And while it’s pure speculation on my part, based on his juvenile behavior, it appears as if Maher is a disgruntled Catholic trying desperately to convince himself God doesn’t exist; so regardless of how bright he perceives himself to be, Maher lacks the insight to realize that he’s revealing something he’d probably prefer the rest of America not to notice.

For someone as mentally deficient as Maher believes I am, even as far back as the first grade I recognized that there was no direct correlation between parochial school and the personhood of God. Yet for all Maher’s clever innuendo and sarcastic banter, it must go deeper than that, because this man apparently isn’t astute enough to separate Catholicism from God.

Maher was raised by an Irish Catholic father and a mother (Julie, nee Berman) that he was unaware was Jewish until he was a teenager (which right there reeks of family dysfunction). Seems somewhere around the age of 13, when hormone-infused Bill, had he been raised a Jew, might have been practicing his Hebrew to prepare for an upcoming Bar Mitzvah, Maher’s Catholic dad realized birth control was a good idea after all.

Based on Maher’s animosity toward all religion and toward Christianity in particular, one would guess Dad’s gripe with Rome might have impacted his son.

Since then, William Jr., whose parental religious roots are firmly implanted in a Judeo-Christian heritage, has made it a career to get back at God. Try as he might to prove otherwise, Maher’s contempt for Christianity could very well be rooted in his father’s reaction to the Roman Catholic Church’s undying commitment to the rhythm method.

Since the day Maher’s Dad decided pull out of the Catholic Church, any aspirations young Maher had of one day being an altar boy were left lying like a crumpled cassock on the parish Sacristy floor.

Instead, Willy and Julie’s son changed course and chose to fashion what started as a family disagreement over church doctrine into a successful career portraying believers in God as neanderthal nut jobs with nary a brain cell nor a lick of sense.

From age 13 on, English major and 2009 Richard Dawkins Atheist Alliance International award recipient Maher has spent loads of time demeaning what he and an English Lit degree have identified as the Church’s unscientific teachings on homosexuality, abortion and birth control.

Over the years the comedian has transformed into a liberal/apatheist icon who lacks apathy only when it comes to pocketing millions of dollars earned mocking a God he relegates to the same category as unicorns, the tooth fairy, and JLo’s long-lost plan to cook dinner for only one man.

Apatheism is defined as a “disinclination to care all that much about one’s own religion, and an even stronger disinclination to care about other people’s.” Which means Maher is a pretty lame apatheist, because all he does is focus on religion.

What Maher fails to recognize is that his acerbic comments directed toward God make him look like the proverbial spurned middle-school kid with a crush on the head cheerleader. Who knows, maybe besides the birth control brouhaha, somewhere along the line an overbearing nun denied the future comedian a bathroom pass and he never recovered.

What we do know is that Maher behaves like a confused, madly-in-unrequited-love teenager who spends all his energy defacing God’s locker and calling God and His people floozies as payback for some imagined hurt.

Now, almost 50 years later, one would think that for someone who spends his life pointing out the hypocrisy of organized religion and who believes that when it comes to God, “doubt is the only appropriate response for human beings,” Maher would recognize that, in a roundabout way, making a living off something you don’t believe in is similar to attending Mass while practicing off-beat forms of birth control.

So, with that in mind, when Maher mocks Christians, saying “Who needs government when you have Jesus,” or when he produces and stars in a irreverent movie like “Religulous,” his contempt and derision expose a man who, although he sees himself as brilliant, isn’t quite smart enough to recognize the hypocrisy, not to mention the irony, of making a career out of preaching that one person shouldn’t push their religious beliefs on anybody else.

Why Christian symbols? We’re awfully easy pickings. If you’re a rich Hollywood star, offending us takes about as much courage as bringing a case of beer to a frat party.

Why not Islamic images? Where’s that comedic edge and ballsy envelope pushing we’re always being told about when it comes to our Artistic Class? Christians are tired of this self-important posing. Islamists will take your head off. I would think that Islamist intolerance (and racism and sexism and homophobia and fundamentalism) would be a bigger target than than Christian eye rolls.

Well, if nohing else, at least Gervais was good enough to bring the pretension:

 I thought the caption … could be “Stand up for what you believe”.

Doesn’t he mean for “what you don’t believe”?

Actually, he doesn’t. That’s why I call him Gervais an “evangelical atheist.” He’s one of those obnoxious non-believers always pushing his non-belief on you. He’s like a Mooonie without the charm, flowers or airport.

Back to the pretension:

Should art have a social conscience?

I’m a comedian. Some people probably object to me using the term artist about such a lowly profession. And some people think I shouldn’t even be pondering such highfalutin questions, let alone answering them.

So for a change I’ll try to be economical with my opinions and simply try to provoke yours.

First of all, what is a social conscience?

Help us all, Gervais is actually turning into the insufferable, self-important David Brent.

 HeyUGuys!:

It’s a fun movie, but do you think you’re going to get any flak from the Bible belt in America?

Simon Pegg: Who doesn’t get flak from the Bible belt in America?

I wonder if Pegg’s ever spent any real time in America’s Bible belt? You know, just checked into a motel somewhere and spent a week hanging out with the commoners. Regardless, I have a better question: Name a lazy, lockstep, conformist member of the entertainment community who hasn’t stereotyped the Bible belt in America in order to earn their bona fides as a lazy, lockstep, conformist member of the entertainment community. Ridiculing Christians isn’t brave or edgy. What are we going to do, pray for your Hellbound ass? Write a blog post? In the meantime, the rewards are legion. Hollywood loves you even more. You’re a member of Niedermeyer’s frat in high standing. Better yet, some in the media will lie and tell you you’re brave!

Pegg’s comment is followed by what amounts to an explanation of the thinking behind the film’s “anti-Creationist” elements:

Nick Frost: [co-star] As I said to Simon early, it’s a road movie with an alien in it. If they’re going to get annoyed at that… Really, if you have faith then a film about a dope-smoking alien isn’t going to affect that. It’s just another way of seeing. We were really interested in the idea that someone could have their belief system shattered by a single moment, and that’s why Ruth, Kristen’s character, is a Creationist, is a very specific wing of Christianity, which you can’t have a film with an alien in and it not be counter to that idea. Even Mac and Me is an anti-Creationist film because there’s an alien in it. We’re not being anti-religion; it’s just that’s the universe that the film takes place in. Paul at one point – I think the line was lost in the end – said: “I don’t know. I’m just saying there probably isn’t”. Certainly, that sort of dogma can’t exist if Paul exists, and we love the idea of Ruth suddenly just changing from being one thing to another in a second, and that was it. It wasn’t a crusade again organised religion.

Jason Bateman: [co-star] The scales are a bit swayed. I mean you’d have to go along time, make a lot of movies to balance the scales on people thinking maybe that’s not the way everything happened [God’s creation]. It’s like come on.

Simon Pegg: There wasn’t a massive atheist protest when The Ten Commandments came out. There wasn’t a protest at my local school at the Nativity play this year. It’s just a film.

I’m not even sure I understand the logic behind all that. Sounds like some sort of Fairness Doctrine for Hollywood, but one that works to the Left’s advantage because the first part of achieving “fairness” means that you reach all the way back to the birth of film to even the Christian/atheist playing field. Also, Frost’s spin as far as the film’s Creatonist angle might not be as innocent as he makes it out to be. A number of critics who have seen the finished product saw something well beyond a simple thematic exploration of someone suddenly faced with something that challenges their belief structure:

Obsessed With Film:

More here. Film critics aren’t exactly a bastion of right-wing “creationism,” either.

No one’s saying Pegg and company don’t have every right in the world to mock, ridicule, denigrate, and criticize anything. No one’s saying they don’t have the right to spread the gospel of atheism in blockbuster sci-fi films. That’s what liberty is all about and as someone who loves Monty Python’s “Life of Brian,” a smart satire in this area can even be appreciated. And who knows, maybe “Paul” will achieve that, though a number of critics say otherwise.

But at the same time, the American Bible belt works pretty hard for their money. They don’t receive millions upon millions of dollars to make movies. And so they deserve every opportunity to know what they’re in for before they lay down what might amount to a day’s pay only to have their entire family insulted. Especially, when all they ask from their entertainment overlords was the opportunity to enter the dark for a couple hours of relief from real life.

In a “holiday” message from “Office” creator Ricky Gervais, the world famous atheist spends about five paragraphs essentially ridiculing the inability of we Believers to articulate exactly why it is we believe in God. Then, laughably, he goes on to tell the story of his own deep, thoughtful, intellectual conversion from Christian to atheist:

One day when I was about 8 years old, I was drawing the crucifixion as part of my Bible studies homework. I loved art too. And nature. I loved how God made all the animals. They were also perfect. Unconditionally beautiful. It was an amazing world. …

I was sitting at the kitchen table when my brother came home. He was 11 years older than me, so he would have been 19. He was as smart as anyone I knew, but he was too cheeky. He would answer back and get into trouble. I was a good boy. I went to church and believed in God[.] …

But anyway, there I was happily drawing my hero when my big brother Bob asked, “Why do you believe in God?” Just a simple question. But my mum panicked. “Bob,” she said in a tone that I knew meant, “Shut up.” Why was that a bad thing to ask? If there was a God and my faith was strong it didn’t matter what people said.

Oh…hang on. There is no God. He knows it, and she knows it deep down. It was as simple as that. I started thinking about it and asking more questions, and within an hour, I was an atheist.

Wow. No God. If mum had lied to me about God, had she also lied to me about Santa? Yes, of course, but who cares? The gifts kept coming. And so did the gifts of my new found atheism.

Oh. Well. Case closed then.

Most of my friends and family are agnostics or atheists, so this isn’t my mocking of those who aren’t sure or simply don’t believe (and isn’t the fact that they’re going to burn in the fires of Hell for all eternity punishment enough?). But for some smug celebrity to intentionally choose this time of year to write a smug column ”having a laugh” at how supposedly ineffective we believers are at making our case — the same smug celebrity who wrote what’s quoted above… Well, that’s yet another uniquely beautiful display of the stunning lack of self-awareness among our celebrity class.

And I must add that the most pushy, obnoxious and intolerant evangelists I know today are those spreading the faith of atheism (or Global Cooling Global Warming Climate Change).

Keep your beliefs to yourself, Ricky.

Stop trying to convert me.

P.S. Be sure to read Vox Popoli’s in-depth response to Gervais:

He is the walking, talking evidence of the existence of the definitive Dawkinsian atheist, who does not believe in God because he is an asshole.

That just happens to be my favorite part of what really is a thoughtful and intelligent article.

My apologies for bringing up old crap, but Clooney’s statement, especially the part about how he’s so proud to be out of touch, is one of the most bafflingly odd things I’ve ever heard coming from Clooney, who’s also famous for telling anyone who’ll listen that everybody tells him all the time how brave he was for making a black and white movie about the red scare. It’s very revealing that Clooney would say this, to cheers, a mere three years after a child-rapist was handed an award by that same Academy.

Cut to the present, the child-rapist is caught, and much of Hollywood is outraged. “He should be allowed to live his life,” wrote Peter Bart, his words practically streaked with tears. Hey, guess what, Pete? He has been allowed to live his life. They’re all like Clooney, proud be out of touch. But why? To answer this question, we turn to the genius of one George Costanza.

They’re different than the rest of us. They’re “delicate geniuses.”

Back to the Academy Awards, who can forget Sean Penn humorlessly, smugly, embarrassingly chiding Chris Rock for poking fun at fellow delicate genius Jude Law? Rock’s offense? A joke, dripping with truth, which pointed out that Jude Law is not a box office draw. The box office doesn’t matter to them. Hell, look at the movies they nominate nowadays. They’ve grown more out of touch than ever. You think “The Sting” would get nominated for Best Picture today? Much less win? Or “Jaws”?

And then there’s David Cross (of “Arrested Development” fame), who brags that he snorted coke near Obama. If you don’t think that’s super-cool, then you’re probably a stupid Christian. He’s one of those atheists for whom it’s not nearly enough to just not believe in God, he has to build a stand-up career out of his atheism. He’s always been strangely uninformed about Christianity, but that doesn’t stop him from cracking hipster jokes about Christians. Back in 1999, he joked that he couldn’t wait to make fun of Christians when Y2K turned out to be a global non-factor. In this hilarious segment, Cross discussed Y2K more than my Southern Baptist Pastor did in an entire year.

Cross’ cocaine story, coupled with the story last week about Academy Award fixture Hilary Swank–the she sashays around the house nude in front of her boyfriend’s six-year-old kid–illustrates what’s gone wrong with the delicate geniuses.  Hilary, please, put us on a need-to-know basis. You were way cooler when you were the underdog, the “Next Karate Kid” made good. We simply know too much about the delicate geniuses. The delicate geniuses would be more respected and adored by their audiences if they embraced a little mystery. Remember when Sean Penn crazily demanded privacy? He was sooooo much cooler then. We all knew Paul Newman was a liberal, but I never got the impression that he thought that made him smarter than his audience.

But that’s exactly how the current stars sound when they take credit for the Civil Rights Movement, or wish shame on the grandchildren of people with different opinions than their own (that’s you, Mr. Penn), or indulge us with their stories about getting a snootful of Bolivian Marching Powder while in the company of The Savior, or traipsing around nekkid in the company of kids. They’re enlightened, you see, and we’re the uneducated masses.

Many feel this ballad is a touching hymn that gives voice to man’s yearning for a better world.  They are wrong.  “Imagine” is a cloying, boggy, sonic swamp of numb-skulled sentiments that sound like they were recycled from a bong-fueled, 2 a.m. bull session between a couple of pampered, credulous UC Berkeley lit majors.  It’s the national anthem of the hopey/changey crowd — all at once pretentious, smug, tiresome and intellectually bankrupt. 

“Imagine” should – no, must – be banned and all remaining copies of it destroyed.  Its continued existence makes mankind a stupider, more boring race.

Some shortsighted people might consider this assessment a bit harsh.  They are wrong.  Sure, it was a hit in 1971 and still today Imagine remains a radio staple.  It has sold millions of copies and inspired a legion of cover versions.  Rolling Stone even ranked it third on its roster of the Greatest Songs of All Time.

But these are not testimony to the song’s transcendent quality.  They are signs of the apocalypse.

The song begins with a dull piano chord progression that telegraphs to the listener that Something Waaay Profound is in-bound.  Then Lennon’s atonal voice pipes up.  Let’s leave aside the lyrics for a second – he sounds awful, like some over-earnest troubadour trying too hard to impress the four friends he guilted into coming out on a Wednesday to see him play his new tune over at the Common Grounds coffee house’s weekly open mike.

It’s so ponderous and booorrrinng, seeming to go on forever.  It’s the musical equivalent of passing a kidney stone, only not as much fun.

What was Phil Spector, who produced this mess, thinking?  Right now, he ought to be thinking that “Imagine” was the second biggest mistake of his life.

And the lyrics – give me a break.  Never have so many fawned so shamelessly over such utter nonsense.

The first lines are: “Imagine there’s no heaven/it’s easy if you try.”  No, it isn’t, because if there’s no heaven then there’s no hell, and we know that there’s a hell because when this song is playing we’re in it.

And how about “Imagine all the people/Living for today?”  Yeah, he’s put his finger on our problem – too many people planning ahead and preparing for the future.  This is the kind of powerful, incisive reasoning that led a guy who could take his pick of pretty much any woman in the world to shack up with Yoko Ono.  Let me put it another way for emphasis – this guy chose to see Yoko Ono naked.  Many times.  The only response to someone with that kind of judgment is to listen carefully to what he says and then do the exact opposite.

There’s also the gratuitous commie babbling:  “Imagine no possessions/I wonder if you can/No need for greed or hunger/A brotherhood of man/Imagine all the people/Sharing all the world.”  To quote a better song by the infinitely more talented Frank Zappa, a man with an admirable lack of patience for such treacle, gag me with a spoon.

I’m not sure of the Lennon timeline, but didn’t he write this nonsense about the same time he ditched England because of the tax bite he was taking to help pay for its socialist welfare state?  Sure, depriving a rapacious lefty government of revenue by moving to someplace with a more sensible tax rate is clearly the morally correct thing to do, but isn’t the transparent hypocrisy of this poser a bit much to stomach?

And if all that’s not insipid enough, we also get:  “You may say that I’m a dreamer/But I’m not the only one.”  Oh, please.

The most galling thing about “Imagine” is how it urges the listener to assume the mantle of that “dreamer,” thereby joining the ranks of the free spirits, bohemians and other assorted loafers, chislers and social parasites who are only too happy to belly up to the table that is our society but who are nowhere to be found when the check arrives:

“Sorry, I can’t be bothered to work to build something or to fight to defend anything – you see, I’m a dreamer, so you just let me know when you’ve gotten everything ready for me to enjoy.  Until then, I’ll be here relaxing on my parents’ sofa, pretending to read Gravity’s Rainbow. ”

The only bright spot is that so few folks actually seem to pay attention to its inane lyrics.  How else could one explain American Idol’s David Archuleta, the all-American Mormon kid, covering an ode to atheism that even Lennon conceded was pretty close to being the Communist Manifesto set to music?  Simon Cowell should have slapped him.  Several times.

Fortunately, there’s plenty of music out there that rejects this kind of hippie crap.  Sadly, for every one kid whose mind is opened by, say, The Clash or Husker Du, dozens more will sit slack-jawed and nodding vacantly at the moron-bait songs like “Imagine” dangle in front of them.

For me, I smile when I imagine a world without “Imagine.”  I guess that would make me a dreamer, except I have a job.

The Invention of Lying tells a fantasy story about a world in which people do not know how to lie. The conceit is that lying is the product of a gene no human had before it suddenly popped up in Gervais’s character, forty-something failure Mark Bellison. But instead of simply being a cute comedy based on a silly concept, The Invention of Lying is an ambitious, largely unfunny comedy based on a silly concept. It’s not nearly as cute, innocent, or funny as Gervais’s fans might expect.

In fact, it’s really rather dreary. Yet it does have some good points. Although the early scenes in the film, in which we see Mark’s sad, unsuccessful life, are pretty depressing, there as some funny moments after he invents lying. In addition, the philosophy behind the film is sufficiently confused and inconsistent to be more interesting than one might expect.

Before Mark invents lying, no one in the society is truly happy. They speak with brutal honesty toward one another, in particular calling attention to one another’s faults and their own very base desires, and no one seems to mind the situation too much.

However, there’s something more than just truth-telling going on here, as the characters in these early scenes seem like the pod people from Invasion of the Body Snatchers. There’s no love and no generosity. People’s lives have no meaning, and they don’t look for any. They live for the purpose of advancing the human race genetically, each person trying to find the most genetically superior mate they can catch. Love does not enter into it.

As it happens, the film posits that human beings have no concept of God, and hence do not see any higher purpose in life and have no hope of a life beyond death. This seems part and parcel of the depressing nature of the society depicted in these scenes, though it is difficult to imagine that Gervais intended to make that particular point, given his public statements about the film.

Nonetheless, it is a definite truth that the godless society is unpleasant and uninspired.

After Mark starts lying, things become somewhat interesting–and human kindness begins to make an appearance. Mark’s lies stop a neighbor from committing suicide, help a homeless man get money, bring a troubled couple back together, and give hope to a depressed woman and the occupants of an old people’s home.

Mark then uses his invention to enrich himself, as one might expect. But even that does not bring him happiness, because his real desire, to have the love of beautiful Anna (Jennifer Garner), remains unfulfilled.

He sets out to become successful at his old job, writing screen documentaries, by telling fanciful stories that are much more interesting and fun than the true-life tales that had been produced thereto. The first big story he invents is a clearly mythical saga combining sci fi and other fantasy notions.

Next come the controversial scenes in which Mark invents God and an afterlife. (In the theater at which I watched the film, there were only two other people at the showing, and they walked out during this scene. Obviously they were not expecting the overt stance for atheism in the film.)

What motivates Mark to invent an afterlife is something we’ve seen nothing of to this point: love. His sympathy for his dying mother inspires him to tell her that there is hope beyond death. It’s important to note that neither Mark nor anyone else in the film shows actual evidence of loving another person until this moment, when Mark has already invented lying. The lying gene is strangely connected to the ability to love. As we will see, the key to both is imagination.

Mark is overheard while telling his mother the good news about the next life, and of course people want to hear more. Hope is in the air. So Mark explains further. There is a Good Place where good people go after death, and a Bad Place for the others. He says that doing three bad things will send people to The Bad Place instead of The Good Place. (That, of course, is nothing like what Christianity teaches, although one could see it as a misinformed atheist’s mistaken impression of the faith.)

Under a good deal of sincere but understandably confused questioning by a great crowd of people gathered on his lawn, Mark explains more about the Man in the Sky, the afterlife, and morality, in a scene reminiscent (perhaps too much so) of similar scenes in Monty Python movies.

This is all very difficult for the people to understand, as the early scenes and a park-bench conversation with Anna have established that what people lack most of all in this fictional world is imagination. They cannot see past the surfaces of things.

Soon after his invention of The Man in the Sky, however, people begin to lose their concerns about practical matters and set their thoughts on the next. (Here, too, the difference with Christianity is evident, as Christians are explicitly called to love one another and be good stewards of the blessings given to them in this world.) Their new concern for the next life is manifested in the same way as their previous concerns for this one, however, because they remain selfish and still don’t have love for one another.

Eventually, however, even that changes, as Anna comes to see that a fat little boy tormented by bullies is “so much more than fat little Brian.” She starts to imagine what is behind the boy’s dumpy, genetically unattractive surface.

This leads to a very affecting ending, as Anna finally makes a free choice to marry Mark. (The film, despite its odd concept, hews to a traditional romantic comedy structure.)

Yet there is a further irony in this. In reacting to Anna’s choice to marry a more genetically attractive man (Rob Lowe), Mark is given a couple of opportunities, including one at the dramatic climax, to lure her into marrying him regardless of her genetic preference. In particular, she asks him directly whom the Man in the Sky wants her to marry. All Mark will have to do is say yes, and she will marry him.

Mark refuses to tell her. Like God in dealing with mankind, Mark refrains from forcing or tricking Anna into loving him. She must do so of her own free will, or it has no meaning.

So what we have here are two worlds. One, without God and controlled by thoughts of evolution, is a spectacularly dreary, unhappy place without love or meaning. On the other hand, even a fictional God brings the world meaning, joy, liberty, and wonder.

Thus although Ricky Gervais has publicly said that his film takes an atheist position, it appears that even he cannot imagine a happy, emotionally fulfilling world that does not acknowledge a good many fundamentally religious thoughts, and in particular Christian ones.

So for the second time in about as many weeks, I’m hearing from Brad Pitt on religion. First, there was the absurd, “Eighty percent agnostic, twenty percent atheist” comment, and now he jokes that he’s running on the “no religion” platform in the New Orleans mayoral race. The leap from being atheist to being against religion fascinates me.

Why can’t you simply not believe in God? Surely atheism can exist without a hatred of religion. It’s particularly disturbing that the disdain atheistic non-religionistas have for religion is pretty much limited to Christianity – from my experience. I knew an atheist who was offended when someone at work played a CD by Christian rock band “Third Day.”

But I can sympathize to a degree, after all my son believes in this nut that dresses in a red outfit, is friendly with reindeer, and gives kids presents. Crazy, I know, but my kid runs around singing about this obese clown coming to town, or some nonsense — and IT JUST OFFENDS THE CRAP OUT OF ME!!!

Look, I get it. Religion can be intrusive. Christians of the right-wing variety block entrepreneurs from opening strip clubs and from selling beer on Sunday. They frown on dancing, and on standing-up sex, because somebody might think you’re dancing (I stole that joke from Lewis Grizzard, I know). Dana Carvey’s Church Lady character is funny because it rings true.

But none of this justifies the leap. Brad Pitt may run for mayor. And say the no religion thing isn’t a joke – it is a joke, but say it isn’t – what’s going to happen to charity in New Orleans? Pitt’s all about charity – he’s almost a Republican in that regard – but is he saying as Mayor he won’t work with the local churches? When atheist anti-religionistas complain about religious influence, they never point out the good things religious institutions do for society.

Similarly, many atheists, when pressed, use Doughboy logic to defend atheism. I even heard one, on evil talk radio, ask, “if there was a God, why did he let 9/11 happen?” And I’m not talking about a wacky caller, this was the guest, a spokesman for American Atheists, or some group like that. Why do they have groups? Atheists really conduse me, I gotta say. She went on to offer, “If there was a God, he’s got a lot to answer for!” So because there is evil in the world, there can’t be a God? To this particular atheist/secular humanist, and to about 75% of the ones I’ve talked to, the good in the world exists because of people.

I think my problem with atheists is the same problem they have with religion. Believe or don’t believe what you want to believe of not believe, but don’t impose it on everyone else. The fact that both believers and non-believers alike do this says more about people than it does about God. I suppose not all atheists want to convert the opiated masses; maybe it’s just the ones I talk to. Like the guy who, upon learning of my Christianity, implored me to read Christopher Hitchens’ “God is Not Great.” Turn that around, and I’m a Bible-thumper, y’know? Imposing my views. Nothing amuses me quite like Atheist Evangelism.

Based on a novel by Dan Brown, author of The Da Vinci Code, and featuring the same director-star team as the lucrative 2006 film adaptation of that novel (Ron Howard and Tom Hanks), Angels and Demons brought in approximately $48 million during its first weekend. While enough to edge out Star Trek’s second-weekend take of $43 million, it’s a good deal less than Da Vinci, which snagged a gaudy $77 million during its first three days.

Simple Hollywood film economics explains the matter quite well without reference to any hypothetical backfire effect from church boycotts.

It seems likely, first, that some of the difference between the two films’ initial performance is attributable to the greater popularity of the novel on which the first one was based, and the novelty value of its concept. The Da Vinci Code didn’t need any PR boost from the church–it was based on a huge international bestseller, and its concept was extremely well-known. Angels and Demons, while also a bestseller, was not nearly as big a phenomenon. Most people likely don’t know what it’s actually about.

Bad press from professional film critics is also a factor in audiences’ less enthusiastic response to Angels and Demons–but as an indicator, not a cause. The film adaptation of Angels and Demons received relatively poor reviews, but many big hit films get bad notices from the professional critics, and The Da Vinci Code actually got even worse reviews than the sequel has garnered. So that’s not a cause of the lower box office, but it identifies another factor probably holding down initial audience enthusiasm for Angels and Demons: in addition to the obvious fact that sequels tend not to do as well as the originals because the novelty value is greatly diminished, that effect is especially powerful for sequels to films that drew big audiences but weren’t as entertaining as audiences expected.

Also, while the premise of Angels and Demons is indeed less controversial than that of The Da Vinci Code, that very factor works against the new film by further diminishing the sense of originality behind it, and therefore audiences’ expectations of how interesting it will be, regardless of whether they agree or disagree with the premise.

Thus the diminished novelty value and expected quality level of Angels and Demons vis a vis The Da Vinci Code are probably sufficient to explain the new film’s strong but unspectacular start.

While it’s true that the Catholic Church muted its complaints about Angels and Demons so as not to provide any more free publicity to the film than necessary–in contrast to its full-court press against the openly anti-Christian and anti-Catholic Da Vinci Code–to suggest that the Church’s less intense response accounts for the difference in audience size undoubtedly attributes too much influence to the church over the movie-going habits of an audience that is, after all, largely non-Catholic.

While The Da Vinci Code did better in post-Christian Europe and other non-U.S. countries than in the United States, which remains largely Christian in religious identification and attendance, the Da Vinci Code film and novel made heaps of money in the United States–$217.5 million domestically for the film version, plus DVDs, pay per view, etc.. Unless every atheist in the nation saw it several times, the film and book cannot have offended the U.S. laity nearly as much as they did the Church hierarchy.

Clearly, U.S. Christians were interested in seeing The Da Vinci Code and judging what it had to say. Having been there and done that, however, they seem disinclined to rush right out and repeat the experience. That’s simple common sense, and sufficiently explains the less-passionate initial audience response to Angels and Demons.

—S. T. Karnick, editor of The American Culture