Dennis Prager was right--when it comes to The Passion Of The Christ, Jews and Christians are watching two entirely different films. My wife Nina wrote her own review of the film while I was writing mine, and I asked her if she'd mind if I posted it here:

We left the theater where we had watched The Passion of The Christ about 5 hours ago. Since then we have spoken of little else. I, for one, have bawled my eyes out, and I’m exhausted.

What a wonderful tribute to a filmmaker to have his movie engender thought, discussion and a deep emotional reaction. How rare for a movie to do this.

Being Jewish, I was concerned that I would see the movie as anti-Semitic as some reviewers have done. I kind of like Mel Gibson, of the little I’ve read about him, and I really didn’t want to think that he had written, produced, and directed an anti-Semitic movie, so I dug around and read an interview with him which pretty much convinced me that he is far from anti-Semitic, and that in fact he did hope to present a film “about faith, hope, love and forgiveness.” I was happy to go into the theater with a much more positive and optimistic viewpoint than I had had after reading assorted reviews.

We saw The Passion in an old theater that is usually empty, even for big hits, having been eclipsed by a 20-plex nearby. We’ve seen The Lord of the Rings, assorted Matrices, Star Wars: Episode II and other big openings there with only a handful of other theatergoers. We were surprised to see the 3:35 p.m. weekday crowd grow until the theater was more crowded than we’ve seen it in years.

I found the first scene a tad over acted, and I couldn’t help thinking that I had wandered into a Lord of the Rings sequel with the uncharacteristically foggy atmosphere. But I quickly got into the movie, a real tribute to Gibson given the subtitles. Somewhere along the way I was hit by a medicine ball in the stomach. I don’t remember the scene, but a wave of fear came over me. “Oh my God,” I thought. Nothing more rational or coherent, just a deep visceral, almost genetic fear that once again we would be blamed. And tears welled in my eyes.

That moment passed, but I could no longer not notice that Pontius Pilate was portrayed as a deeply conflicted human being, manipulated by the assorted look-alike Jewish priests. I couldn’t help myself from focusing on how often a Roman would be portrayed as having a moment of self-awareness or guilt, and how rarely a Jew was so portrayed. I couldn’t stop thinking that Gibson showed way more Jew’s stoning Jesus and weeping for him. I knew that I was watching a different movie from my husband, who is not Jewish, and a different movie from the one Gibson wanted me to watch. But it was like seeing the damn bunny in the clouds. Once that medicine ball hit me, I couldn’t help what I saw.

Gibson’s obsession with physical pain appeared almost masochistic to me. Of course he wouldn’t be the first Catholic masochist, and certainly not the first person to view pain as a link with the divine. But what I didn’t see was grace. I’m not much of a theologian, and certainly not much of a Christian one. But Jesus knew his fate, he had accepted it intellectually. I do understand that physical torture takes away our intellectual understanding and acceptance. But at some point I believe Jesus reached a point of grace. I didn’t feel any grace at all in Gibson’s Christ.

And the resurrection – it looked to me like someone had told Gibson, after the film was in the can, “Yo, Mel baby, it’s all kind of meaningless unless you at least mention the resurrection” so a resurrection scene was tacked on at the end. While my husband felt this scene was uplifting, I felt it was a mere afterthought overlaid on Gibson’s passion for suffering.

I left the theater drained. I felt that if Gibson hoped to convey faith, hope, love and forgiveness, he had failed miserably. The physical pain was so overpowering that I didn’t feel Christ’s faith, only his loss of it; I saw no glimmer of hope in the nodding reference to the resurrection; the only love I saw was between Mary and Jesus and that was deeply personal; and ok, yes there was forgiveness. Well, one out of four isn’t too good.

So do I think it was a bad movie? No, I think it’s a great movie. It’s great in that it has done what few movies do – made me think, touched deep emotions, caused great discussions with my husband. It is truly a work of art in that it’s an intensely personal communication – one man’s communication of his beliefs, laid out for all to see. That he didn’t succeed (at least with me) is of little merit. He still said what he wanted to say.

My husband found a wonderful article for me to read by Dennis Prager, in which Prager states:

When watching ‘The Passion,’ Jews and Christians are watching two entirely different films.

For two hours, Christians watch their Savior tortured and killed. For the same two hours, Jews watch Jews arrange for the torture and killing of the Christians’ Savior.

And so it was with me and my husband. We saw different movies, but we were also able to believe and trust in each other’s visions. I was able to share things about myself I had never told him, and in fact and never verbalized before. But I still can’t believe Gibson could be so blind to how Jews would see the movie.

In that way, this is a naïve movie. And that too adds to its personal flavor, and intimacy.