In the week since Paul Newman died I’ve been looking for the Catholic “hook” to write something here about the great movie star. Providentially, and not surprisingly, thanks to its punchier new style, the Vatican’s official newspaper, L’Osservatore Romano, gave me an opening. The Sept. 29 edition carried an appreciation of the actor, writing:”In his films he was the tough guy and the braggart, the rebel and the conquistador. In reality Newman was a generous heart, an actor of a dignity and style rare in Hollywood quarters.”

Religion News Service’s man in Rome, Francis X. Rocca, gave his entry on the Vatican appreciation one of the better headlines ever: “Peter praises Paul.” The Catholic News Service write-up is more straightforward but has a nice roundup of appreciations from Catholic reviewers. Both RNS and CNS note that L’Osservatore Romano praises Newman’s first big screen role, in “The Silver Chalice,” in which he plays an artisan who crafts a silver chalice to hold the Holy Grail. New man himself hated the role, and when it ran on television in 1966, he took out an ad in a Hollywood trade paper apologizing for it and asking people not to watch. I’ve never seen that movie–and doubt I will at this point–but I couldn’t begin to enumerate the many other fantastic Newman films, from the all-time best buddy movie, “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,” to “Nobody’s Fool” and so on. (See a filmography here.) But I’ll cite the one that the Vatican paper did not, namely, “Cool Hand Luke.” Forget the bailout (the financial package, not Sarah Palin’s performance). Watch that again this weekend. Not only does it have as many great lines and great performances as, say “Casablanca,” but it is also a Christian allegory of sorts–as the CNS story says, “a Christ figure coming to the nasty world of the prison and sacrificing himself for others–not in a very conscious, churchy way but in a subtle, very intelligent way.”"It was a very, very good film. It was shown a lot in the 1960s and ’70s in a lot of church halls as well as at film festivals,” the retired reviewer of St. Anthony Messenger, Jim Arnold, said. I’d have to agree. Besides, there is that very moving moment–which is usually played for laughs today–when Newman plucks out the tune to “Plastic Jesus” and sings to himself after he learns his mother has died. There are many versions, many lyrics, but here’s the best I could find. Better yet, watch it on YouTube:

I don’t care if it rains or freezeslong as I’ve got my Plastic JesusGlued to the dashboard of my car,You can buy Him phosphorescentGlows in the dark, He’s Pink and Pleasant,Take Him with you when you’re travelling far.I don’t care if it’s dark or scary,Long as I have magnetic Mary,Ridin’ on the dashboard of my car,I feel I’m protected amply,I’ve got the whole damn Holy Family,Riding on the dashboard of my car.You can buy a Sweet MadonnaDressed in rhinestones sitting on aPedestal of abalone shell,Goin’ ninety, I’m not wary’Cause I’ve got my Virgin Mary,Guaranteeing I won’t go to Hell.

Newman was also of course a remarkable humanitarian, a loving husband and father, and about as human a celebrity as one could find. I’d advise starting with this NYT appreciation, “An Actor Whose Baby Blues Came in Shades of Gray.”Requiescat in pace.