***Spoiler Warning: I’ve tried to keep from spoiling surprises in the following review. However, in discussion of the story, there may still be spoilers. Read at your own risk.***

I spent Thursday evening watching The DaVinci Code with a friend of mine who really enjoyed the book and the movie. She suggested I update the blog more often so she’ll have something to do at work. This one’s for you.

I’ve been trying to figure out which I liked better: the movie or the book. Usually I can tell hands down which version of a story I like more (usually the book) but in the case of The DaVinci Code, I’d have to say that the book and the movie were both similarly entertaining. The movie didn’t suffer from the book’s biggest flaws, and vice versa. In other words, the book is better because the movie was made, and the movie is better having previously read the book.

In my opinion, the biggest flaw of the book was Brown’s methods of manipulating the reader by hiding the truth of certain plot elements. Most-appalling among these tricks was his use of viewpoint characters. Later in the book, you discover that two of his viewpoint characters are actually the same person. If an author can pull this off without the reader feeling jerked around, then it’s a successful technique indeed.

I felt like Brown was toying with me. I rarely get mad at authors, but this genuinely ticked me off. As I reader, I like feeling smart. I like guessing 90% of the twists and then being surprised by the other 10%. Brown’s trick made me feel dumb because I had considered what he might be doing with the viewpoints but dismissed it offhand with the naïve thought, “No self-respecting writer would do that.” Well, Brown did it.

Despite that, I still enjoyed the book.

And the movie fixed that problem with the viewpoints, mostly because of the way film as a medium works. They never showed the villain from his own viewpoint until the moment that it’s revealed the viewer who the villain is.

For some, the big-budget documentary-style infodumps about the Crusades and the Knights Templar and the Holy Grail might make this movie seem a little long and boring. For those of us who like documentaries, the information comes across in a fun and entertaining way. I enjoyed these historical asides as much as I enjoyed them in the book. However, the amount of info given in the movie made me wonder if the viewer who has not also read the book might get confused about particular points of the plot. I don’t know any other way the filmmaker’s could’ve gotten across this information without making the movie even longer.

The filmmakers did a great job of speeding up the action to match movie pacing. Brown’s books have good pacing anyway, but there was one scene in particular that was way too long in the book. Langdon and Neveu are escaping the Louvre. In the book, the pair take several scenes to escape, in the which they discuss history and symbolism. In the movie, the escape it achieved in one well-placed cut. Brilliant.

There were a few other places where the book was trimmed, if not so well as the scene just mentioned. However, in each case I could see why the filmmaker’s chose to do what they did, and the cuts didn’t bother me too much.

The flaw of the book that was perpetuated in the movie was the Setups and Payoffs of the treasure hunt. The keys to the scavenger hunt were reliant upon knowledge that the characters have but that the readers may have never seen before in their lives.

For example, when Robert Langdon looks at the numbers scrawled on the floor of the Louvre, he says, “Oh my gosh, she’s right! It’s the Fibonacci sequence!” Am I as a reader/viewer supposed to hit my head and say, “Duh! Why didn’t I see that earlier?”

Most satisfying payoffs come when the reader realizes that they didn’t see the solution earlier, but—having now seen the solution—can look back and see all the steps leading up to it. Maybe Brown’s use of information never before revealed is a staple of the thriller genre, in which I’m not widely read.

The movie’s Bishop Aringarosa had simplified—and more powerful—motives. In addition, the screenwriters created a better motive for Bezu Fache, which was a lot more realistic and engaging than the paper-thin motives attributed to him in the book.

On this point, I began to notice that most of the liars and hypocrites and villains in the movie had been twisted by corrupt forms of religion to become the monsters that they were. It’s this kind of self-serving portrayal of religious people that sheds bad light on those people who believe but are not fanatical in their belief.

Granted, religion misused will—and has—twisted individuals to commit terrible crimes. The Crusades and suicide bombers are two extreme examples. But it seems that Hollywood thinks that religion is the only thing that can twist a person, turning a blind eye to the things that will twist you more quickly and more surely—like the misuse of wealth, power, and fame. Fanaticism can turn anything into a “religion” that will corrupt. The ideology of Hitler and other leaders shows that the twisting can be any belief, not just religious. And our own political climate right now shows that a belief and faith in one political party or another is equally as scary and wrong as the religious zealots who commit crimes in the name of their gods.

I did like that—contrary to their relationship in the book—Langdon and Teabing provided great foils for one another. Teabing fell on the side of Christ being an ordinary man. Langdon wanted to keep the possibility open that Christ was more than just a man. This little exchange of opinions helped balance the movie out in showing two sides of the religious conflict.

But Langdon’s own opinions in the move provide evidence that even if the secret of the Holy Grail were revealed to the world, it wouldn’t have the earth-shattering, Catholic-crushing consequences suggested by the “history” presented. A religion that has revered Christ as a God for almost 2000 years isn’t going to be easily swayed by a bunch of historical documents. And even if it was, it wouldn’t be as instantaneous as the movie suggests. Scientists and scholars would have to translate and catalogue and dissect and postulate for decades, and they would never come to a consensus. Every historian would have a different opinion and different pieces of the documents to support their own claims.

Look at the Dead Sea scrolls. They were discovered over 50 years ago, and scientists are still debating about their significance.

But in pontificating about these questions, I’m ignoring things of deeper and more-lasting significance.

For examples, the locales in the movie—down to the Louvre bathroom—were just as I imagined them while reading the book, probably because I’m somewhat familiar with most of the locations Brown chose. And Roslin in Scotland—now that’s a place I could live out the rest of my days.

The best part of the movie was the jump scene. You’ll know it when you get there. It left me breathless. I’ve never unintentionally gasp-grunted in during movie because I was surprised. But my breath was short, and my heart racing after this little bit of film trickery. I loved it. Best jump scene I’ve ever experienced.