The long-term effects in Hollywood of the unprecedented success of Mel Gibson's The Passion of the Christ remain to be seen. In the short term, one thing we can look for is marketers looking for ways to capitalize on that film's success by finding any possible point of contact between the film they're advertising and Gibson's box-office behemoth.

Classical costume dramas, religiously themed films, even films with subtitles will be marketed to Passion audiences as Another Movie You Might Also Be Interested In.

Whatever future marketing tieins might crop up, it's hard to imagine any being more blatant or shameless than the first for Bobby Jones: Stroke of Genius, which loses no time reminding us that its star, Jim Caviezel, played Jesus in the year's highest-grossing film to date: “His passion … made him … a legend.”

Of course the film itself can't be blamed for this shameless marketing tie-in. Still, the connection seems ironic, on several levels. Caviezel's earlier film has been called one of the most brutal films of the year; Bobby Jones: Stroke of Genius might turn out to be one of the gentlest. The Passion focused on a savage execution; Bobby Jones is about that least-violent and confrontational of all competitive sports, tournament golf.

Also, where The Passion will likely stand as the year's most widely seen film, Bobby Jones seems destined to reach only a tiny audience of serious golf fanatics and dedicated Jim Caviezel fans. (Last weekend Bobby Jones not only debuted outside the top 10, but it also was edged out of 15th place by the aging Passion.)

Still, the star and year of release aren't the only points of contact between Bobby Jones and The Passion. Both films are reverently respectful portraits of a real-life person who endured physical sufferings in the course of pursuing his life's work and achieved something unique. As Caviezel reported one fan commenting, in a Georgia accent, during the shooting of Bobby Jones, “Y'all just got done playin' the Messiah, now you're playin' the messiah of golf.” Unquestionably, it's an infinite step down — but then anything would be.

In purely mortal terms, Bobby Jones was a singular individual. He has been called the greatest golfer who ever lived. He's also been called the last great amateur, and his crowning achievement, the Grand Slam of golf tournaments (the U.S. Open, the British Open, the U.S. Amateur and the British Amateur), not only has never been duplicated but isn't even a possibility for professionals such as Tiger Woods.

To top it off, Jones achieved this before turning 30 while suffering from an undiagnosed neurological disorder that caused him excruciating pain. Then he retired from tournament play at 28 and went on with his life.

Even in his own day, Jones was a bit of an oddity as an amateur. In one scene he hotly defends his amateur status, pointing out that “amateur” means one who loves, and what one does for pay one is no longer doing for love.

This is a high-minded ideal, but the film also suggests that golf is a harsh mistress whom even the most favored might pursue for years not only without winning her but even without taking much joy or satisfaction in the pursuit. Bobby might play for love, but he doesn't seem to play for pleasure. In fact, he's prone to blowing his top when he's losing.

Losing is a fact of life in any sport. But golf seems especially unkind, even to its top contenders. In April, for example, Tiger Woods placed 22nd at the Masters. This was a disappointment, certainly, for the player widely regarded as the best in the world. But how often does a player such as Serena Williams or a team like the Lakers or the Yankees finish outside the top 20?

My companion at the movies the night I saw Bobby Jones, who has some experience with golf, described his impression of the game as a sport seemingly deliberately designed to be so hard that no one could ever play it well consistently. “You can never be good enough for golf” was his comment. (Since the game in its present form developed in Scotland, home of Presbyterian Calvinism, I'm almost tempted to hypothesize some kind of reflection of Calvinist sensibilities regarding the impossibility of pleasing God — though I'll be happy to hear otherwise from some knowledgeable Catholic golf aficionado.)

Still, I see my companion's point. Think of other sports involving some kind of target or goal — soccer, archery, basketball, darts. There's a certain relationship between the size of the target and the scale of the field of play with the physical powers of the players that golf goes wildly beyond. In golf, the target is so minute and far away and the field of play so enormous and unforgiving that the sheer scale seems to me at least almost inhuman somehow.

By now, of course, it will be obvious that — in contrast to the subject of Caviezel's last film — when it comes to golf, I'm not a true believer. Those who are will perhaps want to regard my take on the film with a grain of salt, just as negative comments on The Passion from unbelieving critics needed to be taken with a grain of salt.

Still, I find that the most successful sports movies, such as the recent Miracle and The Rookie, reach out across the divide separating fans from non-fans, finding ways of making the drama compelling to the uninitiated as well as aficionados.

Bobby Jones, while sweetly sincere and uplifting, doesn't fully succeed in doing this. I appreciated some of the film's niftiest golf stunts, such as a rebound shot from Jones' cheerfully decadent professional rival Walter Hagen (enjoyable Jeremy Northam) and a wild back-and-forth putt on a practice green on a rocking ship from Jones. But I wasn't drawn into the game the way I wanted to be.

There's also a cute romantic subplot involving Jones' future wife (Claire Forlani), whose Catholic father initially objects to her romance with a non-Catholic youth — but only until he realizes it's the Bobby Jones.

At 35, Caviezel's too old to play the 20-something Jones, especially in his college days. However, he convincingly projects the character's sincerity, flashes of anger and bursts of pain. Also, for what it's worth, his swing looks solid to me.

Content advisory: Much minor profanity and mild crude language; a one-blow fistfight; references to astrology; a Protestant-Catholic marriage involving the main character.

Steven D. Greydanus, editor and chief critic of DecentFilms.com, writes from Bloomfield, New Jersey.