El que debe morir

I saw HE WHO MUST DIE in Edinburgh, Scotland (1957). No film relating to Jesus Christ, before or since, has had such an emotional/spiritual impact on me. Its imaginative plot (preparations made in a small Greek village for a Passion Play during the Turkish occupation of Greece) has some affinity to biblical events leading to Jesus' crucifixion. Powerful in presentation, it never gets excessively sentimental or superficial as do typical "Hollywood" religious productions, nor as sadistically brutal as Gibson's THE PASSION OF THE CHRIST. I've not seen a film about Jesus, or related to Jesus, that I like, not one ... except HE WHO MUST DIE. Brilliantly conceived and executed, it is one of the finest films ever made! I wish I could find it on VHS.

I remember this film so vividly. When the lights of the theater came on at the film's conclusion, people were not merely wiping their eyes- - they were sobbing! Perhaps I was adolescent then, but I remember the movie as being one of the finest films I had ever seen. How, oh how, can I see this film again?

Rather than go the usual Hollywood biblical epic route, this Good Friday I opted for an alternative "Communist" view of the tale of the Christ via 2 European films made by exiled American film-makers: Edward Dmytryk's British-made GIVE US THIS DAY aka Christ IN CONCRETE (1949) and the French film under review – both of which, incidentally, also share blacklisted screenwriter Ben Barzman. Naturally, neither of these movies is located in Roman-ruled Judea or features crucifixions and, in fact, they are allegorical in nature and modernized in setting. Celebrated Greek novelist Nikos Kazantzakis – on whose book "Christ Recrucified" Dassin's film was based – would die the same year HE WHO MUST DIE was released and is himself perhaps best-known for another controversial work on similar lines, "The Last Temptation Of Christ", that was filmed much later by fervently Catholic film-maker Martin Scorsese. Set in 1921 in a small Greek village under Turkish rule during Passion Week, the film deals with the moral dilemma caused by the arrival in town of a group of Greek fugitives led by their priest (Jean Servais) – the survivors of a nearby village that was burned to the ground by the Turks. The majority of the townspeople, headed by the fearsome local priest Grigoris (Fernand Ledoux) and the wealthy mayor (Gert Frobe), refuse them any help lest they be judged traitors by the Turks, but a handful are sympathetic to the fugitives' plight: Maurice Ronet (as Forbe's hesitant son), Melina Mercouri (as the popular local widow-whore) and Pierre Vanek (as a simple shepherd in Frobe's employ). HE WHO MUST DIE marked a departure for Dassin who, leaving behind his tried-and-tested noir territory in which he had excelled until then, goes straight for Art in this powerful but heavy-going drama. The villagers are deep in preparation for the annual Passion pageant on Good Friday (a tradition that is still highly popular in my neck of the woods – in fact, I had an uncle and a good friend of mine who both used to take part in local representations of this sort many years ago!) when the harassed band of countrymen pass through their town; needless to say, the resulting heated confrontations makes everybody forget all about the play but the Christ saga soon enacts itself in real-life in the person of the stuttering shepherd (who, unsurprisingly, had been the one chosen to portray Jesus in the first place). The reteaming of Servais and Carl Mohner (as a chief member of the fugitive group) – both from Dassin's legendary caper RIFIFI (1955) – could not have been more different, nor (the future Mrs. Dassin) Melina Mercouri's portrayal here – despite the surface similarities – of the proverbial "whore with a heart of gold" than that of her most famous role in Dassin's popular hit, NEVER ON Sunday (1960)! This unholy mélange of patriotism and sensuality – not to mention Communist solidarity and Christian hypocrisy – cannot fail to give rise to impressive sequences and performances (particularly a white-haired Frobe and the enigmatic 'Blond Christ' Vanek) along the way but also, at least, one major deficiency: the villagers' avowed fear of Turkish retaliation if they aid the fugitives – especially as displayed via the overstated performance of Ledoux as a vindictive Patriarch – rings false when set against the laid-back personality of the Turkish Agha (Gregoire Aslan), perennially clad in pyjamas, seemingly uninterested in anything that happens around him and perfectly happy (until the finale, that is) to let his Christian subjects fight it out amongst themselves! Likewise, the melodramatic tussles over Mercouri's favors, between the awkward, pacifist Vanek and the robust, violent Roger Hanin, seem intended to give the film an extra touch of Greek tragedy more than anything else. Nevertheless, I am grateful to have been provided with an opportunity to check out this elusive Dassin film, and also very glad that it was by way of such a (surprisingly) pristine widescreen copy.

When I saw this movie as a teenager, I felt I had experienced an ultimate moment in movie-going. How such a story could be so convincingly and moving portrayed has remained a talisman throughout my life. Still, at age 60, I regard this film as among the two or three finest films of all time.

Let's suppose Jesus Christ returned to modern times. What would be the fate that befalls him? That is the question that the great writer Nikos Kazantzakis (1883-1957) poses in his deeply moving novel "The Greek Passion", brilliantly realized by black-listed director Jules Dassin in the film "He Who Must Die".

The story's answer to this question was not to the liking of the Greek Orthodox Church, who promptly excommunicated the author Kazantzakis, who also wrote the novels "Zorba the Greek", "The Last Temptation of Christ", and "Saint Francis", among other works. (He is rumored to have been nominated 5 times for the Nobel Prize for Literature.) This tale is about much more than a religious passion play put on in a Greek village towards the end of the 400-year Turkish occupation. In a century in which religious morality and the church's real-politics have been severely criticized, this tale hits us right between the eyes. Definite food for thought. Could the church's silence in the face of so much unspeakable evil during the 20th century be one reason that religious thought has become largely irrelevant in our daily lives (politics, business, diplomacy, etc). A solid philosophical perspective is found in Robert Boldt's brilliant review (above).

Why this film has not been released on video is totally beyond me -- a nice DVD would certainly be appreciated--especially now, when more and more of Jules Dassin's work is being restored and released (especially on the Criterion label).