`Jesus Of Montreal' Lives Up To The Hype

``Jesus of Montreal,'' with Lothaire Bluteau, Catherine Wilkening, Johanne-Marie Tremblay, Remy Girard. Written and directed by Denys Arcand. Egyptian Theatre. Rated ``R,'' due to language, nudity. In French, with English subtitles.

It's a rare film that lives up to the hype that precedes it - and ``Jesus of Montreal,'' the latest offering from French-Canadian director Denys Arcand (``The Decline of the American Empire''), comes with more hype than most.

It grabbed an unprecedented dozen Genie Awards (Canada's Oscars) and won top prizes at nine film festivals, including Cannes, Chicago, Montreal and Seattle (where Arcand was chosen best director by the festival audience).

That said, I can only add to viewer expectations. Rich, multifaceted, consummately performed, ingeniously conceived, ``Jesus of Montreal'' is - for my money - the best film of the year. I say that with an unusual confidence that nothing in the next six months will top it. Indeed, it may well be years before there's another movie as funny, harrowing, beautiful and thought-provoking as this one.

Set in contemporary Montreal, it follows four marginally employed actors who revamp a Passion Play that has been staged on the city's Mont Royal for 20 years. ``The text is a bit dated,'' says Father Leclerc (Gilles Pelletier), the jaded priest who asks them to take on the task. ``It needs to be modernized.''

Daniel Coloumbe (Lothaire Bluteau) agrees - and throws himself into the project enthusiastically, incorporating the latest archaeological and historical findings in his drama.

``Are you looking for Jesus?'' a librarian asks him as he does his research. When he says yes, she hints mysteriously, ``It's He who will find you.'' And He does. As Daniel plays ``the Jewish prophet Yeshu Ben Panthera - whom we all call Jesus,'' the role subtly begins to consume him.

For Daniel and his fellow actors, the play is a means of spiritual rescue. To Mireille (Catherine Wilkening) - whose boyfriend believes her talent resides exclusively in her derriere - it offers escape from a vacuous, humiliating fashion model career. For Martin (Remy Girard), it's a way out of dubbing porn films. For Rene, it's an unexpected opportunity to do Hamlet's soliloquy.

Constance (Johanne-Marie Tremblay), an old drama-school pal of Daniel, sees it as a chance to act in a production that's as meaningful as the work she does in a soup kitchen.

The script that Daniel and his colleagues put together raises questions about the prophet's obscure parentage. Was he the illegitimate son of a Roman soldier? Where, exactly, did he live? How old was he when he died?

The resulting play-within-a-film is anything but a parody.

Its acknowledgement of the patchiness of information on its subject, its contemplation of Christ's human frailty, its graphic rendition of the crucifixion process - all add to its eloquence and power. When startled church authorities see only ``blasphemy'' and not the fervor with which the actors have explored the Passion, they confront the performers and tragedy ensues. In the twist of events which follow, the meaning of Christ's life is unexpectedly illuminated.

Bluteau, as Daniel/Christ, brings a spare intensity to his role. Tremblay's Constance is a lovely, cagey, luminous screen presence; while Girard - whose best moment comes during a hilarious porn-dubbing sequence - gives the film its light relief. Pelletier, as a demoralized priest who wants only to maintain the status quo, and Yves Jacques, as a lawyer who contends that there's plenty of money to be made from avant-garde drama, throw skewed perspectives into the moral drama.

Solid support by Wilkening and Lepage and dozens of superb cameo appearances - including Paule Baillargeon (``I've Heard the Mermaids Singing''), Marie-Christine Barrault (``Cousin, Cousine'') and Arcand himself - add to the dazzling, varied texture of the film.

Special praise should go to director of photography, Guy Dufaux, whose nighttime rendering of a dozen crucifixes against a backdrop of city lights sums up the compass of the picture in a single image.

Arcand's screenplay neatly dovetails capitalist icons (the youthful hunks and dishes who inhabit beer and perfume commercials) with Big Bang theory and ancient Roman politics. It subtly evokes the process by which revolutionary spiritual messages are sent and received in a dispirited, dehumanizing society.

The result is a miraculous film about ancient and contemporary miracles, a work of art that puts you through the wringer and leaves you in a state of serene awe.