Grand Theft Grail
"See the greatest religion in the world destroyed!"*
BY GREGORY
(a.k.a. The Loosest Cannon In Town)
Jews don’t seem to like Christians very much.
Okay, cool -- got your attention.
But really, having spent a protracted (and often quite appreciative) portion of my life in and around The Entertainment
Industry, you wouldn’t believe some of the comments I have heard. It’s not always hateful, it’s just…weird. Plus there’s
a constant surveillance to determine exactly how Jewish one is -- or, if one isn’t, exactly how somethin’-else one is.
Thus is rank often established -- spoken or unspoken. The topic is always present. It’s tedious. (Frankly – if you think
I’m being a “hater” -- it’s exactly as tedious as not being able to drive a quarter-mile in the Midwest without passing half
a dozen tacky light-up church marquees shoving cutesy salvation-slogans down one’s throat. Bleh.)
I realize that my words here may be taken out of context or exaggerated or misconstrued (I should be so lucky), and I
may “never work again” or whatever people say around here -- however since my job was stolen by scumbags anyway
(I’m doing this for fun!), and I have not a single keister to smooch anymore, I may as well enjoy whatever First
Amendment rights remain here in this increasingly embarrassing country with the great big doofus on top.
The new movie The Da Vinci Code is a juggernaut from The Entertainment Industry, and its themes are inarguably
designed to provoke -- Christians, mainly. The Entertainment Industry does this all the time, for better and worse; it’s
just extremely focused this time around -- perhaps as a direct reaction to that Mel Gibson movie making all that money.
By very firmly suggesting that the alleged saviour of one-third of the Earth’s current population probably diddled his
girlfriend and made cute little Christ-babies (And so what if he did? –Ed.), author-huckster Dan Brown and the makers of
the movie based upon his (snicker!) “word-of-mouth” bestseller are aggressively and intentionally goosing the populace.
That’s fine. The carnival’s back in town.
Beyond this thematic conceit, however, it’s trickier to appraise the movie itself, as it’s a messy and protracted
hodgepodge: a relentlessly talky “thriller,” a mystery without organic momentum (We’ve waited two thousand years;
what’s the hurry?), a pastiche of New Agey concepts fascinating and incongruous. It’s Riane Eisler with car-chases,
Mindwalk merged with Scooby-Doo, that blasé third Indiana Jones movie done twice as pretty and half as fun. All the
while, composer Hans Zimmer displays an embarrassing boner for the most boring works of Philip Glass. Some
confused Baby Boomers may tell you it’s brilliant. I won’t. But I liked it okay. It provokes thought.
Judging by who made the thing and who’s in it (basically V.I.P.-lounge members of the Academy, including the lovely
new French inductee), it would have been cool just to have all the characters in the movie simply distribute Oscars to one
another onscreen, while they’re chasing each other, rather than bothering with all that silly voting next year.
In the Sure To Be Nominated (And Probably *Yawn* Win) category, The Da Vinci Code was adapted by a very wealthy
and shockingly talent-free guy named Akiva Goldsman, whom I once beheld at a geek convention, hawking his mostly
depressing attempt to bring Lost In Space to the big screen. Gary Oldman was there, too, plus that awesome Dick
Tufeld, who voices the Robot. I asked Goldsman if he may ever compose a sequel in which the Robinson family go to
that crazy “vegetable planet” (it was a sincere question; I love that episode -- Dr. Smith transforms into a languid celery
stalk). Goldsman sneered at me. Someone else had the presence of mind to ask him how he got to adapt such a beloved
franchise in the first place, and he replied that a benefactor essentially bought the whole kit and caboodle and gave it to
him. From that moment, Goldsman’s name changed to Punk Ass. Once Punk Ass was ridiculously raised to the status of
minor deity for his hackwork on the tepid and tedious A Beautiful Mind (his first screenplay of three thus far for sturdy
but increasingly joyless craftsman Ron Howard), I learned to dread his terrible junk.
In this regard, there’s little to surprise within The Da Vinci Code, which, narratively, is as much of a by-the-numbers
affair as can be expected from the novel -- which I skimmed at the drugstore without buying it. The last time I did this
was for Memoirs of a Geisha, and the two…er…”epics” are similar in that they both: (a) Arrive brimming over with
hype and Importance; (b) Go on way too long and have far too many “endings” (in the dubious tradition of
contemporary Spielberg); and (c) Pump the glossy production values whilst putting forth the cozy illusion of
“challenging” entertainment. The plot-“twists” and ka-winky-dinks here are the stuff of eye-roll-a-thons, and Punk Ass
seems to think he’s Basil Exposition throughout numerous “spiritually illuminating” scenes badly culled from the book.
But moreover, it’s painfully obvious that there’s no real hunger behind The Da Vinci Code: It mysteriously attempts to
ride the middle-lane and please as many people as possible. If it were a ride at an amusement park (which, in a just
world, it would be), I’d go on it at least twice. But structurally, that’s the highest achievable praise: that Punk Ass did not
entirely obstruct my enjoyment of the amusing concepts and set-pieces randomly stuck together. (The honchos who
backed this movie seriously ought to consider transforming Sony Pictures Plaza in Culver City -- which resembles the
Parisian “police HQ” in the movie -- into an, um, “intellectual thrill-ride.”)
Fortunately, the cast is pretty sweet. As the nut-job, murderous albino monk Silas (apparently based on “Whitey
Jackson” from Foul Play -- hey, remember when movies were smart and fun?), the gifted and charismatic Paul Bettany
returns to his Gangster No. 1 penchant for graphic, gory sadomasochism -- and just about cements his chances for
playing Batman’s next Joker (sigh; Hey Nolan, I wanted that). Note: Kudos also to Veronica Brebner, who does an
exceptional job with Bettany’s makeup as he runs around, freaking out. Sir Ian McKellen also gets to chew the living shit
out of the quite impressive scenery as radical theologian Leigh Teabing (Did somebody say Teabag?), and although his
excessive counter-Christian exposition seemed heavily obvious to me (having interviewed McKellen and experienced his
enthusiasm for the happy churchlessness of Hobbiton), his wry and wily work represents the performance highlight of
the movie. What a spirit!
I’m very weary of Tom Hanks and would love for him to go away for a long time, however I can state here quite
honestly that his work in The Da Vinci Code may be his finest since Bosom Buddies, or at least Joe Versus the Volcano
-- and without any of that distracting bellowing. Hanks surprised me here, both by totally underplaying almost every
scene, as well as by looking and behaving remarkably like an actual human being. Unfortunately, however, director
Howard should have noticed that excessive earnestness robs a protag of his zap. Scholar-hero Robert Langdon holds our
hand through Symbology 101 and then accidentally enrolls himself in Reluctant Hero 101, and Hanks proves plausible,
but that’s it; we all know what Harrison Ford -- at any age -- could have done with this material. Sex it up, old man!
And now, after this and the shallower but far livelier Firewall, both Semi-Everyman Superstars have been stalked by a
vicious and deranged Bettany. Hm. What could it mean?
Of course, the main reason I went to see The Da Vinci Code was to gaze at Audrey Tautou, who knocks my socks off.
I love looking at this woman. (World, in this instance we quite agree.) As Sophie Neveu -- one of those petite and utterly
adorable police cryptologists always dashing about the Louvre -- Tautou isn’t given much to do here except to Listen In
Awe, Run, and Be Benevolent, however the woman could star in a movie about almond cultivation and I’d watch it six
times. (When two of the actors here train a gun on her, I was ready to tear through the screen and save her myself.)
She’s got a remarkable fire inside, regardless of how little this particular movie allows us to experience it. Meanwhile,
Howard’s employment of huge, unflattering, “imposing” close-ups of middle-aged stars Hanks, Jean Reno as a twisted
cop and Alfred Molina as a twisted bishop (Adios, Sapito…) led me to wonder if I had stumbled upon an unusually
theological episode of The Lardy Boys Mysteries -- however the camera technique proves glorious for Tautou. Here’s an
example of my thought process as I watched her in this movie:
TAUTOU
Fonny -- Ah don’ eeven like ‘eeztory. Ah’ve nevair seen-uh
much good-uh come from-uh lookeeng eento ze past-uh.
ME
(Wow.)
TAUTOU
Ze ‘oly Grail-uh? A magique cup-uh? Ze source of God’z-uh
powair on Earth-uh?
ME
(Joy.)
TAUTOU
Incroyable!
ME
(I concur, babe!)
MCKELLEN
(gruffly)
WHAT IF THE WORLD DISCOVERS THAT ‘THE GREATEST STORY
EVER TOLD’ IS A LIE?!
ME
(Sacre bleu!...um…Sir Ian, Sir…You’re totally harshing my mellow.)
TAUTOU
‘ow wahz Ah evair zupposed to-uh feegure all zees out-uh?
ME
(Ahhh, that’s it...yeah...more...right there...)
Which leads us to the plot, which is so outrageously silly and complicated that it only merits a teensy paragraph (lest I
head for three-thousand words): Essentially, Leonardo da Vinci painted and wrote things (backwards) in order to tell the
world, via Sir Ian McKellen, that Jesus Christ got his wife Mary Magdalene pregnant, and the bloodline survives to this
day -- which annoys those zany, radical Opus Dei members of the Catholic Church, who for some inexplicable reason
only have a few tense hours to kill our heroes in order to hush everything up.
(Incidentally, I appreciate the many reasons to foster resentment toward the Catholic Church -- ranging from the
Crusades and the Inquisition to the willful lack of support for Jews during WWII to the pedo-priests of today. Plus,
Catholics, please: Condoms already! However, rather than unspooling all this resentful malarkey -- Bettany is great but
Silas as scripted is little more than a crazy caricature, a snotty scribble, literally the whipping-boy! -- why not simply
make movies which address these issues outright? Make a movie called The Vatican Should Have Helped Us But They
Didn’t And Therefore They Suck!, and stick it on a double-bill with We Want Our Gold Back, You Fuckers! Go for it!
I’d buy a ticket.)
Anyway, that’s the main gist of the plot, but it affords plentiful hooks upon which to hang all manner of narrative,
cinematic and thematic tomfoolery. I chuckled when either Punk Ass or Brown intimated that the Star of David is
actually a combining of the Pagan symbols (?) for Masculine and Feminine, often found concealed in the cellars of your
better ancient churches -- news to me! I also nearly fell out of my seat upon learning that a pentagram automatically
means that Grandpa is a Satanist with a thing for yucky orgies! Plus, speaking of symbols, why do Langdon and Neveu
have to take a bus all the way to Chelsea (which everybody knows is home to London’s only library) when they could
simply use the Internet at any Kinko’s -- the logo of which being until recently -- Gasp! -- a pink, inverted triangle:
The Grail! Meanwhile, less-spiritually-astute fans of the Dirty Harry franchise will get to watch Reno violently beating
the bejesus out of an innocent man. Fans of The Ring franchise may enjoy Hanks playing the besmirched little girl stuck
down the well. And fans of the “junkie” genre will appreciate that all it takes is Audrey Tautou handing a heroin-addict
fifty Euros, et voilà: clean!
It’s doubtful that Howard has filmed this many flat-out chases since his feature debut, Grand Theft Auto (or his 1969
short, “Cards, Cads, Guns, Gore and Death” -- all elements here), and, alas, these medium-speed romps generate little
excitement, with one of them (featuring Sophie careening backwards through Paris) actually summoning unintentional
laughter via particularly goofy editing. (Speaking of which, there’s also a funny-bad edit involving a dustless trap-door,
which in close-up becomes dusty so that Hanks may blow it off.) In between the chases, we get a lot of flashbacks,
processed in a grainy, bluish, so-1990s “bleach-bypass” fashion which wouldn’t be a problem except that everything
from enormous epic shots (the rule of Constantine and the rise and fall of the Knights Templar) to real-time plot-points
(how our heroes smuggled themselves into a car a few seconds prior) is treated, visually, as the same sort of flashback,
which mucks things up. Also, observing the multitudes of extras flowing through stunning tableaux of ancient Rome and
Gaul, my main thought was that I wish Star Trek movies had these kinds of budgets.
Beyond all that, though, and beyond even my slagging, The Da Vinci Code is a valuable movie, in that it ultimately
espouses (pun very intended) Feminine spirituality, via an accessible medium, to a huge, global audience. Mind, this
intellectual terrain is often the refuge of the shithead (I have seen many dubious males spouting New Age junk in order to
get into The Holy Grail…if ya know what I’m sayin’), however I know Tautou is a smart cookie, and her participation
engenders a sense of trust in the material -- something the producers surely knew going in (she did make Dieu est grand,
je suis toute petite, after all). The world really is being torn apart by antiquated patriarchal religions (basically, all of ‘em),
so I’m quite ready to accept The Da Vinci Code if for no other reason than for hinting, to large numbers of people, that
other ways of thinking and living are possible.
In this sense, while I am reluctant to buy into the “controversy” strewn about by this story, I am happy that the
conversations it sparks are unlikely to be boring. Plus -- although I’m generally in possession of my senses and fully
realize that she’s a person and an actress, fo’ Chrissakes -- if Audrey Tautou is being delivered unto us as a Saviour, then
I at last may be ready to Believe.
The Da Vinci Code
Entertainment Value: 8/13
Style: 10/13
Philosophical Insight: 9/13
-Gregory, 18 May, 2006
(*Just kidding: This is a goof on the tagline for Grand Theft Auto, which launched Ron Howard as a feature director and
closely parallels The Da Vinci Code.)
"See the greatest religion in the world destroyed!"*
BY GREGORY
(a.k.a. The Loosest Cannon In Town)
Jews don’t seem to like Christians very much.
Okay, cool -- got your attention.
But really, having spent a protracted (and often quite appreciative) portion of my life in and around The Entertainment
Industry, you wouldn’t believe some of the comments I have heard. It’s not always hateful, it’s just…weird. Plus there’s
a constant surveillance to determine exactly how Jewish one is -- or, if one isn’t, exactly how somethin’-else one is.
Thus is rank often established -- spoken or unspoken. The topic is always present. It’s tedious. (Frankly – if you think
I’m being a “hater” -- it’s exactly as tedious as not being able to drive a quarter-mile in the Midwest without passing half
a dozen tacky light-up church marquees shoving cutesy salvation-slogans down one’s throat. Bleh.)
I realize that my words here may be taken out of context or exaggerated or misconstrued (I should be so lucky), and I
may “never work again” or whatever people say around here -- however since my job was stolen by scumbags anyway
(I’m doing this for fun!), and I have not a single keister to smooch anymore, I may as well enjoy whatever First
Amendment rights remain here in this increasingly embarrassing country with the great big doofus on top.
The new movie The Da Vinci Code is a juggernaut from The Entertainment Industry, and its themes are inarguably
designed to provoke -- Christians, mainly. The Entertainment Industry does this all the time, for better and worse; it’s
just extremely focused this time around -- perhaps as a direct reaction to that Mel Gibson movie making all that money.
By very firmly suggesting that the alleged saviour of one-third of the Earth’s current population probably diddled his
girlfriend and made cute little Christ-babies (And so what if he did? –Ed.), author-huckster Dan Brown and the makers of
the movie based upon his (snicker!) “word-of-mouth” bestseller are aggressively and intentionally goosing the populace.
That’s fine. The carnival’s back in town.
Beyond this thematic conceit, however, it’s trickier to appraise the movie itself, as it’s a messy and protracted
hodgepodge: a relentlessly talky “thriller,” a mystery without organic momentum (We’ve waited two thousand years;
what’s the hurry?), a pastiche of New Agey concepts fascinating and incongruous. It’s Riane Eisler with car-chases,
Mindwalk merged with Scooby-Doo, that blasé third Indiana Jones movie done twice as pretty and half as fun. All the
while, composer Hans Zimmer displays an embarrassing boner for the most boring works of Philip Glass. Some
confused Baby Boomers may tell you it’s brilliant. I won’t. But I liked it okay. It provokes thought.
Judging by who made the thing and who’s in it (basically V.I.P.-lounge members of the Academy, including the lovely
new French inductee), it would have been cool just to have all the characters in the movie simply distribute Oscars to one
another onscreen, while they’re chasing each other, rather than bothering with all that silly voting next year.
In the Sure To Be Nominated (And Probably *Yawn* Win) category, The Da Vinci Code was adapted by a very wealthy
and shockingly talent-free guy named Akiva Goldsman, whom I once beheld at a geek convention, hawking his mostly
depressing attempt to bring Lost In Space to the big screen. Gary Oldman was there, too, plus that awesome Dick
Tufeld, who voices the Robot. I asked Goldsman if he may ever compose a sequel in which the Robinson family go to
that crazy “vegetable planet” (it was a sincere question; I love that episode -- Dr. Smith transforms into a languid celery
stalk). Goldsman sneered at me. Someone else had the presence of mind to ask him how he got to adapt such a beloved
franchise in the first place, and he replied that a benefactor essentially bought the whole kit and caboodle and gave it to
him. From that moment, Goldsman’s name changed to Punk Ass. Once Punk Ass was ridiculously raised to the status of
minor deity for his hackwork on the tepid and tedious A Beautiful Mind (his first screenplay of three thus far for sturdy
but increasingly joyless craftsman Ron Howard), I learned to dread his terrible junk.
In this regard, there’s little to surprise within The Da Vinci Code, which, narratively, is as much of a by-the-numbers
affair as can be expected from the novel -- which I skimmed at the drugstore without buying it. The last time I did this
was for Memoirs of a Geisha, and the two…er…”epics” are similar in that they both: (a) Arrive brimming over with
hype and Importance; (b) Go on way too long and have far too many “endings” (in the dubious tradition of
contemporary Spielberg); and (c) Pump the glossy production values whilst putting forth the cozy illusion of
“challenging” entertainment. The plot-“twists” and ka-winky-dinks here are the stuff of eye-roll-a-thons, and Punk Ass
seems to think he’s Basil Exposition throughout numerous “spiritually illuminating” scenes badly culled from the book.
But moreover, it’s painfully obvious that there’s no real hunger behind The Da Vinci Code: It mysteriously attempts to
ride the middle-lane and please as many people as possible. If it were a ride at an amusement park (which, in a just
world, it would be), I’d go on it at least twice. But structurally, that’s the highest achievable praise: that Punk Ass did not
entirely obstruct my enjoyment of the amusing concepts and set-pieces randomly stuck together. (The honchos who
backed this movie seriously ought to consider transforming Sony Pictures Plaza in Culver City -- which resembles the
Parisian “police HQ” in the movie -- into an, um, “intellectual thrill-ride.”)
Fortunately, the cast is pretty sweet. As the nut-job, murderous albino monk Silas (apparently based on “Whitey
Jackson” from Foul Play -- hey, remember when movies were smart and fun?), the gifted and charismatic Paul Bettany
returns to his Gangster No. 1 penchant for graphic, gory sadomasochism -- and just about cements his chances for
playing Batman’s next Joker (sigh; Hey Nolan, I wanted that). Note: Kudos also to Veronica Brebner, who does an
exceptional job with Bettany’s makeup as he runs around, freaking out. Sir Ian McKellen also gets to chew the living shit
out of the quite impressive scenery as radical theologian Leigh Teabing (Did somebody say Teabag?), and although his
excessive counter-Christian exposition seemed heavily obvious to me (having interviewed McKellen and experienced his
enthusiasm for the happy churchlessness of Hobbiton), his wry and wily work represents the performance highlight of
the movie. What a spirit!
I’m very weary of Tom Hanks and would love for him to go away for a long time, however I can state here quite
honestly that his work in The Da Vinci Code may be his finest since Bosom Buddies, or at least Joe Versus the Volcano
-- and without any of that distracting bellowing. Hanks surprised me here, both by totally underplaying almost every
scene, as well as by looking and behaving remarkably like an actual human being. Unfortunately, however, director
Howard should have noticed that excessive earnestness robs a protag of his zap. Scholar-hero Robert Langdon holds our
hand through Symbology 101 and then accidentally enrolls himself in Reluctant Hero 101, and Hanks proves plausible,
but that’s it; we all know what Harrison Ford -- at any age -- could have done with this material. Sex it up, old man!
And now, after this and the shallower but far livelier Firewall, both Semi-Everyman Superstars have been stalked by a
vicious and deranged Bettany. Hm. What could it mean?
Of course, the main reason I went to see The Da Vinci Code was to gaze at Audrey Tautou, who knocks my socks off.
I love looking at this woman. (World, in this instance we quite agree.) As Sophie Neveu -- one of those petite and utterly
adorable police cryptologists always dashing about the Louvre -- Tautou isn’t given much to do here except to Listen In
Awe, Run, and Be Benevolent, however the woman could star in a movie about almond cultivation and I’d watch it six
times. (When two of the actors here train a gun on her, I was ready to tear through the screen and save her myself.)
She’s got a remarkable fire inside, regardless of how little this particular movie allows us to experience it. Meanwhile,
Howard’s employment of huge, unflattering, “imposing” close-ups of middle-aged stars Hanks, Jean Reno as a twisted
cop and Alfred Molina as a twisted bishop (Adios, Sapito…) led me to wonder if I had stumbled upon an unusually
theological episode of The Lardy Boys Mysteries -- however the camera technique proves glorious for Tautou. Here’s an
example of my thought process as I watched her in this movie:
TAUTOU
Fonny -- Ah don’ eeven like ‘eeztory. Ah’ve nevair seen-uh
much good-uh come from-uh lookeeng eento ze past-uh.
ME
(Wow.)
TAUTOU
Ze ‘oly Grail-uh? A magique cup-uh? Ze source of God’z-uh
powair on Earth-uh?
ME
(Joy.)
TAUTOU
Incroyable!
ME
(I concur, babe!)
MCKELLEN
(gruffly)
WHAT IF THE WORLD DISCOVERS THAT ‘THE GREATEST STORY
EVER TOLD’ IS A LIE?!
ME
(Sacre bleu!...um…Sir Ian, Sir…You’re totally harshing my mellow.)
TAUTOU
‘ow wahz Ah evair zupposed to-uh feegure all zees out-uh?
ME
(Ahhh, that’s it...yeah...more...right there...)
Which leads us to the plot, which is so outrageously silly and complicated that it only merits a teensy paragraph (lest I
head for three-thousand words): Essentially, Leonardo da Vinci painted and wrote things (backwards) in order to tell the
world, via Sir Ian McKellen, that Jesus Christ got his wife Mary Magdalene pregnant, and the bloodline survives to this
day -- which annoys those zany, radical Opus Dei members of the Catholic Church, who for some inexplicable reason
only have a few tense hours to kill our heroes in order to hush everything up.
(Incidentally, I appreciate the many reasons to foster resentment toward the Catholic Church -- ranging from the
Crusades and the Inquisition to the willful lack of support for Jews during WWII to the pedo-priests of today. Plus,
Catholics, please: Condoms already! However, rather than unspooling all this resentful malarkey -- Bettany is great but
Silas as scripted is little more than a crazy caricature, a snotty scribble, literally the whipping-boy! -- why not simply
make movies which address these issues outright? Make a movie called The Vatican Should Have Helped Us But They
Didn’t And Therefore They Suck!, and stick it on a double-bill with We Want Our Gold Back, You Fuckers! Go for it!
I’d buy a ticket.)
Anyway, that’s the main gist of the plot, but it affords plentiful hooks upon which to hang all manner of narrative,
cinematic and thematic tomfoolery. I chuckled when either Punk Ass or Brown intimated that the Star of David is
actually a combining of the Pagan symbols (?) for Masculine and Feminine, often found concealed in the cellars of your
better ancient churches -- news to me! I also nearly fell out of my seat upon learning that a pentagram automatically
means that Grandpa is a Satanist with a thing for yucky orgies! Plus, speaking of symbols, why do Langdon and Neveu
have to take a bus all the way to Chelsea (which everybody knows is home to London’s only library) when they could
simply use the Internet at any Kinko’s -- the logo of which being until recently -- Gasp! -- a pink, inverted triangle:
The Grail! Meanwhile, less-spiritually-astute fans of the Dirty Harry franchise will get to watch Reno violently beating
the bejesus out of an innocent man. Fans of The Ring franchise may enjoy Hanks playing the besmirched little girl stuck
down the well. And fans of the “junkie” genre will appreciate that all it takes is Audrey Tautou handing a heroin-addict
fifty Euros, et voilà: clean!
It’s doubtful that Howard has filmed this many flat-out chases since his feature debut, Grand Theft Auto (or his 1969
short, “Cards, Cads, Guns, Gore and Death” -- all elements here), and, alas, these medium-speed romps generate little
excitement, with one of them (featuring Sophie careening backwards through Paris) actually summoning unintentional
laughter via particularly goofy editing. (Speaking of which, there’s also a funny-bad edit involving a dustless trap-door,
which in close-up becomes dusty so that Hanks may blow it off.) In between the chases, we get a lot of flashbacks,
processed in a grainy, bluish, so-1990s “bleach-bypass” fashion which wouldn’t be a problem except that everything
from enormous epic shots (the rule of Constantine and the rise and fall of the Knights Templar) to real-time plot-points
(how our heroes smuggled themselves into a car a few seconds prior) is treated, visually, as the same sort of flashback,
which mucks things up. Also, observing the multitudes of extras flowing through stunning tableaux of ancient Rome and
Gaul, my main thought was that I wish Star Trek movies had these kinds of budgets.
Beyond all that, though, and beyond even my slagging, The Da Vinci Code is a valuable movie, in that it ultimately
espouses (pun very intended) Feminine spirituality, via an accessible medium, to a huge, global audience. Mind, this
intellectual terrain is often the refuge of the shithead (I have seen many dubious males spouting New Age junk in order to
get into The Holy Grail…if ya know what I’m sayin’), however I know Tautou is a smart cookie, and her participation
engenders a sense of trust in the material -- something the producers surely knew going in (she did make Dieu est grand,
je suis toute petite, after all). The world really is being torn apart by antiquated patriarchal religions (basically, all of ‘em),
so I’m quite ready to accept The Da Vinci Code if for no other reason than for hinting, to large numbers of people, that
other ways of thinking and living are possible.
In this sense, while I am reluctant to buy into the “controversy” strewn about by this story, I am happy that the
conversations it sparks are unlikely to be boring. Plus -- although I’m generally in possession of my senses and fully
realize that she’s a person and an actress, fo’ Chrissakes -- if Audrey Tautou is being delivered unto us as a Saviour, then
I at last may be ready to Believe.
The Da Vinci Code
Entertainment Value: 8/13
Style: 10/13
Philosophical Insight: 9/13
-Gregory, 18 May, 2006
(*Just kidding: This is a goof on the tagline for Grand Theft Auto, which launched Ron Howard as a feature director and
closely parallels The Da Vinci Code.)
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