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OH MY DAD!!!: Angry Saviors and Eurotrash Gods June 19, 2006

Posted by doctorolove in Movies, Pop Culture Rants.
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Jesus is pissed.

Now, sure, there are so many theories and debates as to just why our planet has been spewing back natural disasters upon us like a drunken buffoon loses his dinner. I’m not one to stir the political pot. Maybe he’s mad at war. Maybe he’s mad at nuclear proliferation. Maybe he’s still seething that Clay beat out Ruben to win American Idol a few years back. Whatever the case, the powers that be are a little miffed. And I think I know why.

This theory only works if you look at Jesus in an US Weekly context. Think about that for a second. Jesus is the ultimate Eurotrash son of a powerful magnate. He’s the Paris Latsis of the universe. Think about that. He has all the stereotypical traits. There’s the powerful, mysterious father who nobody can really pinpoint just what he does. “Oh, he’s in shipping.” Shipping? The guy at the FedEx counter has a business card that says he’s in shipping.  Jesus has the ultimate study abroad program, only instead of his rich, powerful father sending him to some snobby British prep school or an Ivy League University, he got to go to Israel and walk around in a desert, studying, well, man. And last I checked they don’t have a degree in Saving Humanity at Yale.  He always had an entourage surrounding him, hanging on his every word, always asking him to pick up the dinner tab. Or if he didn’t have the money for it, at least make dinner using a slice of Wonder Bread and a can of tuna. He hung around with the local starlet of note, never marrying and just stringing her along. And when things got too tough and the trappings became a bit too much for him to handle, his father called him home to learn the family business.

Now, that alone is no cause to rain down fire and brimstone and send homes and cars careening across the Lower Ward of New Orleans. If you’ve ever had the pleasure of being in a social environment when the Eurotrash celubutante of the moment comes in, they are usually a pleasurable bunch. They cackle on in an undistinguishable accent. They throw liquor around the room like its’ nobody’s business. And either them or one of the vapid hangers on with them is good for at least one laugh worthy moment involving dancing on a raised platform that always ends in a Funniest Videos slapstick fall. So how do you piss off a Eurotrash magnate?

Bad press. And Jesus got that last year. Thanks to Mel Gibson.

The Passion  of the Christ was a fine film, if you’re into the whole “This guy died for my sins and I can’t even change my car oil” sort of thing. I hold nothing against Mel for making and do think it was a monumental and risky chance to bank your own money that America would accept a zealot’s personal view of many people’s savior being mutilated and tortured for two hours. The message was clear: Jesus died for you sins, gosh darnit, so change your lives and live for him. And yes, go to a class at Jiffy Lube and change your own oil. But as we watch the Latsis and the Onassi (plural of Onassis, I looked it up) we know they care about the message: it’s the pictures. A great shot of you standing with Lindsay Lohan, chatting at some fundraiser is great. You holding her hair back in the alley behind a superdisco is not. And while the message of Passion was one of loyalty and personal introspection, the pictures were, in a celebutante word, gross.

Who wants their life portrayed like that? They were showing the gore and the pain. They painted his girl out to be a whore. Sure she was, but even the tabloids don’t go as far to admit just what Kimberley Stewart is. And what’s worse, for all the critical acclaim this clothes off scare fest get, it received no Oscars. Zip. Even the straight guys who made out in Brokeback got an MTV Movie Award, so it was worth it in that way. So at the end of the day, Jesus was pissed. The first movie made in his own language, using period pieces, using true life steady cam style was a three hour depression fest. And depression doesn’t get the kids rocking.

And what does Jesus do? Like any good magnate’s son, he obviously tells his dad who responds to his son’s complaints by leveling a few cities in Thailand with a giant wave or two.

Can we fix the wrath of a god who just may be wearing acid wash jeans and listening to Kraftwerk? The Da Vinci Code has been garnering the wrath of the Vatican, Jesus’ number one PR firm. They say it’s story line involving the idea that Jesus may have actually copulated with Mary Magdalene. Blaspheme, they may scream. But we all know a good PR firm says one thing to our faces while smiling behind our backs. Jesus must be happy, because just insinuating you had sex with someone is worth its’ worth in publicity gold, even if you didn’t at all. That’s right, Justin Timberlake, I’m looking right at you. And if you notice since the Da Vinci Code came out, no tsunamis. Sure, a hurricane hit Florida but that’s a personal vendetta between God and the Bushes.

In the sixties, all the Jesus based films were loud epics chock full of dancing Arabian women and pretty boy actors, spouting corny bible passages with voices that sounded like they were auditioning for the James Earl Jones sound-alike contest.  But Jesus was cool with them because, truthfully, nobody really watched them, save for a few people in Texas. We need to get back to that. Make the films about our Savior boring and he won’t care. Hire Oliver Stone to direct a few and nobody will even notice them, whether they’re gory or not. Because you can always blame bad press on him. He lives for that shit.

So, who’s with me? Pretty boys who can’t act, yelling their way through passages that have little meaning, but sound good.

Still looking at you, Justin.

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