Unfortunately, the "Da Vinci Code’s" silliness is not nearly as light and entertaining as James Bond’s, but now that the critics seem to have exhausted all the different ways of saying the film is lousy, it’s probably useless to point out its flaws yet again (stale, humorless, boring, long, unimaginative, over-stuffed… it’s all that and more). So I’ll move on to the more interesting question: What exactly went wrong? After all, the book, for all its faults, managed to be fun in a stupid comic-book way. At some level, it hit a chord; it worked. The movie does not.
Perhaps it was a mistake to treat the novel as a thriller. As a thriller, it was only mediocre. As a loopy cocktail of pseudo-culture, however, it was a tour-de-force. That is why the greatest measurable impact of "The Da Vinci Code" has been not on religious practice (more or less unchanged), but rather on tourism (record numbers at sites in Paris, London, and Rome). It is this cultural cocktail--not the thrills, not the supposed “blasphemy”--that is the source of the novel’s allure and runaway sales. Ultimately, it looks as though director Ron Howard erred in trying to make a serious movie out of a fundamentally unserious book. There isn’t a single laugh or thrill in the whole film. Earnest fidelity seems to have been Howard’s goal. Of course, it would have been impossible to cram all the mistakes and absurdities of the novel into even a five-hour film, but in the mere two-and-a-half hours at his disposal, Howard does his solemn best. It’s all there: Jesus and Mary Magdalene, the Gnostic “gospels,” Constantine and the Council of Nicea, medieval witches, the Templars, the Priory of Sion, Clement V, the Crusades, Opus Dei, etc.
"The Da Vinci Code" is so cluttered with historical, symbological, and theological pseudo-facts that it seems hard to imagine any viewer, even one who manages not to doze off, walking out of the theater with a coherent recollection of what exactly has been said--which is probably a blessing. In the long run, this kind of feeble, fictional “attack” will probably end up doing far more good than harm to Christianity, Catholicism, and Opus Dei.
Despite his literal-minded effort to “film the book,” Howard wasn’t afraid to make some significant changes. Some seem to be concessions to the book’s critics; others seem to be provocations. Above all, the central crisis that triggers the novel’s action has been changed completely. The book focuses on a Vatican plan to “disassociate” Opus Dei from the Roman Catholic Church, driving Bishop Aringarosa--the head of Opus Dei--to trust the novel’s villain. In the movie, we have a separate secret society, which includes Aringarosa, within the Church, whose entire purpose is to destroy the Priory of Sion’s big secret: Mary Magdalene’s tomb and the genealogical documents related to Jesus’ supposed descendents.
As a consequence, the character of Aringarosa has been utterly transformed. His "world of the soul, not of the flesh" has been swapped for the abundantly fleshy world of Alfred Molina, the actor who plays the role. Instead of the novel’s devout-but-naive ascetic--who ends up donating millions of dollars to the victims of his scheme--we are given a rotund conniving villain. He’s been fattened up and flattened out--a bad apple, plain and simple, from beginning to end. I happen to live under the same roof as the real head of Opus Dei, so here, too, it’s rather hard for me to see this onscreen bishop as anything but an extra-terrestrial from Hollywood, and I trust that others will see him that way too.