Self-sacrifice of any kind is an inherently rakish act, and voluntarily meeting one’s maker so that the human race can continue to exist is surely an act of sacrifice in its purest form. At the very least, it makes perfecting sabrage, customising a 1963 DB5 in chalkstripe vicuña, and being able to discern a Milanese buttonhole from a standard one look like modestly rakish achievements.
In fact, so rarefied a was resurrected; and it would be reductive, sacrilegiously so, to refer to Jesus Christ — the main protagonist of more than 120 movies — as a ‘character’ (plus, he came back to life).
