Mel Gibson's variation of the greatest story ever retold is the most critic-proof movie ever made. It has two built-in audiences: the anointed and the appalled, with the disinterested left to roam the multiplex in search of something more secular. Those who believe making it and witnessing it is the ultimate act of devotion will receive what they have come for, a horrific rendering of the death of Jesus (Jim Caviezel, who always looks like he's suffering) that "proves" how great his sacrifice. And those of us who grew up being taunted as "Christ-killers" will see it and wonder whether it will inspire a new wave of anti-Semitism, not that those folks need Mel Gibson to inspire them. But if Gibson is to be taken to task for anything, it's for making only half a movie about Jesus as mere sacrificial symbol. It's too turgid to awe the nonbelievers, too zealous and bloody to inspire, and often too silly to take seriously, with its demonic hallucinations that look like escapees from a David Lynch film.