Angels & Demons

When the Vatican officially banned Ron Howard and his crew from filming anywhere near the Holy See, they inadvertently gave Angels & Demons its greatest marketing hook. There is nothing like a "forbidden" movie to pique the interest of the masses, even if the "sin" in question is just a high-concept thriller based on a Dan Brown bestseller. I watched this most recently on a flight where the woman next to me was aggressively knitting a lengthy scarf, and every time Tom Hanks solved a riddle, she’d drop a stitch in what I assumed was vicarious stress.

Coming three years after the leaden, exposition-heavy The Da Vinci Code, this 2009 sequel (which is technically a prequel in book-land) feels like the filmmakers finally figured out the formula. They realized that we aren't here for a history lecture; we’re here for a frantic scavenger hunt through Rome’s most beautiful basements.

A Sprint Through the Holy City

The plot is gloriously absurd: the Pope is dead, four "preferiti" (the top candidates to replace him) have been kidnapped by the Illuminati, and there’s a canister of antimatter hidden somewhere in Vatican City that’s set to turn the place into a crater by midnight. Enter Robert Langdon. Tom Hanks returns with a much-improved haircut—thankfully shedding the "wet-look" mullet from the first film—and a sense of urgency that was missing previously.

What I appreciate about this era of Ron Howard's career is his efficiency. This was the peak of the "Big Budget Procedural." With a massive $150 million budget, he didn't just build sets; he built an entire ecosystem. Because they couldn't film in the real St. Peter’s Square, the production team recreated it on a massive scale at the Hollywood Park racetrack in California. Looking back at it now, the blend of practical sets and 2009-era CGI is surprisingly seamless. There’s a weight to the architecture that you don’t always get in today’s fully digital environments. It captures that specific late-2000s blockbuster aesthetic: slightly desaturated, intensely paced, and deeply earnest about things that are, frankly, quite silly.

The McGregor Factor

While Tom Hanks provides the steady hand, the film's pulse actually comes from Ewan McGregor as the Camerlengo, Patrick McKenna. McGregor plays the role with a soft-spoken intensity that keeps you guessing. He’s the bridge between the ancient traditions of the Church and the terrifying reality of a ticking bomb. His performance is a reminder of how good he is at playing characters who project a calm exterior while their internal gears are spinning at a thousand RPMs.

The supporting cast is equally sturdy. Stellan Skarsgård (who I swear has been playing "intimidating man in a suit" for thirty years) is excellent as Commander Richter, the head of the Swiss Guard. He and Pierfrancesco Favino bring a necessary grit to the proceedings, grounding the "Illuminati" nonsense in a world of protocol and police work. Even Ayelet Zurer, playing scientist Vittoria Vetra, manages to make "looking for a battery" feel like a life-or-death mission, despite the fact that the antimatter canister looks exactly like a high-end thermos from Target.

High Stakes and Hans Zimmer

We have to talk about the music. Hans Zimmer’s score, particularly the track "160 BPM," is the MVP of the film. It’s a relentless, choral-heavy masterpiece that forces the viewer to feel the countdown in their bones. In an era where many franchise scores were starting to sound like generic wallpaper, Zimmer leaned into the religious grandiosity of the setting. It’s one of those scores that makes you feel like you’re accomplishing something monumental just by walking to the kitchen for more popcorn.

The film also benefits from the screenplay work of Akiva Goldsman and David Koepp. They trimmed the fat from Brown’s novel, turning a dense conspiracy into a "Path of Illumination" that feels like a deadly version of The Amazing Race. Yes, the science is questionable, and Robert Langdon has the superhuman ability to never break a sweat while running through 90-degree humidity in a wool suit, but the momentum is undeniable. It captures that post-9/11 anxiety of "invisible enemies" and "technological terror" but wraps it in the comforting, dusty aesthetic of a Renaissance museum.

Ultimately, Angels & Demons is a better movie than its predecessor, even if it lacks the cultural "event" status that the first film enjoyed. It’s a polished, professional piece of entertainment that knows exactly what it is: a religious-themed rollercoaster. While it doesn't offer deep theological insights, it does offer a very fun way to spend two hours watching Tom Hanks look at statues with intense suspicion. It’s the kind of film that defined the 2000s blockbuster—big, loud, expensive, and perfectly crafted for a Saturday night on the couch.