Reflections on The Mission: A Review
Reflections on The Mission: A Review
Some time ago, I wrote about the soundtrack to The Mission, expressing my admiration for its haunting beauty. When I watched the film, I found it to be deeply moving, a work that touched me on a profound emotional and spiritual level. At its core, the film carries strong influences from Christian anarchism, particularly its unwavering commitment to pacifism. However, like many works with a strong ideological bent, it is not without its flaws.
The film is, fundamentally, a portrayal of Christian missionary work. In this respect, it mirrors the historical errors of many Christian missionaries by underestimating the wisdom and spirituality already present in indigenous cultures. The narrative frames the Christian mission in South America as a largely positive force, which, in the eyes of modern viewers, may feel deeply problematic. This critique is not directed at the spiritual core of Christianity, which emphasizes love and humility, but at historical practices that, at times, overlooked the deep wisdom of indigenous cultures. The film’s perspective is firmly rooted in Christian theology and worldview, which at times blinds it to the richness and validity of other cultural paradigms.
Yet, from a Christian perspective, I found the film to be an immensely powerful experience. It led me to reflect on pacifism—an ideal that has long been a guiding principle in my life. For many years, I was a staunch and uncompromising pacifist. While I still hold pacifist convictions, my stance has softened into one that refrains from judgment toward those who see things differently.
This film resonates with humanity’s dual nature. On the one hand, we see our capacity to transcend our baser instincts and touch the divine, as embodied by the sublime music of Mozart, Bach, Beethoven, and Schubert. The Mission captures this beautifully, using music as a testament to human spirituality and our connection to something greater than ourselves.
On the other hand, the film starkly portrays humanity’s darker side—the ape with weapons, capable of atrocities far beyond the cruelty of any other creature. The depths of this darkness are exemplified by the Holocaust, an unspeakable tragedy that stands as one of humanity's greatest horrors. While the Holocaust is unique in its systematic nature and scale, it is a painful reminder of how cruel humans can be. Sadly, this is not an isolated event in history. The brutal colonization of the Americas, as depicted in the film, is another example of this devastating capacity for violence and dehumanization.
Confronting this aspect of humanity is profoundly unsettling. The sheer scale and nature of such atrocities shake one's faith in the idea that pacifism can ever fully prevail in a world capable of such cruelty. These reflections are not a rejection of pacifism but an acknowledgment of its profound challenges in the face of humanity’s darker tendencies.
The film’s ending is extraordinarily moving, offering a vision of pacifist resistance that few in history have embodied—figures like Jesus and Gandhi come to mind. Yet, this vision is bittersweet. Upon further research, I learned that while the film’s depiction of violence and oppression is historically accurate, the story of such profound pacifist resistance in that time and place is not. The filmmakers could not find a true story from this era that mirrored the ideals they wished to portray.
This realization does not diminish the film’s power but rather underscores the rarity—and the difficulty—of living up to such ideals. True pacifism, the kind shown in the film’s climactic moments, is an extraordinary path, one that demands almost superhuman strength. It is this awareness of its difficulty that makes me less judgmental of those who cannot walk it.
The Mission is a flawed but deeply spiritual film. Its music, imagery, and themes invite us to grapple with questions of faith, violence, and the human condition. While it may falter in its cultural framing, it succeeds in inspiring reflection—on our capacity for grace and our propensity for destruction. Above all, it reminds us of the fragile, often heartbreaking tension between these two sides of our nature.
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