The Da Vinci Load

If you are one of the twelve people in America who have not read The Da Vinci Code, and it is your hope to be shocked, surprised and wowed by the faith-shattering secrets contained in the movie, then stop reading this now. Instead, retreat to the rock you have been hiding under for the past few years, plug your ears with your fingers, and begin chanting, "LA! LA! LA! LA!" as loudly as you can to drown out the collective blathering of suburban housewives in coffee shops across the nation. You will be hunted by angels.

In case you lost this salient point in the rambling passage above, I have not read The Da Vinci Code. However, after seeing the movie, I can tell how amazingly book-like it must be, as it isn't very movie-like at all. Yes, despite amazing locations, car chases, big name stars, the cliche device of a self-flagellating, gun wielding, albino monk, and the promise of a duel between Magneto and Doctor Octopus that never materializes, this just isn't a movie.

I hate to break this to you America, but movies and books are different. Yes, some books make great movies, but that does not mean that all great books make great movies. Please note that I am in no way insinuating that this is a great book, either. Again, I haven't read it.

You see, movies are about action and the communal experience of the audience. Books are about ideas and the individual experience of the reader. They are inherently at odds. Movies are experienced in a single sitting--except Bio-Dome. Books, however, occupy a period of our lives. The time we spend away from them then colors the time we spend reading them. We reflect, ponder, discuss, live, and then read some more. Books become inextricable interwoven into our existence--much as Bobbie Brown has attached himself to Whitney Houston. A good book, or Bobbie, is like a lamprey of the soul.

The appeal of the book can be summed up in a five minute segment of the movie. While Tom Hanks and his hair hide out at Ian McKellen's mansion with the actress who might as well change her name to "Amelie" and get it over with, they have a discussion replete with visual aids, during which the "dark con of man" is revealed.

Yes, Jesus did the nasty. You'd think the Catholic Church would be thrilled it was with a willing woman instead of with a confused altar boy.

The world can be divided into two groups of people: those who find this idea mildly intriguing, and those who HAVE JUST HAD THEIR FRIGGIN' MINDS BLOWN OUT OF THE BACK OF THEIR SKULLS BY THE TWISTED, LITERARY SLEDGEHAMMER THAT IS DAN BROWN! I fall into the former. Honestly, I would have been much more interested to have this conversation than to watch it--even though it gave the token connection necessary to justify the work's eponymous figure being so...eponymous-ous.

Actually, the ultimate medium for this piece would be a stoned conversation in a dorm room rather than a book. It would have been inspired by that cool prof you had in college who always started off his lectures with some type of Socratic moment. He'd sit on his desk, stare with his piercing eyes and immaculately unkempt beard and ask, "What if...instead of the Catholic Church being based on actual events of history, it was just decided upon by committee--like your senior prom?"

(Begin naive, collegiate internal monologue.)

Holy crap! This dude is a god! My mind has TOTALLY BEEN BLOWN! At a state school! No wonder my girlfriend thinks he's so hot! Maybe he's not just trying to bolster his own self esteem by playing the big fish in an incredibly small and academically-incestuous intellectual pond. He's got...AN IDEA! Granted, it's one that many people have thought of in the past, but that doesn't make it any less original--except by definition...

(End naive, collegiate internal monologue.)

Yes, Dan Brown has done for religion what Michael Crichton did for science--made unqualified people feel smart enough to talk about it.

It's not a bad movie. It's better than Poseidon--and I feel comfortable saying that even though I haven't seen Poseidon. But it didn't rock my world, or shatter my faith, or make me question my reality, or anything like that. If Doctor Octopus and Magneto had thrown down, however, I would totally be having my moment in the dessert.

In summation, I give Poseidon zero stars.