The Curious Case of Paul Newman and The Holy Grail

Imagine yourself in late 1950s America or perhaps even the early 1960s, the era glamorized by AMC's Mad Men. If you like, Kennedy is still alive and kicking, and Jackie looks as close to a movie star as the First Lady is ever likely to get. Elsewhere, the natives are restless. Martin Luther King Jr. is leading his troops towards the promise of a much better tomorrow. In short, the Camelot era is approaching its height. Now, you've been invited to a house party by none other than Paul Newman, one of the major stars from classic Hollywood. You dress up in the best clothes you have, you may even buy a new tuxedo or a brand new evening gown to shame the competition. Then, the moment you enter Mr. Newman's presumably not-so-humble abode, you've been given your quota of pots, wooden spoons, and whistles.

He clearly sees himself as quite the roast-master.

That's not a mistake. Paul Newman or maybe Joanne Woodward go around issuing what will be the ammunition to ridicule his introductory film, The Silver Chalice. Is this a challenge? Does he think so highly of his acting abilities to the point where he believes no one will have a chance to use the pots and pans? Not at all. You see, in Newman's eyes, The Silver Chalice was "the worst motion picture produced in the 1950s."

After watching a few scenes, you suddenly see why. Even Paul Newman, the illustrious star who gave the world excellent performances in Cat On a Hot Tin Roof and The Hustler, is very dead. He is Basil, a Greek pagan whose purpose is to see the face of Jesus and eventually convert to the fledgling Christian faith. I'm sure no one in the room finds his portrayal of religiosity as truthful. He was by no means a religious man and has said that he does not believe there is an afterlife (He was, however, a minister with the Universal Life Church and very charitable with his Newman's Own organization). With this information, the question might be asked, "Paul, why did you take this role?" 

The answer to the question may be a mystery, as he was a successful stage actor with credits such as Picnic and The Desperate Hours under his belt. Maybe he saw a chance to make the jump to Hollywood and took it, no questions asked. When examining the movie's cartoonish feel (I'm convinced that Jack Palance, the bad guy Simon the Magician, took his character to a heavy extreme because the whole thing played out as a ridiculous mess) and Paul Newman's later success, this would appear likely. 

After all, how bad could an adaptation of a massively successful novel, a hero's quest at that, be? Just picture the novelist turning over in his grave while you furiously slam pots and pans with the rest of Hollywood upper crust.