If Mel Gibson, the star of What Women Want, loves Oksana, he loves himself more – more, perhaps, than even he can say. He is the master of his destiny, as he goes crazier and nastier; and those whom God loves, he sends mad first. It’s a shame that Mel is so possessed, his affinity for dead languages was the key to my heart. In any case, as Mel would say, Quos Deus Vult Perdere, dementat prius.
Perhaps we should not be surprised by his rantings; he is, after all, the man who brought us The Passion of the Christ. He loves himself so much that he’s prepared to give himself to the world, and to take on all our foulness. Although he isn’t so much taking on all our sins, in a paschal lamb way, as much as going through an inventory of everything that’s nasty, and giving it public expression. Thank you, Mr. Gibson.
Mel’s rather violent imagination (see Apocalypto, or, maybe, don’t see it), does echo some ancient cultures. Written, eye-witness accounts of human sacrifice are hard to find. In fact, there seems to be just the one, from Ibn Fadlan, who watched some Vikings say goodbye to a chief, in the Viking way – boats, fires. And a girl has to go with him. She burns too, but not before she’s offered herself to the dead chief’s men, whom she visits in their tents, one by one.
It’s hard to say what part of Mel Gibson’s subconscious provides him with his outpourings; but it sounds like he has some kind of Nordic twilight on his mind. With all this rambling about gang rape and arson, he really does belong to a different, scarier age. Or culture. Or belief system. Or planet.
0 Responses to “Mel Gibson: Way Beyond Thunderdome”