Well, I watched the premiere of the miniseries A.D. last night on NBC, and, mistaking the scheduled start time, I also watched “Dateline,” and hour-long show about the show, before the premiere started. (I believe “Dateline” is usually more varied, but this particular episode was devoted to the series, as an interview with A.D.’s producers, Roma Downey and Mark Burnett, who also produced the miniseries The Bible and its spinoff Son of God last year.) A film based on Fox News commentator Bill O’Reilly’s book Killing Jesus was also on last night on another channel, and since I don’t have a DVR, I had to choose between the two. I don’t know whether I chose wisely. Promotions made much of the O’Reilly film’s main character being played by a Muslim. Oh, my.

I was wary. The Bible, which can still be seen on Netflix I think, was not offensive and if viewers are not especially sensitive to certain kinds of flaws, it’s worth watching—except for one fatal flaw in Son of God, namely, the ubiquitous presence of Mary Magdalen as the only female disciple of Christ. Even a ten-year-old would understand such a depiction as “Jesus’s girlfriend.” One is thrown back on the hard-core reality that despite all the promotional hoopla of Downey-Burnett, this is after all a totally commercial enterprise, and if they could tap into the Dan Brown fan circle, why not?

For that reason, I found the hour-long interview with the hand-holding couple, featuring clips from promotions at mega-churches, too gooey to endure. What is it about the word “faith” that makes interviewers and interviewees behave strangely? There is a one-second pause before the word is used and another one-second pause afterwards, often accompanied by downcast eyes, as though one must make a momentary inner communion of some kind. I think perhaps it’s code for respectfulness or something.

So—about the show? Well, I would say that if you are at all aesthetically sensitive, you should avoid it. Characterization is soap-operatic at very best; worst of all is Mary, who is downright trite. The interview had promised historical authenticity; I’m no expert, but did everyone in 33 A.D. sit at dining tables, use writing desks, and wear modern fabrics, make-up, and hairstyles? Intermarriage with Europeans must have taken place centuries before: even the high priest Caiphas has curly blonde hair and blue eyes, while his red-haired, hypersexual and politically astute wife wears gowns that might made a Roman woman proud. They reside in a palace as grand as Pontius Pilate’s and wear, I think, at least as many jewels. The apostle John, meanwhile, is a large very black African, whose emotionalism is in stark contrast to cowardly and faithless Peter (strangely lacking in contrition after the crucifixion), who is almost a caricature of an Ashkenazic New York Jew. Those elite few who secretly “know” that Jesus “was” the Lord are a European Mary, whose frown of sadness evokes terrible pity in an African Magdalen and John. German-looking Peter is strangely not among those few who knew Jesus to be the Lord.

I don’t know when the next episode airs because I didn’t pay attention to that announcement, frankly. It has been a long time since I watched a broadcast network movie or series and I had forgotten the ten-minutes of fifteen commercials for every two minutes of film (hyperbole, I know, but not by much). Even if the series were excellent, it does too much psychic damage to watch a depiction of the betrayal of Christ interrupted by ads for wrinkle creams, new cars, and reverse mortgages. The term “sacrilege” has little meaning for commerce.

Yet—it’s something, isn’t it? I mean, it is, as Downey-Burnett says, “getting the message out there.” I’m not sure exactly what that means. I just know that while I maintain a right to judge some things on grounds of taste, and even to some degree on accuracy, I don’t maintain any right to judge otherwise. So—good luck to them. I wish them success.