It's the oldest and best-loved story in the world, and never seems to lose its impact. The story of Jesus' passion and resurrection has been told in hundreds of ways in every Christian culture.

Yet never quite the way it is told in Denys Arcand's Jesus of Montreal.

This stirring film explores what happens when a young actor, Daniel, is petitioned by a priest to revise the script of a play about the stations of the cross. The church had sponsored the play for decades, but in recent years attendance has been low. Daniel (Lothaire Bluteau) then assembles his cast of storytellers from down-and-out underground actors, all with highly unsuccessful day jobs.

Through extensive research, the team discovers information about Jesus is sketchy at best. This revelation underlies the story: everything known is uncertain. The film develops into a strange mix of satire, spirituality and magic.

Arcand creates a dreamy style where play and reality merge. Daniel becomes so enmeshed in his Jesus character that audience members at times get caught up in the spirituality of the play and confuse Daniel for Jesus. In one very powerful scene, a woman from the audience rushes at Daniel in the middle of the play and hugs his knees. Wailing "Jesus, I love you, Jesus," she has to be physically restrained by police guarding the roving performance.

While the overall tone of the film is not one of irreverence, the actors make some drastic claims. For example, some texts they run across assert Jesus was the illegitimate son of a Roman soldier, and that Jesus was a magician. Still, the play draws a mammoth crowd. One particularly keen observer compares crucifixions to highway accidents, an "attraction for the curious," she says.

But the most interesting part of this mesmerizing film is Daniel, the enigmatic man who transforms into a Christ-like, martyr figure. He exposes the world's corruption and hypocrisy without ever appearing self-righteous. Bluteau's Daniel is much like the traditional view of Jesus: wiry, powerful, and, ultimately, willing to sacrifice himself for the benefit of others.

Strange and incredible sequences interspersed among the play segments continue the dreamlike mood. Before play production begins, all the actors visit an exhibit on the universe's origin, and the film screen becomes an explosion of cosmic colors. Speaking over the light show, the program's narrator pulls the viewer deeper into the philosophy of Arcand's film. "The world began without man, and it will end the same way," the man says.

The soundtrack, like everything else in the film, is both riveting and unconventional. During the play sequences, Middle Eastern music sets the mood of Jesus' homeland. At times when the actors face obstacles in performing their art, now becoming an obsession, electric guitar screeches echo their frustration. Framing the film, two women with angelic voices sing a hypnotic hymn. The music doesn't follow a consistent pattern, and is always a surprise and a refreshment.

The entire film provides a chance for introspection, to wonder, "what does it all mean?" Movies so rarely challenge the viewer, Jesus of Montreal is a film that will linger in the mind long after the credits fade.