Paul Roumanet, curé of Saint-Sulpice in the 6th arrondissement's Luxembourg quarter, stands near the high altar of his magnificent baroque church, a bemused expression on his face, watching the tourists mill around him.
With the exquisite light from the 17th-century yellow stained-glass window of Jesus in glory bathing the interior of one of France's ecclesiastical architectural treasures, the priest mildly observes: "I can always tell The Da Vinc i Code tourists from the others. Always." The corners of his mouth lift in a smile. "They are not a great interruption right now."
Yes, but Father Roumanet is waiting.
Next week, the mega-tsunami of U.S. mass culture is expected to burst through Saint-Sulpice's doors, flood Paris, drench London and all but wash away the Scottish village of Rosslyn.
At the Cannes film festival on May 17, Hollywood will unveil its version of Dan Brown's numbingly successful novel -- 40 million copies sold -- of weirdly recast Christianity. Two days later, the movie will open on 100,000 screens around the world, possibly the most overhyped, mammothly avaricious entertainment event the world has ever known.
Sony Pictures has spent an estimated $45-million to market the film in the United States alone (the company has hired a publicist, Grace Media, that specializes in luring Christians to movies). The official French, British and Scottish tourism boards along with high-speed rail service Eurostar and hotel chain Novotel have all signed partnership contracts -- Code-tail agreements -- with Sony to mutually promote the film and Da Vinci-related travel.
Europe is thick with outstretched palms.
Thirty companies in Paris have sprung up to offer Da Vinci Code tours, quick-march walks past city sites mentioned in the novel.
Paris's famed Ritz Hotel offers a $900 night in Room 512 -- bathrobe, breakfast and illustrated copy of the book included -- where apparently the opening shot of the movie (Da Vinci good guy Robert Langdon is a hotel guest) was filmed.
Olivia Tsu Decker, the Chinese-American owner of Chateau de Villette on the Paris-outskirts, which appears in 20 chapters of The Da Vinci Code as the home of bad guy Sir Leigh Teabing, is charging $9,000 a day for a rental.
Ms. Decker, a San Francisco-based realtor who sells only houses valued above $5-million (U.S.), has a good eye for Da Vinci industry financial returns. Her other chateau outside Aix-en-Provence she advertises as being on the pilgrims' path of Mary Magdalene, who in Dan Brown's novel marries Jesus and bears his children, who later become the Merovingian kings of France. And a journalist invited for lunch at the Chateau de Villette is discreetly billed 32 euros ($45) after coffee.
On the other side of the English Channel, London's Westminster Abbey said no to the movie company's request to film on-site -- terming the novel "theologically unsound" -- but 275 kilometres to the north, the clergy of Lincoln Cathedral, cheerfully rendering unto Caesar what is Caesar's, accepted $200,000 to be an abbey stand-in.
Paris's Musée du Louvre, site of the grisly murder of curator Jacques Saunière that ignites Mr. Brown's plot, also said no to the film company, but was overruled by French President Jacques Chirac, and so the actors and cameras moved into the museum's corridors for a week of night shoots last July.
(A spokeswoman for the Louvre refuses to discuss the filming, the book, or the tourism impact. "We will talk about our collections," she says. "Not about anything else.")
And, of course, Ms. Decker said yes, welcoming 850 members of the film crew in 80 trucks and helicopters onto her property for nine days and allowing her antique pale-yellow floral-patterned sofas and arm-chairs to be replaced by dark, heavy masculine furniture considered to be the taste of evil Sir Leigh.
