On the novelist:
I have not read the novel by Dan Brown on which this film (directed, like its predecessor, “The Da Vinci Code,” by Ron Howard) is based. I have come to believe that to do so would be a sin against my faith, not in the Church of Rome but in the English language, a noble and beleaguered institution against which Mr. Brown practices vile and unspeakable blasphemy.
On the actor:
Played by Tom Hanks in his high minimalist mode, his face stroboscopically snapping from wry smirk to worried squint and back again, Langdon is something of a cipher in his own right, a walking embodiment of skeptical intellect who seems, most of the time, not to have a thought in his head
On the film:
The utter silliness of “Angels & Demons” is either its fatal flaw or its saving grace, and in the spirit of compassion I suppose I’d be inclined to go with the second option. The movie all but begs for such treatment.
“When you write about us,” an erstwhile nemesis says to Langdon near the end, “and you will write about us, do so gently.” It was as if he were looking right into my soul. And how could I refuse such a humble, earnest petition? Go in peace.
The Times more critical than Osservatore Romano? O tempora, o mores!