The Plot:
As a small but spectacular orchestra plays the soaring, sweeping Handel score, director William Klein juxtaposes shots from America and the rest of the world over the sacred sentiments. During the Nativity section of the piece, we see endless shots of Las Vegas - Sin City itself - as evangelists prepare to march and pray. During the Passion sequence, we witness actual scenes from a Spanish production of the fabled crucifixion play - along with some bodybuilders for Christ. As the Resurrection portion proceeds, scenes of a man being stabbed in the streets of an African village are matched with arcane and odd images of peasants going about their daily lives. What does it all mean? What indeed, since director Klein is not helping or giving away any hints. In his hands, Messiah becomes both a musical performance (the musicians and soloists are just phenomenal) and a comment on what Handel was celebrating some three centuries ago. The life of Christ seems to have significance to many in the modern world. Klein's piece obviously wants to challenge as well as champion such a concept. Sometimes he succeeds. In other instances, his message gets muddles in evocative but evasive images.

The DVD:
In many ways, this is as much Klein's Messiah as it is Handel's. True there is no denying the pomp and power of the composer's onerous opus. It is a hefty, hearty piece, populated by sequences of sublime beauty as well as overdone dramatics. The famed "Hallelujah" chorus with its responsorial repetition is really a very minor part of what is a moving, stirring and occasionally frustrating celebration of Jesus Christ. Part of the problem with an oratorio is that it is meant to be a sort of sermon, a chance for an artist to get his or her point across in booming, sonic waves. In Handel's case, his is a clear calling to Christianity, a Bible belting blast of evangelism meant to fan the faithful and inspire the indecisive. When performed by a huge symphonic orchestra swollen with strings and singers, the music looses a lot of its fierceness. Instead of fire and brimstone we get excesses of volume and voice.

Here, in the hands of a much smaller, more intimate ensemble, The Messiah simply melts. Languid melodies move across their nimble notations as lush, supple sounds support their movement. Violins blend effortless with other instruments, creating a kind of ethereal plain of harmonious holiness. On top of this, individual singers stand out, delivering Handel's English language lyrics (he wrote most of the piece while in London) in sequences of sheer beauty. In one of the wisest decisions ever for a "visualization" of this piece, Klein holds the camera on several of the soloists, watching their face as they put their talent to the test. It is spellbinding. Equally effective are moments when we leave the studio setting and head out into the real world. There, a gay and lesbian choir from New York, a prison choral filled with felons, a rehab center vocal group as well as a collection of Dallas police officers offers their own amazing variations on Handel's set piece sequences.

Had it just been this, a collection of different choruses providing their version of The Messiah, Messiah would be a remarkable film. Klein obviously doesn't understand the kind of cine-magic that occurs when a gospel group performs a complicated reconfiguration of one of the oratorio's main themes. To see how individuals from a different culture and race respond to this music, how they find their own way down into the core of the Messiah's message is just stunning. Even for those with shaky voices or who produce less than professional results (the prisoners are a proud but rather off-key bunch), the pure spiritual bliss of the music just moves them, inspiring levels of artistry far and above their personal best. Had he simply stuck with these individuals, we'd have a certified Yuletime classic. Unfortunately, Klein has some additional dimensions to explore, and it is here where Messiah starts to get murky. While some of the visuals are indeed complimentary to the sentiments being sung, there are frequent flaws - and some outright reaching - in a few of this filmmaker's directorial decisions.

It takes a while for the Vegas material to register. As the vocalists celebrate the birth of Jesus, we see shots of the strip and Trump's tacky Taj Mahal. Eventually, the concepts click, and a pseudo Sodom and Gomorrah setup becomes clear. As the converted gather together to begin their preaching, we suddenly understand the combination of elements. Similarly, the actual Passion play visuals strike a solemn tone for the accompanying choral. But what are we to make of shots of astronauts, of individuals brutalizing their fellow man with sticks and knives, or of beefed up Bible thumpers breaking blocks of ice? Context is important to any attempted commentary, since you need to know the background and the circumstances before even the most simplistic images register. None is offered for the arcane footage Klein is foisting upon us. There are hints at the corrupting influences of capitalism and the rapid Westernization of the rest of the world. But instead of making sense, Messiah gets mired in the meaningless, accentuating the weird and wild for the straightforward and telling.

The end result is a mixed bag of compelling music and perplexing pictures. For every sequence like the solemn opening, which sees a half-naked singer celebrating the arrival of the savior in an arid desert setting, we get sped up footage of cars crossing an intersection. Contrasting classical images of Christ with commercialized iconography seems simple enough, but what does a Paris Christmas party for the homeless have to do with anything? Blood is backed up against the banal, standard performance scenes are stuck between scenic slices of architecture and morality. Instead of transcending its origins and its elements, The Messiah itself suffers, acting as a substantive soundtrack for a rather weak collection of concepts. Klein is a gifted filmmaker - on their own, the visuals here are vibrant and alive - but when contrasted against Handel and his honorable histrionics, we get a bit of a bungle. While still a recommended recital, William Klein's Messiah is not the timeless treasure that people will value for centuries to come. Instead, it is too of its time (1999), and too attached to its post-modern messages to translate into something classic.

The Video:
Another irritating aspect of this Koch Lorber presentation is that it is offered in a foul full frame presentation that completely distorts Klein's compositions. Heads are consistently cut off and images appeared stretched out and misshapen. The packaging states that the film is offered in a 1.66:1 anamorphic widescreen setup, but every DVD player in this critic's home (all SEVEN of them) played it at 1.33:1 - and there was no changing that fact via programming or Menu manipulation. The picture is pretty good - definitely of a made for foreign television type that has a lot of flatness to its features - but the lack of a true 16x9 version is disturbing as well as destructive of the film's imagery.

The Audio:
Thankfully, the Dolby Digital Stereo 5.1 Surround mix more than makes up for the lousy video elements. Handel's oratorio has never sounded better in this smaller, more intimate configuration and the channels chime in with amazing spatial fullness throughout. All the voices are pristine and polished, and the incidental sounds are subdued and subtle. This is a great aural offering (there is a 2.0 Stereo setup as well), and since it's the music that really matters, we can walk away satisfied.

The Extras:
Unless you count the automatic ads and trailers one if forced to flip through to get to the main menu, Fox Lorber offers no bonus features here whatsoever. It's hard to say if the film really needs them, however. A commentary might clarify things, but that's about all we could or should expect. And since it seems pretty obvious that Klein is going for a more obtuse and impressionistic version of the piece, he may not be open to clear and concise explanations either. While a few added elements might aid in the marketing of this title, they don't seem that necessary to the overall DVD packaging.

Final Thoughts:
A gal getting her stomach tattooed with yet another series of Christ images. Holy statues parading down old world village streets. Showgirls offering complimentary passes to the evening's review as slot jockeys pump their life savings into true one-armed bandits. Somehow, these images just don't illustrate or even suggest Handel's holy Messiah...and perhaps that is William Klein's main point. Maybe he wants to take away the baroque bombast from the usually overdone opus and bring it back to the people, where it belongs. It is possible that when he thinks of this sonically simplistic piece, these are indeed the inner pictures he sees. Could be he's just off his aesthetic rocker. Whatever the case may be, as a tone poem, Messiah is more free verse than Shakespeare sonnet. It sits on the border between a straightforward rating of Recommended and a decidedly "higher" score. But since the DVD has its flaws (especially in the visual tech sense) and the images are often as arcane as Handel's harmonies, a standard evaluation is acceptable. If you are looking for a new holiday tradition, this varied version of The Messiah just might fit the bill. But devotees to the original work will be more bewildered than beguiled.

Want more Gibron Goodness? Come to Bill's TINSEL TORN REBORN Blog (Updated Frequently) and Enjoy! Click Here