Governor is a force with which to be reckoned.
On certain levels, star power works.
It works with me, too.
After the showing, Mel walked out on the stage. A swell of enthusiasm filled the room, and in an instant, all three thousand of us were on our feet filling the room with applause in a solemn ovation. It was heartfelt. This group shared for that moment the undeniable conviction that Gibson’s work made a profound contribution to everything that is good and right; and that his most recent film inevitably will have a substantial and positive impact on a lost and confused world. The surge of gratitude in that auditorium as Gibson walked over to his place on the stage was sincere.
The film he calls The Passion of the Christ. It will be released next month.
* * * * * * *
Why would a major Hollywood director produce a film about the death of Jesus in Aramaic? It’s a haunting question, really. It raises the rather obvious point that this one man left an inescapable impression on one generation after another ever since. The timeless message he left behind lives on. Every new generation will interpret it and express it with the tools and technology and passion it can find. The best of each generation will find expression in it. New artists will paint it. Poets will describe it. Musicians will sing it. Historians will document it. Teachers will challenge their students with it. Preachers will proclaim it. Doubters will dismiss it.
But the life and message of Jesus will live on.
When Spielberg made Schindler’s List, it wasn’t for the money. He passionately believed that the story must be told. By this time in his career, he didn’t need money. His success as a movie-maker put him into another galaxy; elevated him to a place most people dream of but few attain. He could do whatever he wanted; retire, play, devote himself to home and family. But he needed to create. And his values, his passions took over. He made a movie that had no one in Hollywood would make. It wasn’t the product of focus groups or marketing wizardry. It wasn’t feel-good fluff or computer generated wiz-bang special effects. It was painful history that should not be forgotten. It was holding up a mirror, reflecting back the dangers of evil left unchecked. It graphically portrayed the awful horrors of prejudice and raw power unleashed on the innocents when good people stand aside in silence while tyrants reign in terror. It may well have been Spielberg’s crowning achievement.
Gibson possessed a similar passion. He had the money. He could well retire. What do you do when you have all the money you could possibly spend? Michael Jackson builds Neverland. Spielberg makes Schindler’s List. Gibson writes, directs and produces The Passion of the Christ.
It’s a personal thing. As Gibson took his place in a director’s chair on the stage for an interview with Lee Strobel, dressed in blue jeans and a tee-shirt, he seems somewhat uncomfortable, uncharacteristically unsure, in the presence of pastors and church leaders. Gibson is a devoted Catholic. He belongs to a small, orthodox sect within the church whose practices are strict and disciplined. It was a return to something he left behind as his career skyrocketed.
“Is this a film you felt somehow ‘called’ to make?” asked Strobels.
“Called?” Mel sounded incredulous. “How about compelled? Pushed? This was no nudge. This was a hard shove.”
He conceived the idea over twelve years ago. He’s talked about it. He gathered ideas. He entertained scholars and psychologists and historians and theologians, picking their brains. He expressed a concern that traditional “Bible movies” sanitized their subject, and imposed a cultural look that reflected far more the movie-maker’s values that what was actually written. He wanted accuracy. He wanted to portray the reality of the events that led up to the crucifixion.
He would aim at biblical accuracy. Historical veracity. He would utilize the original ancient languages – Aramaic and Latin. He would re-create first century Jerusalem. He would capture the tension between the occupying legions of Rome and religious Judaism. He would confront a new, contemporary audience with an authentic, first century Jesus. A human Jesus.
“Do you think some might stay away from the film because of its ‘R’ rating?” Strobel asked, knowing that many people in this audience have made that commitment: no R Rated movies. Period.
“Maybe,” said Gibson. “I wanted people to understand the brutality of his suffering. To come face to face with what the world, what we, what I did to him. No sugar coating. As it was. Tell the story accurately, and the R rating is inevitable. Maybe even NC-17.”
Pause.
“And you know when you think about it,” he continued, “honestly - the Bible really is itself ‘R-Rated.’” Laughter from the audience, acknowledging the inescapable fact of the assertion.
Gibson described his own personal journey. He said that his success brought him privileges and access and alternatives and options he’d never imagined he’d have. He found himself easily and readily seduced by the distractions of money and power and fame. After several years, alone in a high rise hotel room, he came to terms with the conflict. He knew his own capacity for self-contradiction. He understood the destructive nature of some of his impulses. He knew it was possible to destroy everything he really valued. It was more than money. More than harmless fun.
He was faced with a profound choice.
The inconsistency caused him deep and personal pain. He, Mel Gibson, was wounded. He had wounded others. He admitted that it all came together one night as he looked out the window of a fifteen story hotel room.
It was there he understood: only the wounds of Jesus could heal his own.
There, he took a stand. He embraced the Jesus of the New Testament. He was transformed.
Sometime later, he determined to capture the final hours of Jesus life on film.
It took forty million of his own dollars.
* * * * * * *
The result is as compelling a film as I have ever scene. Every frame, a work of art. A surround sound track that puts you in the middle of the scene, as though you are a participant. And… you are.
And that’s the point.
As the final scene faded to black, the sound track went silent, as did the audience of three thousand. It was time to reflect – on perhaps the most telling moment in all of human history.
* * * * * * * *
It’s Monday morning. You are a leader.
Have you ever done anything in your life that had a sense of destiny about it?
It wasn’t a question of desire - wanting to do it. It wasn’t a paycheck. It didn’t have anything to do with profits or bonuses or compensation. It wasn’t a career move. It didn’t really matter if anyone else understood. Or approved.
It was simply something you had to do.
It was a compulsion. You didn’t really have a choice. It was necessary. It was right. You couldn’t rest until it was done. It was simply meant to be.
It was a calling.
This film, for Mel Gibson, mega-star, was a calling. You will see the film, I’m certain of it. You will be strangely, powerfully, deeply moved.
I’d like to convince you to believe, even though I know I can’t. But this time, this time, you may well find yourself open on a level you have never before experienced.
And that’s when we’ll talk more.
Posted in Valley Center, California
© Copyright Kenneth E. Kemp 2004
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