Son of Man. Director: Mark
Dornford-May. Spier Films 2006.
Up until the last scene, Son
of Man should be called Mother of
All, for Mary becomes the self-actualized driving force for all in her
community. If there is any hope for her
neighbors, it is because Mary develops her self-confidence enough to inspire their
hope and influence change. Jesus, on the
other hand, walks through his scenes without much emotion and
deliberation. Contrasting Jesus’ flat
characterization to Mary’s fully developed portrayal; I hope to show how the
film comes very close to portraying female self-actualization.
Let’s quickly review what I have determined (from Abraham
Maslow’s work) to be the three criteria for self-actualizing: 1) know and
accept who you are; 2) resist unhealthy, forced acculturation; and 3)
contribute to a better relationship/world.
First, we see her self-knowledge and acceptance. After a boy angel (presumably Gabriel)
announces to Mary that she will conceive the son of God, Mary—though
initially confused—accepts her role of the mother of the Son of God just as she
later accepts her pregnancy, her marriage, and her son’s birth.
Next, we see Mary resist forced acculturation. Escaping the political decree to murder all
male babies, Joseph and Mary hide with Jesus in the bushes as they watch the
slaughter. After diverting Jesus’s face,
Mary turns him toward the violence. She, unlike Joseph, refuses the paternal
mandate to shield one’s child from violence.
Forcing her son to acknowledge the violence from which she has saved him
and which still exists in this unstable political climate, Mary self-actualizes
away from the forced cultural role of submissive wife and nurturing mother.
From here,
the movie switches its focus to Jesus who gets himself beaten up, killed, and
buried in obscurity. No messiah
here.
Finally, we
see Mary contribute to a better world. After Jesus’ failed ministry, the film
returns to Mary and other mothers of murdered sons and daughters. We assume that it is Mary who has
orchestrated the spectacle of a crucified Jesus (long dead) on a raised
platform. It is Mary who faces down the
armed soldiers. And it is Mary who unites her neighbors to stand against
violence—for peace amidst singing and dancing.
Mary has contributed to a better village life.
Up until
this point, Son
of Man has departed from the
Gospels, portraying no triumphant, immortal Jesus. Instead, it has afforded its
viewers a self-actualized social activist.
The film has depicted Mary as Maya Angelou’s “phenomenal woman.”
Illogically,
the film then abandons Mary’s self-actualization and returns to a more
patriarchal and faithful Gospel agenda—Jesus as messiah. Mysteriously, the once-dead and now,
denim-shirted, immaculately dressed Jesus (who looks like a Golden Corral
employee), along with a slew of child angels, climbs a sandy mound, turns to the
camera, and raises his fist as if in triumph.
Is it a kowtowing to patriarchy or latent faithfulness to the Gospels
that compels the film to save Jesus from ignobility and ludicrously portray him
as its ultimate savior? I can’t
say. And I don’t care why Son of Man, like many Jesus films,
ultimately restricts itself to the message of Jesus as messiah. We hear his undeserved triumphant
song: “The sun in spring
will rise over the mountain. Today we are united. We are one people.” As such,
the film falsely credits Jesus with
unifying the people and for the spring sun’s rising again over the
mountain. Think the end of the first Rocky film. The only difference is that Rocky deserved
his moment in the spring sun but Jesus does not.
If there was ever a film that
rewarded you for watching the credits, it’s Son of Man. As the film’s credits roll, a quote appears from Genesis
1.26: “And God said, ‘Let us make man in our own image, after our own
likeness.” How, exactly, does the film
support this? And then, photos. As if aware of
its own Jesus/Mary saviors contradictions, the film returns to female agency
with photo after photo of women and children: playing, cutting hair, retrieving
water, etc.—all peaceful activities. Photographically,
women and children empower their village’s hope and future. The film returns to female agency. I
leave my viewing convinced that whether it’s patriarchy or religion that
attempts to overshadow her potency is irrelevant. Rather, what haunt and inspire are the images
of the village women who effect a peaceful change. I slip the DVD back into its case and glance
at the cover. Without thought, I find
myself returning the smile of the film’s most illustrious of those women—a self-actualizing
Mary.
