It's no secret that big talent can often accompany an even bigger wad of jerkiness. Thank heavens for that, as it makes it much easier for us to look down on our betters by imagining they go home at night to yell at their animals and not recycle.
So it turns out Mel Gibson is a jerk.
Possibly he's two or three jerks combined in one body, which would explain why he's always out of breath. What to make, then, of stuff like 2006's Apocalypto, which he produced, directed and cowrote?
In the twilight of Maya civilization, young hunter Rudy Youngblood's village is attacked by slavers. With his wife and kid trapped in a sinkhole, Youngblood will have to escape human sacrifice and elude a band of pursuers to get them out alive.
Fresh on the heels of The Passion of the Christ, a movie that made more money than T.W. Money, the inventor of cash, Gibson apparently decided to try the whole "die as a pauper" thing. Apocalypto was made with a then-unknown cast speaking a Maya dialect. More Americans probably speak Klingon than Maya. This movie's built-in opening day audience was whoever passed out in the theater the night before.
When they woke up and yarked into the nearest trash can, it was to something Quentin Tarantino called a "masterpiece." I wouldn't go that far, but Gibson and cowriter Farhad Safinia dish up grimy action, a thrilling extended foot chase, and a story that subverts dramatic conventions as much as it employs them.
More important yet: beheadings and heart-rippings.
As a fan of violence -- and not just the cinematic kind, lest you dare criticize my juvenile taste -- few things can top a good heart-ripping. Here, in accordance with tradition, the victim remains conscious long enough to witness his own de-heartification. I'm still awaiting scientific inquiry into whether this is plausible.
But even this isn't just a dumb "Dude, that's his heart!" scene. Gibson inserts a little history with the priest's advanced knowledge of an upcoming eclipse, then buckles our knees with a serious curveball by one of the supporting actors.
The larger arc is more predictable, but fits well with Apocalypto's idea of preserving yourself through core values even when wider society's gone all head-choppingly nuts.
In light of recent events, Gibson's core values probably have more in common with the hooting organ-plunderers atop their fancy ziggurats, but his message is universal and fairly subtle.
I can't say if he deserves a comeback, but he's got the talent for one.
* Contact Ed Robertson at edwrobertson@gmail.com
