I love a good, old fashioned barney. That’s what King David said just before he led the Israelites into the city of Troy inside a giant wooden horse and was subsequently beheaded by Richard the Lionheart. (I’m a bit sketchy on the details but I think that’s the gist of what happened, although, who knows, I was sick the day they did history). And it is with those words of battle ringing in my ears that I embark on this, my historic first foray into what I hope will become a quad-weekly (every four weeks) essay exploring the murkier corners of Christendom. If all goes well, I may consider making it a monthly thing.

And what better way to cut this baby’s cord - to use an inappropriate metaphor - than to let rip with a vicious diatribe against one of the most subversive, manipulative and downright evil films that the world has ever seen. Unfortunately, a legal injunction prevents me from doing so, so instead I will talk about The Da Vinci Code. The talking car movie will get its comeuppance, though, make no mistake.

The Da Vinci Code has been a cinematic phenomenon, breaking box office records worldwide and making millions of dollars for its producers through ticket sales, advertising revenue and promotional tie-ins such as McDonalds happy meals and Tom Hanks action figures. The one that spews forth quotes from the movie, such as, “Gimme a break, not another stupid anagram” and “Run, Robert Langdon, run!” is admittedly quite ingenious. The movie’s success has been so unprecedented that apparently a novel has even been released of the same name.

Now, far be it from me to cast aspersions on Dan Brown, whose credentials are no doubt somewhere, but I feel I must take him to task on certain aspects of his book, specifically several blatant errors of logic and historicity. Firstly, the cover of the book is brown. This is not strictly an error as such, in fact it is not inconceivable that it might be a cunning cipher in itself, a hidden code if you will, hinting to readers that the author’s name is Brown. If indeed this is what it is, its certainly not the cleverest riddle, since the author’s name is clearly written on the cover anyway, which is a dead giveaway. No, my concern with the pooish hue of the book’s cover is not merely aesthetic. It appears to be symptomatic of an out of control ego. Who writes a book, changes their surname to Brown, then emblazons the book with a brown cover? I’ll tell you who. Brown people with brown lives, brown ideas and probably brown Volvos.

Another problem with the story is one of simple logic. Mr Brown would have us believe that Jesus not only married Mary Magdalene, but that they had children together too. Perfectly feasible concept, thinkest thou? Au contraire, little buddy. My objection to this scenario is simply this: Jesus was God in human flesh and as such possessed infinite wisdom and infinite insight. Why would someone who could see the future and know every possible outcome of every decision willingly embark on the misadventure of matrimony? Wouldn’t he have known that Mary would pester him day and night to put his carpentry skills to use for once and fix some things around the house? Couldn’t he have foreseen the pounding headaches as the kids incessantly screamed in his ear, “Can I stay up tonight and watch the rabbi recite the Torah, Dad? Please, please, please?” Not to mention the heartache as the children grew into delinquent teenagers, stealing donkeys and smoking frankincense. No, I don’t believe Jesus would willingly put himself in such a position. [i]

The lack of humour in the story is another frustrating error. I did not laugh once whilst reading the book and there was only one fleeting moment during the movie which made me laugh, namely when the fellow in front of me spilled a Pepsi in his lap. This is preposterous, as I know from my own experiences while studying advanced cryptology at the Prague Conservatory in the sixties that cryptographers are amongst the most chortle-inducing of all scholars and academics. I remember a rollicking good practical joke played on me by my old dormitory friend Ian, when he suggested that the 13-place Caesar-shift cipher I was working on was in fact a checkerboard transposition and not a cipher at all, and encouraged me to use frequency analysis on five hundred different monoalphabetic substitution algorithms to decrypt it. When, after eight years of solid research, I finally resolved the enigma and found the words “Sucked in” staring back at me, I chuckled and thought to myself how lucky I was to be a part of such a fun-loving fraternity of zany pranksters. In the same spirit of good-natured humour, I stuffed Ian in a lead sarcophagus and bricked him up somewhere in the catacombs of the Zurich Natural History Museum archives. Hilarious.

Finally, I must take issue with Mr Poo’s depiction of Opus Dei. In the Da Vinci Code they are pilloried as self-mutilating, murderous charlatans, who seem willing to go to any callous lengths necessary to prevent the world from discovering the corruption inherent in the organization, which supposedly holds the reins of power within the Catholic Church. Now, being a senior lecturer Emeritus at the Opus Institute, a pre-eminent Catholic think-tank, offers me a unique overview of this much-maligned and misunderstood group of dedicated laypeople. In my twenty-five years of dealing with Opus Dei, I have never known a member to physically harm himself as a method of atonement for sin. Sure, Malcolm used to flail his bare back with a cat o’ nine tails on the bus each morning on the way to the office, but hey, if we’re honest with ourselves we’ve all felt that way on a cold, rainy, Monday morning. And I’ve only known a couple of members who have actually killed anyone. I was assured the victims were Pentecostals.

Having said all that, now watch me say this. Dan Brown himself has gone to great lengths to point out that the book and film are both works of fiction and should not be taken too seriously, much less appropriated as a new spiritual paradigm. Wise words from a great sage. After all, when it comes right down to it, The Da Vinci Code is simply a novel and I’m told by everyone that its a great page-turner. Personally, I prefer to use my fingers. The thought of using one book to turn the pages of another book is far too existential for my liking, not to mention impractical.

The Da Vinci Code has gotten people talking and, more importantly, it has gotten people interested in the story of Jesus, which can surely only be good thing. I, for one, applaud Mr Brown Volvo for shining the blinding light of publicity on the Gospels, so that they may be scrutinized in the public arena and discovered to be the reliable and accurate sources of truth that they are. And I’m sure The Da Vinci Code will similarly go on to greater heights of cultural esteem, like perhaps a Saturday morning cartoon series.

In closing, it seems appropriate to conclude with the now legendary quote from the film:

“Run, Robert Langdon, run!”

[i] The author wishes to reiterate his faith in the sacred institution of marriage. He believes it is just grand.

This entry was posted on Sunday, July 2nd, 2006 at 4:27 pm
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