They told Him not to do it. But Jesus did it anyway.
When Jesus walked into the Temple complex and saw a teeming market, filled with sheep and doves and graft and corruption, Jesus knew He couldn’t walk past. “Should I stand by while they turn my Father’s house into a place of thievery?” he says. The answer, of course, is no.
And so the tables are literally turned. Money tumbles onto the cobblestones. Sheep make a quick getaway while they can. And members of the Sanhedrin look on, glowering.
“This is a place of worship!” Jesus shouts.
Peter loves his Master. But this bold move, in full view of Jerusalem’s religious authorities? It makes Peter nervous.
John stands beside Peter, beaming. “This is a good thing,” he reassures Peter. High time someone cleansed the Temple. High time someone took on the corrupt and craven elements in the Almighty’s house.
Judas watches as a stray coin rolls by his feet. He steps on a piece of silver—as if to hide it—then quickly bends down and picks it off the stone, happy to add it to the disciples’ small coffers.
Or, perhaps, his own.
Jesus’ act is audacious. Impulsive. One more affront to the religious establishment. One more blemish on Jesus’ record. But it’s far from the worst offense: Already, word has reached Caiaphas, leader of the Jewish Sanhedrin, that Jesus has been making outrageous, blasphemous claims about being the Son of God. Unsubstantiated hearsay, Caiaphas realizes—for now. But such abhorrent allegations cannot go unchallenged.
If Jesus insists on turning over tables, then Jesus Himself must be turned over to the authorities. His claims must be investigated. And if deemed fact, this Jesus must die.
But while Caiaphas and his cadre of priests hope to bring a quick end to Jesus’ affrontery, only Jesus understands that His work, in many ways, is just beginning.
Forget flipping over a few tables: Christ means to turn the world itself on its ear.
The Last Supper is a bit of a misnomer of a title. The movie begins when Jesus feeds the 5,000 and ends well after His Resurrection. As such, we see Jesus perform a handful of miracles and watch as He and His disciples experience the ups and downs of their fateful trip to Jerusalem.
As you’d expect, Jesus serves as the film’s strong moral center. As Peter frets and Judas wrestles with his demons, Jesus heals and jokes and loves like no other, teaching lessons as He goes and righting wrongs wherever He turns.
That, as mentioned, is to be expected. But The Last Supper leans especially hard into Jesus’ love even for His enemies. He washes Judas’ feet, tears in His eyes and already well aware of the betrayal to come. “Very truly I tell you, Judas, there are some stains that water will not wash away,” Jesus says, offering one final warning. Even after He’s captured, Jesus looks at Caiaphas with compassion.
Some treat Jesus and His disciples with a great deal of kindness, too. A follower offers his upper room to the Lord and His followers, and many hands chip in to prepare the Passover meal.
As is recorded in Scripture, Jesus’ disciples are a little all over the place while Jesus is with them—displaying varying levels of fear and selfishness and, above all, confusion. But we are given an opportunity to see Peter, especially, fully stepping into the role that God designed for him.
When you’re talking about a biblically based movie such as The Last Supper, it’s sometimes easier to say what’s not a spiritual element than what is … and honestly, I’m drawing a blank. Every moment in the film is rooted in Christian spirituality—even if not every moment we see here is documented in the Bible.
Oh, the film hews relatively closely to Scripture: When I talked with executive producer Chris Tomlin about the movie, he said that the movie’s adherence to the Bible was a big reason why Tomlin threw his name behind the project.
That said, The Last Supper does contain some departures.
For instance, the Gospels suggests that Judas approached the chief priests and offered to betray Jesus sometime shortly before Passover dinner. In the movie, the priests approach Judas, who initially rejects their overtures (though he’s clearly considering the act in his mind). Only after the pivotal meal does Judas head to Caiaphas’ house to seal the deal and collect his cash.
Narratively, the changes give the storyline a little more intrigue than we find in the more austere biblical narrative. Judas wrestles with his quite literal demons throughout the film (with Satan, manifested as both a snake and an ominous man writhed in shadow, playing on Judas’ pride and fears) and only makes the choice to betray the Christ near the end of the film. But it does represent a tweak to the biblical narrative.
That’s just one example of many minor deviations: A couple of other instances: Judas hangs himself in town, not in a field (as Acts tells us). Satan not only convinces Judas to kill himself, but he tries to get Peter to do the same (when he’s plagued by guilt and shame over his thrice denial of Jesus). Timelines can sometimes be tweaked, and extrabiblical conversations are had. It’s nothing we haven’t seen before in many biblically inspired works. But for those who believe that Scripture should not be added, subtracted or altered in any way, this film will likely be a no-go.
We should also note that The Last Supper brings to the screen a couple of sometimes-overlooked scenes from Jesus’ life, too. For instance, the film introduces its post-Resurrection Jesus as John 21 does—greeting the disciples after they’ve had a poor night of fishing. Jesus tells them to throw the net on the other side of the boat, wherein Peter et al. find themselves with a bountiful catch. Later, as Jesus and the disciples eat a portion of what they’ve caught, He asks Peter three times, “Do you love me?” Christ tells Peter to feed and care for His sheep, marking Peter’s transition from disciple to the Church’s leader. (The movie, meanwhile, skips over Jesus’ appearance to the disciples in a locked room, when they initially took Jesus to be a ghost.)
The Last Supper also gives us a bit more time with the Jewish High Priest Caiaphas. He seems to be both devout and sincere in his faith, albeit misguided: We see him pray in the privacy of his own home. He believes that Jesus is a blasphemer … but he also acknowledges that Jesus is blessed in a remarkable way.
“Oh why, oh Lord, did you give such gifts to this man?” Caiaphas prays. “I have upheld Your laws. I have led Your people. Why, oh Lord, did you not give such gifts to me?”
The film also takes us into the rituals of Passover, including children asking that holy day’s “four questions.” Those details ground the events of The Last Supper more deeply into its Jewish origins.
We see a handful of miracles (including the feeding of the 5,000) and hear about others (such as when Jesus walked on water).
Unless you count a couple of scenes where guys are shirtless, none.
Unlike many other films that portray the last day of Jesus’ mortal life, The Last Supper does not linger on His crucifixion. But the blood, death and cruelty of that day still gets some screen time.
Arguably the film’s most disturbing scene—in part because it’s so unexpected—comes in a sudden vision given to Judas of Jesus being crucified. In a brief flash, Judas sees Jesus’ wrist pierced by a nail, accompanied with a pool of blood. Later, Jesus is beaten badly (with assailants hitting, kicking and whipping him bloody). Moviegoers will see Jesus hanging on the cross, the crown of thorns piercing his head and causing blood to run down his face. And later, we hear people talk about the nail marks in Jesus’ hands and feet.
Peter is determined to defend Jesus after the Last Supper. He takes a sword from its place on the wall and grumbles, “It appears I’m the only one ready to protect the rabbi.” After Judas’ betrayal, Roman soldiers swarm into the Garden of Gethsemane, leading to much pushing, hitting and struggle. Peter takes his sword and takes a swing, slicing off the ear of Malchus, Caiaphas’ servant. We see a bit of blood spew after the swing, and the ear lays on the ground in a small pool of blood. Jesus picks up the ear and miraculously puts it back in place.
Judas’ suicide gets some extended screentime. He hangs himself, and Peter discovers his former follower dangling from a beam. (The camera focuses on Judas’ lifeless legs.) Satan encourages Peter to pick up the rope and follow suit. “Take the rope and join your brother,” Satan whispers. “It is your only redemption, Peter.”
We see glimpses of animal sacrifices in the Temple. Judas accidentally lets his hand dangle in a fire, setting his garment alight.
None, though someone does call Caiaphas a “bloviating whale.”
Jesus, of course, offers His disciples wine, telling them it’s His blood they drink. He also says that “I will not drink from the fruit of the vine again until the kingdom of God comes.”
Disciples act a bit selfishly and cluelessly at times, and Judas betrays Jesus—all of which is documented in the Bible.
As the film opens, Peter mulls over some smooth stones found on the shoreline—rough edges worn away by water.
“Perhaps that’s what I am to Him,” he says. “A rough, unshaped stone, longing to be molded for the great purpose He has set forth for me.”
We see plenty of rough stones in The Last Supper (the first of two entertainment offerings of the same name hitting theaters this Lenten season). Some stones are indeed shaped by the hand of the Almighty. But others hold to their sharp edges—pride, vanity, shame—and so ensure their own downfall.
We’ve seen plenty of films about the Last Supper and the last days of Christ, of course. And this version, while heartfelt, is not all that remarkable in some ways. It hits the right notes. It brings the requisite piety to the party while playing a bit with the biblical details. And with this narrative so familiar to most of us, the question is this: What makes this a version of these events worth watching?
I’d argue that The Last Supper sets itself apart by focusing on its villains.
Caiaphas (played by James Faulkner, who also portrayed the title character in Paul, the Apostle of Christ) and Judas (Robert Knepper) are given three dimensions here. The film does not excuse them. But through their stories, we get a dramatized glimpse of their motivations and ultimate failings.
Judas believes wholeheartedly in Jesus’ divinity: He says so outright. But he also wanted to be great in his own right, and under his own strength. He’s a pragmatic and proud man, unwilling to play second fiddle to anyone—even the Messiah. And speaking of fiddles, Satan plays those weaknesses perfectly, driving him to his doom.
If Judas ultimately sees that he is, indeed, the bad guy, Caiaphas always believes himself to be the hero. He’s the one who’s followed God so faithfully for so many decades. He’s determined to stamp out this latest heresy, even if it means sending Jesus to the cross. But he turns a blind eye to his own manipulations and maneuverings, and he places blinders on himself to avoid the glorious reality right before him.
That pride? That fear? That unshakable faith in what I think is right—even if the facts in front of me scream otherwise? Yeah, I see a little Caiaphas in me. I see a little Judas, too. And Peter—filled with zeal when things are easy and fear when things are not—that’s a part of me, too.
The Last Supper is a narrative reminder that, even with all those faults and potentially destructive traits, Jesus still loves me. He still calls me to leave the pride behind and follow Him, regardless the cost or consequences. He holds out His own scarred hand and asks me—asks us—to take it. To follow. To eat the bread and drink the wine.
Yes, it’s a story we’ve heard before. It’s a story we’ll hear again. But it’s a story that unfolds in myriad ways, and it’s always worth hearing.
Paul Asay has been part of the Plugged In staff since 2007, watching and reviewing roughly 15 quintillion movies and television shows. He’s written for a number of other publications, too, including Time, The Washington Post and Christianity Today. The author of several books, Paul loves to find spirituality in unexpected places, including popular entertainment, and he loves all things superhero. His vices include James Bond films, Mountain Dew and terrible B-grade movies. He’s married, has two children and a neurotic dog, runs marathons on occasion and hopes to someday own his own tuxedo. Feel free to follow him on Twitter @AsayPaul.
Our weekly newsletter will keep you in the loop on the biggest things happening in entertainment and technology. Sign up today, and we’ll send you a chapter from the new Plugged In book, Becoming a Screen-Savvy Family, that focuses on how to implement a “screentime reset” in your family!
