In the passion account, Jesus Christ tells the Roman provincial governor Pontius Pilate: “For this cause I was born, and for this cause I have come into the world, that I should bear witness to the truth. Everyone who is of the truth hears My voice.” Pilate responds, “What is truth?” and sends Jesus to his death.

Shot on location during the filming of Mel Gibson’s “The Passion of the Christ,” the makers of “The Big Question” ask dozens of cast and crew members to answer variations of Pilate’s question.

The documentary is judiciously edited and layered in some of the richest natural light this side of a Terrence Malick film. Directors Francesco Cabras and Alberto Molinari take advantage of a beautiful location and their steady camera work brings the best out of their subjects. The original music – which carries the film along – was composed by Mr. Molinari, and also adds to the warm ambience.

Messrs. Cabras and Molinari pose 12 questions – off camera – that are bridged by visually stunning transitions showing Greg, a white dog, roaming through the ruins of the village of Sassi in Matera.

The only problem with the film, in fact, is the meaningless and unsatisfying answers given to the questions. The cast and crew may have been making the most profoundly Christian film in history, but not only were most of the subjects not Christian, they were horrible representatives of their various faiths. What’s worse: They committed that most damnable of sins – they were boring.

If the film was designed to show how poorly religious systems have fared in inculcating faith, this would be forgivable. But the whole reason for the film’s existence is to illuminate its subjects’ perceptions of the divine. Is it really possible that the cast and crew of “The Passion” have the combined theological wisdom of a bunch of philosophy undergrads huddled around a bong?

Part of the fault lies with the filmmakers, who built a bias toward relativity into their question. Subjects were encouraged to transcend religious identity, which sounds noble until you realize it’s about as effective as playing a concert without instruments.

The filmmakers ask subjects whether they would believe what they did if they were raised on the other side of the globe. It’s a stupid question to ask, considering the subjects spend no time explaining why they believe what they do. In any case, a nun says she would be a devout Muslim if she grew up in Thailand. Other subjects say all roads lead to comprehension of the other, prayers go to the same god, and total orthodoxy makes you think the world is split in two: the good, to which you adhere, and the bad, all others.

Another says, “There are 6.5 billion people on earth, a billion and a half are Christian; the other 5 billion can’t be wrong.” Why not? Why, a priori, can they not be wrong?

In “The Closing of the American Mind,” Allan Bloom wrote that students entering university no longer believe in truth. “[T]he relativity of truth is not a theoretical insight but a moral postulate, the condition of a free society, or so they see it,” he lamented.

Even though a few of the subjects do believe in the veracity of their views, the purpose of the documentary isn’t to find the truth but to offer different visions filtered through various cultural and religious backgrounds.

It seems Pontius Pilate was ahead of his time.