Dennis Potter's secular retelling of the story of Christ, Son of Man (The
Wednesday Play, BBC tx. 16/4/1969) eschews most of its standard representational
elements. There are no miracles, no resurrection, no Mary Magdalene, no Last
Supper and no thirty pieces of silver. In their place it offers an occasionally
violent, frequently fascinating dramatisation, focusing on the psychological
underpinnings of the characters. It opens with a powerful juxtaposition: Jesus
in the wilderness, shivering in an agony of self-doubt, while religious
agitators in the city are murdered by the Romans during a mass gathering.
Colin Blakeley is a gruff and often combative Jesus, consumed by both
uncertainty about his own divine destiny and his overwhelming need to deliver a
message of universal love. His ambivalent and contradictory feelings are
crystallised in the ten-minute sequence set around the crucifixes when he
finally seals his own fate and tells his disciples to let the people of
Jerusalem know that he is coming, and that he is their true Messiah. There is
also humour to be found in the scene however, when Christ clutches a cross and
exclaims "It's good timber, this!"
Judas (splendidly played by Edward Hardwicke) is presented as an essentially
loving but timorous and weak-willed figure, unable to stand up to Caiaphas
(Bernard Hepton) the High-Priest, who himself, at the end, displays
uncertainties about his actions, while the dissolute Pilate (Robert Hardy) is
clearly also unnerved when Jesus tells him not to be afraid.
Provocatively shown just after Easter 1969, the play met with little
controversy or resistance, perhaps due to its evidently low budget. Potter later
expressed regret that it was "shot on video in three days in an electronic
studio on a set that looks as though it's trembling and about to fall down".
While there are numerous technical infelicities (the boom microphone is clearly
visible in one shot when Christ speaks to his disciples at the cross), the
production nonetheless has a powerful starkness, a quality enhanced by the total
absence of music. This also made the script eminently suitable for stage
adaptation, the first of which premiered six months after the television
broadcast. Potter's theatre version has a less cruel conclusion, with Christ
crying "It is accomplished", instead of the chilly finale of the BBC version, in
which there is only silence after Christ's dying utterance, "Why have you
forsaken me?"
Sergio Angelini
|