Milla Jovovich sees the vision in "The Messenger."

DOGMA - 3/4

THE MESSENGER: THE STORY OF JOAN OF ARC - 2/4

Two views of God and the Roman Catholic Church, and you'd be surprised which one is better at keeping the faith.

How do you take your Catholicism -- straight up, or with a twist? Your answer could determine which movie you see this weekend, and possibly whether you'll go to hell.

Luc Besson's "The Messenger: The Story of Joan of Arc'' is a sprawling and serious epic that, in the grand old tradition of Cecil B. deMille, trumpets its religious piety while getting away with all manner of nasty behavior. Kevin Smith's comedy "Dogma'' applies the "South Park'' approach, using foul humor and sure-to-be-offensive observations to make salient points about God, Jesus and the Catholic church in the modern era.

It's probably a given that the slashing humor of "Dogma'' is more entertaining than the overwrought theatrics and bloody spectacle of "The Messenger.'' But the real surprise is that "Dogma'' also is the more thoughtful examination of religion and faith -- which, both movies point out, are entirely different things.

Your parish priest might disagree with that assessment, and certainly William Donohue will. Donohue is president of the Catholic League for Religion and Civil Rights, which speaks up vocally against what it deems anti-Catholic -- and "Dogma'' is the group's Public Enemy No. 1. The group mounted a publicity campaign against "Dogma's'' original distributor, Miramax, and its parent corporation, the Walt Disney Company. Miramax bosses Harvey and Bob Weinstein let Disney off the hook, paying off "Dogma's'' expenses and shopping it to the independent Lions Gate Films. That isn't good enough for Donohue, who has collected 300,000 signatures on a petition to Disney chairman Michael Eisner, demanding Disney cut ties with Miramax. (A cynic might wonder if Donohue is getting paid by the Weinsteins -- after all, nothing sells tickets like controversy.)

In "Dogma,'' writer-director Kevin Smith shows he paid attention in catechism, maybe a little too much attention. His reductio ad absurdum take on Catholic doctrine is shown through Loki (Matt Damon) and Bartleby (Ben Affleck), angels cast out of heaven for questioning God's will. After centuries of living on Earth, specifically Milwaukee, they think they have found a loophole back into Heaven: They will transsubstantiate into human form, pass under the arch of a newly reconsecrated church in New Jersey, and seek forgiveness -- which they will receive automatically, under the doctrine of "plenary indulgence.''

The problem, as the angel Metatron (a sarcastic Alan Rickman) explains it, is Loki and Bartleby's readmission into Heaven would prove God is wrong -- and since existence is based on God's infallibility, proving God wrong would negate all existence. So Metatron calls upon Bethany Sloane (Linda Fiorentino) to stop the fallen angels and save the universe. Bethany, a practicing Catholic working in a women's clinic where abortions are performed, has been questioning her belief since she learned she is infertile.

This ragtag religious road trip is a raucous adventure, as Smith throws all kinds of things at the screen to see what sticks: a self-proclaimed 13th apostle (the coarsely funny Chris Rock) who claims he was edited out of the Bible for racist reasons; an ex-muse (Salma Hayek) moonlighting in a strip club; a pompous cardinal (George Carlin) bent on modernizing the Catholic Church's image; the evil angel Azreal ("Mumford's'' Jason Lee) and his demonic hockey-playing minions; and Jay and Silent Bob -- the recurring characters from Smith's "Clerks,'' "Mallrats'' and "Chasing Amy,'' played by Jason Mewes and Smith himself.

Meanwhile, Loki and Bartleby figure, since they're going to be forgiven anyway, they will go out with a last blast of righteous mass murder. Their chief target is a media conglomerate that promotes Mooby, a golden-calf icon that bears no small resemblance to a certain cartoon mouse. Maybe Donohue isn't the only one with a beef against Disney.

More often than not -- and Jay and Silent Bob are the "not'' -- "Dogma'' (rated R for strong language including sex-related dialogue, violence, crude humor and some drug content) scores with its wicked, gross and gloriously over-the-top humor. But there's something behind the poop jokes and four-letter words; there is the small, soft voice of a filmmaker trying to figure out his faith. In the end, by cutting through doctrine to get to the core of belief, Smith gets down with God. God, taking the human form of singer Alanis Morissette, celebrates by doing a handstand -- and the heavens do not fall on Bethany, Smith or us.

But the heavens move mightily for French director Luc Besson in "The Messenger.'' Storms rage, battles are fought and blood spills in the way that only happens in a big-budget epic. But what Besson ("The Fifth Element'') lavishes on spectacle, he scrimps on understanding.

Besson begins in 1420, as England is invading France -- and Jeanne d'Arc is a happy child who attends church daily, sometimes going to confession a couple of times a day just to be closer to God. When her family's village is destroyed and she witnesses an English soldier rape and murder her sister, Jeanne begins to see visions of a throne, a sword and Jesus himself.

Jeanne (played as a teen by Milla Jovovich) imparts her visions to the Dauphin, Charles VII (a preening John Malkovich), heir to the French crown -- and persuades the Dauphin to give her an army to lead into battle against the English. Besson and co-screenwriter Andrew Birkin (who plays one of the English commanders) ascribe a mundane motive for the Dauphin's approval: public relations. "If [the masses] believe in her, if she can put the fire back in our army, then I believe in her, too,'' says the Dauphin's mother-in-law, Yolande d'Aragon (Faye Dunaway), talking like a seasoned D.C. spin doctor.

What follows are some ferocious battle scenes steeped in mud and blood. These scenes are notable for their humor -- some of it is intentional, as the captains (led by French star Tcheky Karyo) shake their heads at Jeanne's drive; but the gruesomeness of the decapitations and amputations is so graphic as to become unintentionally funny, a throwback to the Black Knight's battle from "Monty Python and the Holy Grail.'' (The movie earns its R rating "for strong graphic battles, a rape and some language.'')

"The Messenger'' needs a strong center, and Jovovich unfortunately isn't up to the task. The model-singer-actress (who divorced Besson after filming) appears wild-eyed and intense to the point of hyperventilation, but her face becomes a mask behind which the audience is never allowed to look. It would be too easy to say Jovovich can't act; it's more accurate to say she did exactly what Besson told her to do, which plainly wasn't enough. (For a fascinating disertation on the no-win proposition of playing Joan of Arc, and the perils of appearing in your husband's movies, seek out Mark Rappaport's 1995 film "From the Journals of Jean Seberg,'' featuring the beyond-the-grave musings of the star of "Saint Joan'' and "Breathless.'')

The finale of "The Messenger'' swings on the machinations of the Catholic church to ferret out Jeanne's heresy, while Jeanne wrestles her conscience (in the form of Dustin Hoffman) and questions her faith. In doing so, Besson manages to slam the Catholic church harder than "Dogma'' does, while reducing Jeanne's belief to a prosecutorial question of mental competence. "The Messenger,'' in the end, is too mired in earthbound concerns of political intrigue and power struggles -- while "Dogma,'' by willing to risk damnation, celebrates its faith and demonstrates a touch of the divine spark.