The Da Vinci Code

Many of you have read my review on the books page, and now here we all are at the movies, munching our popcorn and seeing what Akiva Goldsman and Ron Howard have been able to do with Dan Brown’s mix of scandalous heresy, faux-but-fascinating art history, breezy plotting, wooden characters and leaden dialogue. What we got, of course, is the Cliff Notes version of the book, with famous people reciting endless factoids as fast as they can speak, while moving around Western Europe with the gripping pace and deep emotion of wind-up penguins. Some might say, better to microwave the popcorn, grab a beer, and pop in the DVD of “A Beautiful Mind” to see what Akiva and Ron can do when they’re not trying to avoid getting roasted alive by the Catholic Church or garroted in their sleep by the Mad Albino Monk Squad from Opus Dei. At least then you won’t have those obnoxious people in front of you shushing you every time you lean over to discuss the plot with your demon seat-mate. (“Audrey Tautou was so gamine in a ‘A Very Long Engagement’ – did they lobotomize her?” “Shhhhh!”)

But for me, the pleasure in watching the movie of the book that knocked a thousand Oprah picks off the best-seller list isn’t in the quality of the dialogue, the fun of seeing Gandalf/Magneto try to salvage the cred he got with “Richard III”, or the pleasure of trying to comb Tom Hanks’ greaser ‘do over a pair of horns (I think we could be twins, personally). No, the real fun for me is in sitting among my fellow cineastes, listening to the whistling sound as the air slowly leaks out of the wobbly little balloons in which they’ve kept their over-inflated feelings of “faith”.

The statistics tell the story, really. A massive majority of people in North America, for instance, identify themselves as Christians, and most of those (still a majority!) profess to believe that Mary was a virgin when she popped out the Christ child. (Little mistranslation there from the original Greek, but we’ll let that go for now.) But do they go to church? For the most part, rarely (and probably not as often as they tell the pollsters they do). Are they eschewing bisexuality, adultery and morning after pills? Apparently not – just chat up any STD (if you happen to speak virus) and you’ll see that people still follow the same impulses they were following millions of years ago, sitting around the forest and thinking: “I know we’re not the same species anymore, but that chimpanzee is looking damn good.”

No, most Christians nowadays are the cafeteria variety mocked by the sanctimonious-yet-murderous bishop in the book (is there any other kind?), picking and choosing from the buffet of biblical hors d’ouevres – most of those so-called “believers” don’t even believe in me! Sure, I know there are still millions of South American Catholics doing their part to keep the old “Cheaper By The Dozen” family narrative alive, and lots of Protestants carrying on the tradition of following in Jesus’ footsteps, observing the Golden Rule while condemning all non-believers to an eternity in my living room fireplace (that’s where I keep them, by the way). But for the most part, the literal truth of the gospels has been the one small nail on which your workaday Christian has been able to hang his or her shop-worn cloak of belief.

Now though, there’s a new story in town, and pop culture being what it is, that’s what the next generation of kids will grow up with. (“Have you heard about that book, Da Vinci Called, where this guy named Jesus gets married and has kids? Then there’s this other book, the bible, where it says he didn’t, but I hear DVC is a better read. The chapters are way shorter.”) And so it goes – one shaky myth is replaced by another, and we all move on to the next episode of American Idol (Go Taylor!)

And what does this bode for me? A flash in the pan, really. I’m in the same metaphysical boat as the billions of non-Christians all over the world, for whom these arguments over whether that fellow Jesus got lucky are akin to arguing how many angels can dance on the head of a pin (six, unless they’re breakdancing – it’s still the 1970’s in Heaven). For them, life goes on under the watchful eye of Allah, or Buddha, or Vishnu, or L. Ron Hubbard, with the new and perhaps vain hope that the Christians will now go back to killing each other rather than spreading their misery to the heathens. Either way, whether you’re Jesus’ great-great-grandson or just another sinner, we’ll still meet in the wilderness. I’ll be the one with the greaser ‘do.