I grew up on those pious Hollywood biblical epics of the 1950s, which looked like holy
cards brought to life. I remember my grin when Time magazine noted that
Jeffrey Hunter, starring as Christ in King of Kings (1961), had shaved his
armpits. (Not Hunter's fault; the film's crucifixion scene had to be re-shot because
preview audiences objected to Jesus' hairy chest.)
If it does nothing else, Mel Gibson's film will break the tradition of turning Jesus and his
disciples into neat, clean, well-barbered, middle-class businessmen. They were poor men
