“Ah,” sighed William Spaaij, “I wanted one more time.” At The Passion (KRO-NCRV) they do not shy away from unconventional choices in the narration of Jesus' passion (having Pontius Pilate sing the song Zwart Wit by Frank Boeijen, for example, or having Jesus play a game of indoor football with his disciples), but of course there are limits. Jesus only died once on the cross, and the best man did so on Maundy Thursday. So after Spaaij had performed his leading role on Thursday evening, there was little choice but to reflect in the chat program Passion Talk (KRO-NCRV) on how the musical actor had experienced being publicly adored, betrayed and crucified during the annual TV spectacle.
Spaaij turned out not to be the only Messiah in the room. Presenter Klaas van Kruistum had his guests complete The Passion Test (set up by the Protestant Church in the Netherlands) and wanted to share his own results. “I look like Jesus,” he said with satisfaction. Just like 36 percent of the people who completed the test at home. “We are all very close to Jesus,” said the pleased pastor Anne-Meta Kobes, who earlier in the program had referred to a Bible story in which Jesus healed a paralyzed man. “And in the Bible, being paralyzed is a symbol of, say, a burnout: you no longer know what to do next.”
This was reminiscent of the language used by writer Kluun, who took on the role of narrator during The Passion and continued to frantically translate aspects of the story into the present. Several figures in the Biblical story were “canceled.” Pilate “dropped fake news.” Judas was “a real alpha male.”
The Easter story still counts, was the message. It would have shown more confidence in the spectators if they had been allowed to figure out for themselves what exactly the relevance was. The public can do that, as became clear when a number of people were interviewed who walked along during the procession and carried the large, luminous cross together. This activity had a personal meaning for them, they explained: it allowed them to bear their suffering (caused by illness or the death of a loved one) together. And that made it lighter.
Grandma's deepfake
Yet many people in the Netherlands walk around alone with such suffering. One in five people never talk about death, it was emphasized in Focus (NTR). That often makes grieving a lonely process – and it is already so difficult when a loved one dies. Petra Grijzen therefore wondered what techniques were currently available in the field of bereavement and came across deep therapy, in which deepfakes are used to allow people to talk to (an artificial version of) a deceased person one last time. Moving images are created using photos and artificial intelligence, while a therapist records the deepfake.
Grijzen herself spoke to her deceased grandmother. “How nice to see you,” said Grijzen, “and also a bit sad” – she immediately started crying, while her grandmother reassured her with an unknown voice. It was a nice, but one-off conversation. According to scientists and therapists, the deepfake was supposed to be a step in the healing process, not a way to stay in permanent contact with the dead. Because therein lies the risk of the technology: that a mourner clings to the artificial contact, and the grieving process is actually made more difficult.
A bright spot: The Passion may end with Jesus' crucifixion, but prolonged mourning will not be necessary. In a day or so, he should be up and running again, and on May 9 he will sail to heaven live on TV during The Passion Ascension (tagline: “The Easter story continues”). Will also like Spaaij.
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