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I know it is coming, and I do not fear it, because I believe there is nothing on the other side of death to fear. I hope to be spared as much pain as possible on the approach path. I was perfectly content before I was born, and I think of death as the same state. I am grateful for the gifts of intelligence, love, wonder and laughter. You can’t say it wasn’t interesting. My lifetime’s memories are what I have brought home from the trip. I will require them for eternity no more than that little souvenir of the Eiffel Tower I brought home from Paris.
I don’t expect to die anytime soon. But it could happen this moment, while I am writing. I was talking the other day with Jim Toback, a friend of 35 years, and the conversation turned to our deaths, as it always does. “Ask someone how they feel about death,” he said, “and they’ll tell you everyone’s gonna die. Ask them, In the next 30 seconds? No, no, no, that’s not gonna happen. How about this afternoon? No. What you’re really asking them to admit is, Oh my God, I don’t really exist. I might be gone at any given second.”
Me too, but I hope not. I have plans. Still, illness led me resolutely toward the contemplation of death. That led me to the subject of evolution, that most consoling of all the sciences, and I became engulfed on my blog in unforeseen discussions about God, the afterlife, religion, theory of evolution, intelligent design, reincarnation, the nature of reality, what came before the big bang, what waits after the end, the nature of intelligence, the reality of the self, death, death, death.
Many readers have informed me that it is a tragic and dreary business to go into death without faith. I don’t feel that way. “Faith” is neutral. All depends on what is believed in. I have no desire to live forever. The concept frightens me. I am 69, have had cancer, will die sooner than most of those reading this. That is in the nature of things. In my plans for life after death, I say, again with Whitman:
I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.
And with Will, the brother in Saul Bellow’s “Herzog,” I say, “Look for me in the weather reports.”
Raised as a Roman Catholic, I internalized the social values of that faith and still hold most of them, even though its theology no longer persuades me. I have no quarrel with what anyone else subscribes to; everyone deals with these things in his own way, and I have no truths to impart. All I require of a religion is that it be tolerant of those who do not agree with it. I know a priest whose eyes twinkle when he says, “You go about God’s work in your way, and I’ll go about it in His.”
What I expect to happen is that my body will fail, my mind will cease to function and that will be that. My genes will not live on, because I have had no children. I am comforted by Richard Dawkins’ theory of memes. Those are mental units: thoughts, ideas, gestures, notions, songs, beliefs, rhymes, ideals, teachings, sayings, phrases, clichés that move from mind to mind as genes move from body to body. After a lifetime of writing, teaching, broadcasting and telling too many jokes, I will leave behind more memes than many. They will all also eventually die, but so it goes.
O’Rourke’s had a photograph of Brendan Behan on the wall, and under it this quotation, which I memorized:
I respect kindness in human beings first of all, and kindness to animals. I don’t respect the law; I have a total irreverence for anything connected with society except that which makes the roads safer, the beer stronger, the food cheaper and the old men and old women warmer in the winter and happier in the summer.
That does a pretty good job of summing it up. “Kindness” covers all of my political beliefs. No need to spell them out. I believe that if, at the end, according to our abilities, we have done something to make others a little happier, and something to make ourselves a little happier, that is about the best we can do. To make others less happy is a crime. To make ourselves unhappy is where all crime starts. We must try to contribute joy to the world. That is true no matter what our problems, our health, our circumstances. We must try. I didn’t always know this and am happy I lived long enough to find it out.
One of these days I will encounter what Henry James called on his deathbed “the distinguished thing.” I will not be conscious of the moment of passing. In this life I have already been declared dead. It wasn’t so bad. After the first ruptured artery, the doctors thought I was finished. My wife, Chaz, said she sensed that I was still alive and was communicating to her that I wasn’t finished yet. She said our hearts were beating in unison, although my heartbeat couldn’t be discovered. She told the doctors I was alive, they did what doctors do, and here I am, alive.
Do I believe her? Absolutely. I believe her literally — not symbolically, figuratively or spiritually. I believe she was actually aware of my call and that she sensed my heartbeat. I believe she did it in the real, physical world I have described, the one that I share with my wristwatch. I see no reason why such communication could not take place. I’m not talking about telepathy, psychic phenomenon or a miracle. The only miracle is that she was there when it happened, as she was for many long days and nights. I’m talking about her standing there and knowing something. Haven’t many of us experienced that? Come on, haven’t you? What goes on happens at a level not accessible to scientists, theologians, mystics, physicists, philosophers or psychiatrists. It’s a human kind of a thing.
Someday I will no longer call out, and there will be no heartbeat. I will be dead. What happens then? From my point of view, nothing. Absolutely nothing. All the same, as I wrote to Monica Eng, whom I have known since she was six, “You’d better cry at my memorial service.” I correspond with a dear friend, the wise and gentle Australian director Paul Cox. Our subject sometimes turns to death. In 2010 he came very close to dying before receiving a liver transplant. In 1988 he made a documentary named “Vincent: The Life and Death of Vincent van Gogh.” Paul wrote me that in his Arles days, van Gogh called himself “a simple worshiper of the external Buddha.” Paul told me that in those days, Vincent wrote:
Looking at the stars always makes me dream, as simply as I dream over the black dots representing towns and villages on a map.
Why, I ask myself, shouldn’t the shining dots of the sky be as accessible as the black dots on the map of France?
Just as we take a train to get to Tarascon or Rouen, we take death to reach a star. We cannot get to a star while we are alive any more than we can take the train when we are dead. So to me it seems possible that cholera, tuberculosis and cancer are the celestial means of locomotion. Just as steamboats, buses and railways are the terrestrial means.
To die quietly of old age would be to go there on foot.
That is a lovely thing to read, and a relief to find I will probably take the celestial locomotive. Or, as his little dog, Milou, says whenever Tintin proposes a journey, “Not by foot, I hope!”
http://www.salon.com/2011/09/15/roger_ebert/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roger_Ebert
Originally posted by JS357I remember well the discussions of films between Siskel and Ebert. I used to watch them faithfully. They had often heated discussions and we were the better for them.
I know it is coming, and I do not fear it, because I believe there is nothing on the other side of death to fear. I hope to be spared as much pain as possible on the approach path. I was perfectly content before I was born, and I think of death as the same state. I am grateful for the gifts of intelligence, love, wonder and laughter. You can’t say it wasn’t in ...[text shortened]... pe!”
http://www.salon.com/2011/09/15/roger_ebert/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roger_Ebert
Here is a look at some of their moments on this memoriam piece by the NY Observer:
http://observer.com/2013/04/in-memoriam-a-look-back-at-siskel-and-ebert-and-the-movies-video/
Originally posted by JS357Tasteful Floral Bouquet Delivered with Candor Before the Fact: How Rare an Event in Our Own Lives and Times. Thank You.
I know it is coming, and I do not fear it, because I believe there is nothing on the other side of death to fear. I hope to be spared as much pain as possible on the approach path. I was perfectly content before I was born, and I think of death as the same state. I am grateful for the gifts of intelligence, love, wonder and laughter. You can’t say it wasn’t inter ...[text shortened]... I hope!”
http://www.salon.com/2011/09/15/roger_ebert/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roger_Ebert
Originally posted by FMF"Just as we take a train to get to Tarascon or Rouen"
No self-righteous parrotted trash talk from you about Roger Ebert's "Total Immersion in The Lake of Fire for Eternity", then? 🙂
Apparently, Roger knows the address of his final destination
and arrived at the station in time to get his ticket punched.
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Originally posted by Grampy BobbyEbert described the sorts of superstitions you have as "woo-woo". You normally dish out pompous trash talk to people who do not share your beliefs. Why not this time?
"Just as we take a train to get to Tarascon or Rouen"
Apparently, Roger knows the address of his final destination
and arrived at the station in time to get his ticket punched.
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http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/woo_woo
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Originally posted by Grampy BobbyWhat do people think his review hereby pasted below?
"Just as we take a train to get to Tarascon or Rouen"
Apparently, Roger knows the address of his final destination
and arrived at the station in time to get his ticket punched.
-
http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/19980107/REVIEWS/801070303/1023
The Last Temptation Of Christ
Release Date: 1998
Ebert Rating: ****
By Roger Ebert Jan 7, 1998
Christianity teaches that Jesus was both God and man. That he could be both at once is the central mystery of the Christian faith, and the subject of "The Last Temptation of Christ." To be fully man, Jesus would have had to possess all of the weakness of man, to be prey to all of the temptations--for as man, he would have possessed God's most troublesome gift, free will. As the son of God, he would of course have inspired the most desperate wiles of Satan, and this is a film about how he experienced temptation and conquered it.
That, in itself, makes "The Last Temptation of Christ" sound like a serious and devout film, which it is. The astonishing controversy that has raged around this film is primarily the work of fundamentalists who have their own view of Christ and are offended by a film that they feel questions his divinity. But in the father's house are many mansions, and there is more than one way to consider the story of Christ--why else are there four Gospels? Among those who do not already have rigid views on the subject, this film is likely to inspire more serious thought on the nature of Jesus than any other ever made.
That is the irony about the attempts to suppress this film; it is a sincere, thoughtful investigation of the subject, made as a collaboration between the two American filmmakers who have been personally most attracted to serious films about sin, guilt and redemption. Martin Scorsese, the director, has made more than half of his films about battles in the souls of his characters between grace and sin. Paul Schrader, the screenwriter, has written Scorsese's best films ("Taxi Driver," "Raging Bull" ) and directed his own films about men torn between their beliefs and their passions ("Hard Core," with George C. Scott as a fundamentalist whose daughter plunges into the carnal underworld, and "Mishima," about the Japanese writer who killed himself as a demonstration of his fanatic belief in tradition).
Scorsese and Schrader have not made a film that panders to the audience--as almost all Hollywood religious epics traditionally have. They have paid Christ the compliment of taking him and his message seriously, and they have made a film that does not turn him into a garish, emasculated image from a religious postcard. Here he is flesh and blood, struggling, questioning, asking himself and his father which is the right way, and finally, after great suffering, earning the right to say, on the cross, "It is accomplished."
The critics of this film, many of whom have not seen it, have raised a sensational hue and cry about the final passages, in which Christ on the cross, in great pain, begins to hallucinate and imagines what his life would have been like if he had been free to live as an ordinary man. In his reverie, he marries Mary Magdelene, has children, grows old. But it is clear in the film that this hallucination is sent to him by Satan, at the time of his greatest weakness, to tempt him. And in the hallucination itself, in the film's most absorbing scene, an elderly Jesus is reproached by his aging Apostles for having abandoned his mission. Through this imaginary conversation, Jesus finds the strength to shake off his temptation and return to consciousness to accept his suffering, death and resurrection.
During the hallucination, there is a very brief moment when he is seen making love with Magdelene. This scene is shot with such restraint and tact that it does not qualify in any way as a "sex scene," but instead is simply an illustration of marriage and the creation of children. Those offended by the film object to the very notion that Jesus could have, or even imagine having, sexual intercourse. But of course Christianity teaches that the union of man and wife is one of the fundamental reasons God created human beings, and to imagine that the son of God, as a man, could not encompass such thoughts within his intelligence is itself a kind of insult. Was he less than the rest of us? Was he not fully man?
There is biblical precedent for such temptations. We read of the 40 days and nights during which Satan tempted Christ in the desert with visions of the joys that could be his if he renounced his father. In the film, which is clearly introduced as a fiction and not as an account based on the Bible, Satan tries yet once again at the moment of Christ's greatest weakness. I do not understand why this is offensive, especially since it is not presented in a sensational way.
I see that this entire review has been preoccupied with replying to the attacks of the film's critics, with discussing the issues, rather than with reviewing "The Last Temptation of Christ" as a motion picture. Perhaps that is an interesting proof of the film's worth. Here is a film that engaged me on the subject of Christ's dual nature, that caused me to think about the mystery of a being who could be both God and man. I cannot think of another film on a religious subject that has challenged me more fully. The film has offended those whose ideas about God and man it does not reflect. But then, so did Jesus.
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Originally posted by Grampy BobbyOr This?
"Just as we take a train to get to Tarascon or Rouen"
Apparently, Roger knows the address of his final destination
and arrived at the station in time to get his ticket punched.
-
http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20040224/REVIEWS/402240301/1023
The Passion of the Christ
Release Date: 2004
Ebert Rating: ****
By Roger Ebert Feb 24, 2004
If ever there was a film with the correct title, that film is Mel Gibson's "The Passion of the Christ." Although the word passion has become mixed up with romance, its Latin origins refer to suffering and pain; later Christian theology broadened that to include Christ's love for mankind, which made him willing to suffer and die for us.
The movie is 126 minutes long, and I would guess that at least 100 of those minutes, maybe more, are concerned specifically and graphically with the details of the torture and death of Jesus. This is the most violent film I have ever seen.
I prefer to evaluate a film on the basis of what it intends to do, not on what I think it should have done. It is clear that Mel Gibson wanted to make graphic and inescapable the price that Jesus paid (as Christians believe) when he died for our sins. Anyone raised as a Catholic will be familiar with the stops along the way; the screenplay is inspired not so much by the Gospels as by the 14 Stations of the Cross. As an altar boy, serving during the Stations on Friday nights in Lent, I was encouraged to meditate on Christ's suffering, and I remember the chants as the priest led the way from one station to another:
At the Cross, her station keeping ...
Stood the mournful Mother weeping ...
Close to Jesus to the last.
For we altar boys, this was not necessarily a deep spiritual experience. Christ suffered, Christ died, Christ rose again, we were redeemed, and let's hope we can get home in time to watch the Illinois basketball game on TV. What Gibson has provided for me, for the first time in my life, is a visceral idea of what the Passion consisted of. That his film is superficial in terms of the surrounding message -- that we get only a few passing references to the teachings of Jesus -- is, I suppose, not the point. This is not a sermon or a homily, but a visualization of the central event in the Christian religion. Take it or leave it.
David Ansen, a critic I respect, finds in Newsweek that Gibson has gone too far. "The relentless gore is self-defeating," he writes. "Instead of being moved by Christ's suffering or awed by his sacrifice, I felt abused by a filmmaker intent on punishing an audience, for who knows what sins."
This is a completely valid response to the film, and I quote Ansen because I suspect he speaks for many audience members, who will enter the theater in a devout or spiritual mood and emerge deeply disturbed. You must be prepared for whippings, flayings, beatings, the crunch of bones, the agony of screams, the cruelty of the sadistic centurions, the rivulets of blood that crisscross every inch of Jesus' body. Some will leave before the end.
This is not a Passion like any other ever filmed. Perhaps that is the best reason for it. I grew up on those pious Hollywood biblical epics of the 1950s, which looked like holy cards brought to life. I remember my grin when Time magazine noted that Jeffrey Hunter, starring as Christ in "King of Kings" (1961), had shaved his armpits. (Not Hunter's fault; the film's Crucifixion scene had to be re-shot because preview audiences objected to Jesus' hairy chest.)
If it does nothing else, Gibson's film will break the tradition of turning Jesus and his disciples into neat, clean, well-barbered middle-class businessmen. They were poor men in a poor land. I debated Martin Scorsese's "The Last Temptation of Christ" with commentator Michael Medved before an audience from a Christian college, and was told by an audience member that the characters were filthy and needed haircuts.
The Middle East in biblical times was a Jewish community occupied against its will by the Roman Empire, and the message of Jesus was equally threatening to both sides: to the Romans, because he was a revolutionary, and to the establishment of Jewish priests, because he preached a new covenant and threatened the status quo.
In the movie's scenes showing Jesus being condemned to death, the two main players are Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor, and Caiaphas, the Jewish high priest. Both men want to keep the lid on, and while neither is especially eager to see Jesus crucified, they live in a harsh time when such a man is dangerous.
Pilate is seen going through his well-known doubts before finally washing his hands of the matter and turning Jesus over to the priests, but Caiaphas, who also had doubts, is not seen as sympathetically. The critic Steven D. Greydanus, in a useful analysis of the film, writes: "The film omits the canonical line from John's gospel in which Caiaphas argues that it is better for one man to die for the people [so] that the nation be saved.
"Had Gibson retained this line, perhaps giving Caiaphas a measure of the inner conflict he gave to Pilate, it could have underscored the similarities between Caiaphas and Pilate and helped defuse the issue of anti-Semitism."
This scene and others might justifiably be cited by anyone concerned that the movie contains anti-Semitism. My own feeling is that Gibson's film is not anti-Semitic, but reflects a range of behavior on the part of its Jewish characters, on balance favorably. The Jews who seem to desire Jesus' death are in the priesthood, and have political as well as theological reasons for acting; like today's Catholic bishops who were slow to condemn abusive priests, Protestant TV preachers who confuse religion with politics, or Muslim clerics who are silent on terrorism, they have an investment in their positions and authority. The other Jews seen in the film are viewed positively; Simon helps Jesus to carry the cross, Veronica brings a cloth to wipe his face, Jews in the crowd cry out against his torture.
A reasonable person, I believe, will reflect that in this story set in a Jewish land, there are many characters with many motives, some good, some not, each one representing himself, none representing his religion. The story involves a Jew who tried no less than to replace the established religion and set himself up as the Messiah. He was understandably greeted with a jaundiced eye by the Jewish establishment while at the same time finding his support, his disciples and the founders of his church entirely among his fellow Jews. The libel that the Jews "killed Christ" involves a willful misreading of testament and teaching: Jesus was made man and came to Earth in order to suffer and die in reparation for our sins. No race, no man, no priest, no governor, no executioner killed Jesus; he died by God's will to fulfill his purpose, and with our sins we all killed him. That some Christian churches have historically been guilty of the sin of anti-Semitism is undeniable, but in committing it they violated their own beliefs.
This discussion will seem beside the point for readers who want to know about the movie, not the theology. But "The Passion of the Christ," more than any other film I can recall, depends upon theological considerations. Gibson has not made a movie that anyone would call "commercial," and if it grosses millions, that will not be because anyone was entertained. It is a personal message movie of the most radical kind, attempting to re-create events of personal urgency to Gibson. The filmmaker has put his artistry and fortune at the service of his conviction and belief, and that doesn't happen often.
Is the film "good" or "great?" I imagine each person's reaction (visceral, theological, artistic) will differ. I was moved by the depth of feeling, by the skill of the actors and technicians, by their desire to see this project through no matter what. To discuss individual performances, such as James Caviezel's heroic depiction of the ordeal, is almost beside the point. This isn't a movie about performances, although it has powerful ones, or about technique, although it is awesome, or about cinematography (although Caleb Deschanel paints with an artist's eye), or music (although John Debney supports the content without distracting from it).
It is a film about an idea. An idea that it is necessary to fully comprehend the Passion if Christianity is to make any sense. Gibson has communicated his idea with a singleminded urgency. Many will disagree. Some will agree, but be horrified by the graphic treatment. I myself am no longer religious in the sense that a long-ago altar boy thought he should be, but I can respond to the power of belief whether I agree or not, and when I find it in a film, I must respect it.
Note: I said the film is the most violent I have ever seen. It will probably be the most violent you have ever seen. This is not a criticism but an observation; the film is unsuitable for younger viewers, but works powerfully for those who can endure it. The MPAA's R rating is definitive proof that the organization either will never give the NC-17 rating for violence alone, or was intimidated by the subject matter. If it had been anyone other than Jesus up on that cross, I have a feeling that NC-17 would have been automatic.
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Originally posted by Grampy BobbyOr this?
"Just as we take a train to get to Tarascon or Rouen"
Apparently, Roger knows the address of his final destination
and arrived at the station in time to get his ticket punched.
-
http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/19730815/REVIEWS/301010316/1023
Jesus Christ Superstar
Release Date: 1973
Ebert Rating: ***
By Roger Ebert Aug 15, 1973
Norman Jewison's "Jesus Christ Superstar" is a bright and sometimes breathtaking retelling of the rock opera of the same name. It is, indeed, a triumph over that work; using most of the same words and music, it succeeds in being light instead of turgid, outward-looking instead of narcissistic. Jewison, a director of large talent, has taken a piece of commercial shlock and turned it into a Biblical movie with dignity.
That isn't easy to do. The life of Christ would seem to have an innate dignity to it, but only in such rare films as Pier Paolo Pasolini's "The Gospel According to St. Matthew" or Martin Scorsese's "The Last Temptation of Christ" has Christ come off as human, strong and reachable. The character has a tendency to disintegrate before our eyes; it's the only male role we can imagine where the cinematographer considers gauze over the lens. Christ seems wispy and too ethereal, and Mary Magdalene begins to steal scenes. The lowest point in this sort of thing was reached by Jeffrey Hunter as Christ in the remake of "King of Kings"--but let that memory steal quietly away.
Norman Jewison gives us a likable Christ in Ted Neeley, who sometimes seems a little bemused by his superstar status. The premise of the movie is that Christ was the first superstar--the first man with a hyperthyroid charisma. The ordinary people around him begin to get a little worried after a while; they like him and don't want him to get in trouble with the Romans. Most worried of all is Judas, who advises Christ to maintain a low profile.
He doesn't of course; but in deference to the several readers who didn't like my review of "The Last of Sheila" because I gave away too much of the plot, I won't reveal what happens to Christ in the end. Along the way, though, Jewison and his cinematographer Douglas Slocombe give us some of the most spectacular wide screen photography since "Doctor Zhivago," and they achieve a color range that glows with life and somehow doesn't make the desert look barren.
Individual moments have such beauty and grace that you're afraid to think of the pains that must have been necessary to get them. There are extreme long shots of characters isolated in a vast wilderness; there are lonely shots into the sun of ancient monuments; and there's one absolutely stunning shot that shows us an apparently empty landscape and then tilts down to reveal Jesus and his disciples in a gigantic, sunlit cavern.
The movie has become controversial for a couple of reasons: Jewish groups have attacked it for being anti-Semitic, and some reviewers have wondered aloud why the only black in the movie happened to be cast as Judas. Jewison is wrong, of course, to blame the death of Jesus on the Jews; the Roman Catholic Church, which hasn't exactly been in the vanguard on this question, officially decided some years ago that the doctrine of collective Jewish responsibility was in error. That's in line with the historical scholarship on the subject. But Jewison is dealing with a fantasy about the life of Christ, not fact, and if he wants to typecast, that's his right as a filmmaker. We also have the right to be offended.
As for the black Judas, I really don't think there's any reason to be concerned after seeing Carl Anderson's fine performance in the role. He has an energy and strength that makes Judas seem recognizably human, for a change, instead of that vapid little sneak over on the right-hand side of the canvas with the bag in his hand. Jewison suggests that Judas (by his own lights, anyway) had a legitimate concern about Christ's popularity. And in the Jewison version, Judas doesn't so much as betray Christ for the pieces of silver as make a tactical error in his dealings with the Romans. Interesting.
The music is clear and bouncy, and the movie sound track album should be a better version of the rock opera than the original. Jewison is especially good with peppy numbers like "What's the Buzz?" and we never get the feeling he's manipulating his characters or forcing them into staged-looking choreography. They inhabit the desert freely, enacting their story as if it were not the central event in the Christian religion but rather the interesting career of a promising young man.
Originally posted by JS357I saw some of the movie. The jarring scene I remember was where they had Christ unable to conquer his attraction to Mary. It was a gut-wrenching scene because on the one hand I felt sympathy for Christ (as the movie depicted him). But at the same time, I'm pretty outraged at the idea--which is completely unsupported by the bible--that Christ wasn't strong enough to withstand that temptation.
What do people think his review hereby pasted below?
http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/19980107/REVIEWS/801070303/1023
The Last Temptation Of Christ
Release Date: 1998
Ebert Rating: ****
By Roger Ebert Jan 7, 1998
Christianity teaches that Jesus was both God and man. That he could be both at once is the central myst e ideas about God and man it does not reflect. But then, so did Jesus.
I don't see how Roger Ebert didn't get that, as he was obviously quite intelligent. Yet, it's pretty clear from what I've read in this thread alone, that he wasn't Christian. That would go far in explaining his misinterpretation of the Christian backlash toward this movie. Not only do these posts make it clear he wasn't Christian, but I personally always thought he was gay. That would obviously pose a problem for him when it comes to embracing or rejecting the bible.
All that aside, I really liked the guy and thoroughly enjoyed his movie reviews. I wish him and those close to him the best, and may his soul rest in peace.
Originally posted by JS357I only saw "Jesus Christ Superstar" so I can't comment on the other two movies. But I thought of that movie as an entertaining musical comedy and liked it very much. Perhaps that was because I realized that it was not meant to be a serious portrayal of the life of Christ.
Or this?
http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/19730815/REVIEWS/301010316/1023
Jesus Christ Superstar
Release Date: 1973
Ebert Rating: ***
By Roger Ebert Aug 15, 1973
Norman Jewison's "Jesus Christ Superstar" is a bright and sometimes breathtaking retelling of the rock opera of the same name. It is, indeed, a triumph o but rather the interesting career of a promising young man.
P.S. I have also noticed that these movie critics have given thumbs downs to many movies the my wife and I have enjoyed very much. Therefore, I have learned not to allow what a critic says to prevent me from going to a movie that we feel like is worth seeing for entertainment. We have also went to highly rated movies and came away disappointed.
Originally posted by JS357"What do people think his review hereby pasted below?"
What do people think his review hereby pasted below?
http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/19980107/REVIEWS/801070303/1023
The Last Temptation Of Christ
Release Date: 1998
Ebert Rating: ****
By Roger Ebert Jan 7, 1998
Christianity teaches that Jesus was both God and man. That he could be both at once is the central mystery ...[text shortened]... whose ideas about God and man it does not reflect. But then, so did Jesus.
Expressed gb's take. Opines of the multitudes are well beyond his ken.
Maybe ask, JS357, who seems to be the omniscient one in our midst.