A Passion for Rivalry in Brazil

Long before the words “Passion” and “blockbuster” ever appeared in the same sentence, Jesus’ final hours were already adding up to boffo box office here in New Jerusalem.

For more than half a century, hordes of pilgrims, tourists and groupies have flocked to this corner of northeastern Brazil during Holy Week to witness a reenactment of Christ’s crucifixion and resurrection so spectacular that it costs $1 million to stage. With 500 actors, some special effects and nine colossal sets evoking ancient Jerusalem, the outdoor production has blossomed from one family’s impromptu street performance into the largest religious extravaganza in the world’s biggest Roman Catholic country.

But in a clash between tradition and innovation, the sacred and the allegedly profane, the “Passion of Christ” has in recent years begotten a well-publicized spat with one of its ex-stars, a disgruntled former Jesus who started up a rival show and accuses his previous employers of selling their souls to big business.

That business would be TV Globo, Brazil’s largest commercial television network, which not only is the most generous benefactor of the “Passion of Christ” but also supplies famous actors, usually from its nighttime soap operas, to fill key roles. This year’s lead, for example, is 26-year-old Thiago Lacerda, a dark-haired heartthrob with a decidedly messianic effect on his young female followers, who swoon at the sight of him -- often at inappropriate points in the play.

“At the moment Christ is crucified, he wears a small loincloth and the girls scream hysterically, ‘Cutie, cutie, take it off!’ ” sniffs Jose Pimentel, who organized the breakaway pageant and continues to play a now somewhat long-in-the-tooth Jesus. “People who want to view a sacred spectacle aren’t going there anymore.”

But Robinson Pacheco, the producer of Nova Jerusalem’s spectacle, brushes off such criticism.

“The Crucifixion scene is so powerful that the girls forget they’re watching an actor in a loincloth,” Pacheco declares. “When Jesus says he is thirsty, no one’s looking at anybody’s naked legs any longer.”

Pacheco is the son of the late Plinio Pacheco, the man whose grand obsession gave birth to Nova Jerusalem here in Brazil’s rugged, poverty-stricken interior, about 100 miles inland from Recife, the capital of Pernambuco state.

The original production, in 1951, was inspired by a magazine article on the Passion play at Oberammergau, in Germany. For tunics, the family members wore bedsheets from their hotel and paraded through the little town of Fazenda Nova nearby. The affair was a makeshift street show, the audience some curious townsfolk.

But Pacheco dreamed big. In 1962, he envisioned a grandiose reproduction of ancient Jerusalem. It took 36 years to build what is today a vast open-air theater on 25 acres, surrounded by Roman-like stone walls with 70 watchtowers.

The realistic, life-size sets include an arid, wind-swept Calvary, King Herod’s sumptuous palace and a Last Supper room worthy of Leonardo da Vinci’s painting. When Pontius Pilate comes to his forum to interrogate Jesus, he arrives in a horse-drawn Roman chariot. The audience -- which numbered 70,000 last year -- migrates on foot at least 100 yards from one set to the next, standing to watch each scene unfold.

The prerecorded dialogue and soaring music blast from a sound system suitable for a rock concert. In addition to the 500 extras and minor actors, about 450 locals are employed as technical staff, from lighting the scenes to sewing costumes to cranking the pulley contraption that hoists Jesus into the air for his ascension.

That the play, which is performed every night during the week before Easter, should be such a hit is not surprising, given the devoutness of the people in this region.

But things started getting trickier when the implacable world of secular commercial interests started to intrude on the intimate world of religious amateur dramatics.

As audiences declined in the 1990s, Pacheco decided it was time to bolster the ancient story of the son of God with the modern gods of mass entertainment. That meant boosting production values and inviting TV Globo into the fold as a partner, which gave the play its big-name actors and the platform from which to launch a national publicity campaign.

The show now boasts six corporate sponsors -- to the tune of $135,000 each -- eager for access to the faithful to advertise dairy products and laundry detergent on theater programs and on banners outside the faux Roman walls. Other companies making sales pitches to the multitudes include Sao Braz coffee (“A passion for flavor”) and a shopping center in nearby Caruaru (“Our passion is you”).

Pimentel, who had worked his way up from Pilate to Jesus -- a role he played from 1978 to 1996 -- was dumped in favor of a younger, hunkier actor. Rather than turn the other cheek, he indignantly resigned and set up his rival production in a soccer stadium in Recife.

With cheaper ticket prices and a few pyrotechnic effects to boot, his version drew tens of thousands of spectators annually until a soccer championship forced him to find a new venue three years ago.

The performance, which costs $120,000 to stage, now takes place for free in a public plaza in Recife’s colonial district. Although tens of thousands are expected, Pimentel acknowledges that it may take a miracle for the play to survive beyond this year without the level of corporate backing the Nova Jerusalem production receives.

He insists that his pageant remains the more dramatic rendition, the more faithful to Christian tradition and truer to the home-grown spirit of the original production. As director, Pimentel chooses only unknown local actors for the leading roles. He’s still Jesus.

“An artist is ageless -- that doesn’t worry me,” Pimentel, who is at least in his 50s, says to objections that he is too old for the part. “It will only worry me when I’m no longer able to support acting for two hours or to carry the cross....

“They can bring Globo’s handsomest actor and he won’t be better than me as Christ,” Pimentel adds. “They may be cute, but they don’t transmit [Christ’s] suffering to the public.”

But Lacerda, the matinee idol who is this year’s Jesus in Nova Jerusalem, is not just a pretty face atop a muscular, 6-foot-4-inch frame. He interpreted the role of Christ for two years in another Passion play north of Nova Jerusalem and last year in a stage version of Nobel Prize-winning author Jose Saramago’s “The Gospel According to Jesus Christ.”

“I’ve lived with this story for four years, studying this character,” Lacerda says. “I had a Catholic education. I grew up in the Catholic religion.”

He dislikes having to lip-sync his lines to the prerecorded soundtrack. Even more, he dislikes having to concentrate to stay in character when teenage fans scream as his tunic is ripped open for flogging, or as his broken -- and bare-chested -- body is lowered from the cross into the arms of his sobbing mother. With squealing girls and popping flashbulbs, his stumbling progress through the crowd on the Via Dolorosa seems more like a walk down the Oscars red carpet. “I’m suffering with the cross, and people are saying, ‘Look here -- turn around -- smile!’ ” he says. “You want to say: ‘Shut up! I’m working here! I’m sad!’ ”

Even at more innocuous moments, Lacerda’s admirers can barely control themselves.

“What a hottie!” screamed one girl as Jesus -- fully clothed -- lifted the bread and wine to be blessed by God during the Last Supper.

The show’s producers happily acknowledge that Lacerda’s celebrity pulls in the crowds. They readily trade on his broody glamour, with billboards showing his long hair carefully coiffed, his tunic neatly pressed and his eyes intense with a smoldering, come-unto-me look.

In any case, says director Carlos Reis, the “Passion of Christ” is theater and should be seen as such, not as a devotional or evangelistic exercise.

“We don’t do religion. We do theater. This is a spectacle,” says Reis, the show’s Jesus through most of the ‘70s. He now plays Herod.

“A person who wants to practice his Christian faith should look for a church.”