The First Omen. Directed by Arkasha Stevenson. Performances by Nell Tiger Free, Ralph Ineson, and Sonia Braga. 20th Century Studios, 2024.
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Anyone who’s known me for a significant amount of time learns rapidly of my many quirks, eccentricities, and romantic anachronisms—all de rigueur attributes of creatives, so only stuffed shirts, and tight-assed, one-dimensional drones who buy into freeze-dried, shrink-wrapped, corporate conformism find us off-putting (i.e.—threatening). Like many of us, I’m a horror fan—a discriminating one to be sure, though my tastes have evolved and expanded over the years. My first true encounter with the horror genre was the 1979 television mini-series adaptation of Stephen King’s vampire novel ‘Salem’s Lot, directed by Tobe Hooper, starring David Soul, Lew Ayres, and—unforgettably—James Mason as Straker. But as a horror-loving child of the 1970s, and cradle Roman Catholic, my favorite subgenre of is religious horror, which blasted into the popular consciousness with two landmark film classics: William Friedkin’s The Exorcist in 1973, and Richard Donner’s The Omen in 1976.
The Omen, and its two sequels, Damien: Omen II and The Final Conflict are films which have been with me since childhood. For the record, Omen IV: The Awakening is not worth serious consideration by anyone; it has no right to be called a “sequel,” despite its inclusion in the DVD boxed set I have, but that’s a debate I’ll gladly have with anyone daring to accept the challenge, should this poor excuse for a movie have any defenders. It’s more an April Fool’s prank than a movie, but I digress. I was excited to learn of a prequel in the works to the 1976 classic starring Gregory Peck and Lee Remick. The 2006 remake was fun to watch, but didn’t come anywhere near the standard set by the 1976 masterpiece. Aside from the lavish remake, and the unremarkable, irrelevant A&E TV Series Damien in 2016—the franchise was totally dark since the original trilogy, until The First Omen hit theaters one week ago—an ambitious, creative, first entry into film by TV director Arkasha Stevenson, with Nell Tiger Free as the central character—the result was an excellent entry into the religious horror subgenre, with masterful, imaginative use of an existing storyline to craft a final product which is a worthy addition to The Omen cinematic canon. While the film admirably accomplishes its mission as an Omen prequel, a potential plot defect endangers any possibility of spinoffs or parallel sequels which could be explored.
The First Omen: The Basics
The First Omen is set in 1971 in Rome. Sister Margaret (Nell Tiger Free), a novice nun from America, arrives to profess her final vows, and begin working a girls’ orphanage as a teacher. On orphan herself, she’s met on arrival by a longtime friend and mentor, Cardinal Lawrence (Bill Nighy). At the orphanage, she meets her superior, Sister Silva (Sonia Braga), an authoritarian, yet civil and cordial administrator, and friend of Cardinal Lawrence. On a brief orientation tour, Margaret encounters an enigmatic girl, Carlita Scianna, confined to the “Bad Room,” where girls with behavior problems are temporarily confined for punishment. Carlita is emotionally distant, and constantly draws dark, hellish scenes visions of demonic figures, fiery landscapes, and reptilian beasts. Sister Silva informs her that Carlita has serious behavior problems including violent acting out against other girls, so she’s frequently placed in isolation. Nevertheless, Margaret reaches out to Carlita, and shares that she also had visions as a child, acted strangely, and shared Carlita’s predicament, so the two share a bond in their common experience.
Margaret soon discovers something “off” about the place and her new religious colleagues. Her roommate, Sister Luz, is also a novice awaiting her final vows, but rather than pious, meditative preparation for the experience, she is “letting her body breathe” before covering it with a habit the rest of her life—after a day of work at the orphanage, she trades her habit for stylish evening wear, and hits the Rome club scene, partying the night away. Her sophistication—and nonchalance (from Margaret’s view)—seem to conceal a genuine, deep spirituality, revealed by a late night chat between the two about their vocations. Luz recalls being beaten by her parents, thrown out on the street, and feeling the absolute certainty that she would “give her life to him.” Margaret’s new gal-pal is vivacious, sensual, and charismatic—she talks Margaret into ditching her nun garb one night and joining her for a night of clubbing, “to know what she’s giving up.” Surprisingly, the straitlaced American lets loose for an evening of drinking and dancing—striking up a flirtation with a young man named Paolo, only to awake the next morning in the apartment with a massive hangover, ruined makeup, and generally looking like she’s had a pretty rough night. Luz ribs her about being “a really brave girl” and assures her that though she had a very good time, Luz intervened “before things got out of control.”
While exploring Rome, Margaret is approached by Father Brennan (Ralph Ineson), a character played by “second” Doctor Who Patrick Troughton in 1976. He approaches Margaret out of nowhere, and warns her to steer clear of Carlita, because “evil things happen around her.” He claims to know the real story about the orphanage and the sisters Margaret lives and works among. Their interaction is brief—he vanishes, but not before he insists on disclosing his information to her at a meeting that evening.
Brennan informs Margaret of “two churches.” The one he and she loyally serve, and another, composed of high-ranking cardinals, bishops, and other clergy and religious, who are addicted to the personal and political power they yield over masses of people, and the vast horde of wealth they’ve amassed because of their positions. Secularism has caused a falling away from the Church—belief has evaporated and these once-powerful individuals are becoming irrelevant. This group have formed a conspiracy to restore people’s faith via fear, and that the best way to cause fear is to manufacture it—this powerful cabal are in league with Satan to bring the Antichrist into the world, believing that the “Son of Perdition” can be under their control, enabling them to restore the awesome power their kind once held over humanity. At the orphanage, the sisters have been trying to “breed” the Antichrist by an arranged rape of a human woman by Satan himself. Brennan tells Margaret that she can obtain “proof” of this nefarious plan by accessing secret files stored at the orphanage, containing complete birth records. Margaret understandably thinks this is totally insane, and leaves.
But she eventually does obtain the files, which are secreted in a deep a basement, accessed via a secret staircase hidden in Sister Silva’s office. Margaret discovers that several infants have been born and died there over the years—each one named “Scianna,” and sequentially numbered. All have been severely physically deformed, except for the latest—Carlita. A note on her file warns that she is “to be kept away from the other girls.” Margaret is summoned to Sister Silva’s office before she’s able to leave the orphanage and deliver the information to Father Brennan—Sister Silva informs Margaret that she’s being asked to take a step back from taking her final vows, that everyone’s “concerned” about Margaret’s “attachment” to Carlita, along with Margaret’s past history of “mental illness.” Margaret vehemently protests, is seized by several sisters, and confined to the “Bad Room,” where she loses touch with reality: whispers, voices, unearthly sounds, and disturbing visions bombard her to the point of near total collapse, until Father Gabriel (Tawfeek Barhom)—a young priest colleague—breaks into the room—with the purloined files, and spirits Margaret away to Father Brennan’s flat, where the trio pore over the intel—Margaret concludes that she—not Carlita—is the “Scianna” meant to give birth to the Antichrist. In a flashback, she remembers the night she went out partying with Luz, and her dancing with Paolo—she was strapped down naked to a bed in a fresco-decorated room, illumined with candles, and surrounded by a host of black-robed figures, including Luz, Paolo, Sister Silva, Cardinal Lawrence, and the other nuns she works with. A black veil covered her face, and cord was fastened around her neck, while a powerful, reptilian, humanoid creature raped her—Satan himself. Rather than having enjoyed a night of reckless, youthful abandon, Margaret was impregnated by the Prince of Darkness with the Antichrist. We also learn that Margaret bears the telltale “666” birthmark—she was the very first successful “Scianna Baby,” conceived by Satan. The conspirators had persisted in their efforts, since the Antichrist had to be a male, but female progeny were acceptable, since Satan could sire his evil heir on one of his own daughters—adding the perversion of incest into the already overflowing cauldron of depravity. This is a key divergence from the original Omen lore, since Damien’s birth mother is always referred to as a jackal, not a woman. However, his being born of a nun is in line with traditional sermons and commentaries about the Antichrist from some of the Eastern and Western Church Fathers, some of whom speculated that the Antichrist would be the product of an illicit sexual liaison between a “false” or “apostate” nun and a similarly situated, defrocked clergyman, conceived during the rumored orgiastic goings on among Christian Gnostics, and similar speculations.
Margaret’s labor is marked by a state analogous to demonic possession. Her stomach expands like a beach ball, her water breaks, and she writhes and “dances” across the screen while making animalistic grunts and groans; she collapses and is seized by black-robed figures to prepare for the birth ritual, where she meets Cardinal Lawrence, who congratulates her for her fortitude, how important her role is, and so forth. Luz is there, as is Sister Silva and the other orphanage nuns. As if we haven’t seen enough surreal imagery up to this point, when Margaret’s “child” is delivered via caesarian section—a large, slimy, pod-like thing (evocative of the organic video game controllers from David Cronenberg’s eXistenZ) is lifted out of her. The “pod” is sliced open, and a voice proclaims that two infants were birthed (MASSIVE deviation from the original plot)—a girl and—a boy. With the announcement of a masculine child (Luca Brazzi would be overjoyed)—Jerry Goldsmith’s original “Ave, Satani” wonderfully floods the scene of jubilation as Margaret’s wounds are closed. A minor fracas ensues as Margaret drives a concealed scalpel into Cardinal Lawrence’s carotid, blood gushing out everywhere (another bloody end for Bill Nighy as a traitorous mentor-villain, as if Underworld wasn’t enough)—she grabs the infant Antichrist, but Sister Luz rescues him by driving a scalpel into Margaret’s gut in one of the most ice-cold, stone-killer, businesslike manners I’ve seen since Wesley Snipes was building his late-‘80s crack empire in New Jack City. Margaret and her daughter are left to die in a torch job at Sister Silva’s command, but Carlita has been watching the proceedings, and rescues them both. Then, Sister Silva joins Father Spiletto in a limousine on the way to a hospital, where we see a file folder, with a snapshot of Gregory Peck clipped to it—Spiletto gives her a briefing on who Robert Thorn is, the plot for murdering his son and doing a switch-out with the Antichrist, and so forth.
The First Omen closes some time later, in an unidentified Alpine location, where Margaret, her daughter Layla, and Carlita, living in hiding. Father Brennan shows up on their porch one evening, met by a shotgun-wielding Brennan, who informs her that “they” know she’s live, and that “they” will be coming for them all—he also shares with her that her son has been given a name—Damien.
The First Omen: My Thoughts— The Hits, Misses, and Unsolved Mysteries
I found The First Omen an excellent film—I was expecting to find a disappointing pile of cinematic junk, which characterizes the majority of contemporary Hollywood fare, especially when you’re in franchise territory. Disney infamously blew the entire Star Wars property into more microscopic pieces than the original Death Star, turned Indiana Jones from a swashbuckling, picaresque hero into a simpering, emasculated, geriatric, alcoholic wreck, and turned Marvel Comics into an exhibition hall for how not to have anything to do with any creative endeavor involving heroes (super, mid-grade, unleaded, or diesel), villains, stories, plots, or anything which involves the human imagination whatsoever, as if Star Wars and Indiana Jones weren’t enough evidence.
I wasn’t alone in being surprised by this film’s freshness, creativity, and artistry at all levels. Arkasha Stevenson turned in a first-rate performance for a novice film director—it wasn’t an easy task, to be sure. This franchise had been on ice (in its original trilogy form) since the early 1980s, and stood largely forgotten, aside from hardcore horror fans, and occasional TV airings around Halloween. The film’s primary flaw is a potential plot defect. The objective references to the 1976 film (the Peck photo, for instance), realistically bar any further involvement with the original film trilogy. But I see a defect in the overall plot, which, if not rectified, endanger the credibility, and therefore the success, of any spinoff or sequel opportunities rooted in The First Omen’s specific storyline.
The First Omen is aesthetically gorgeous, with excellent cinematography. Breathtaking aerial shots of Rome at different times of day show the grandeur of the Eternal City in a variety of shades of light and dark. Imagery drives the work, with an obvious focus on the eerie and uncanny—shadow is exploited to maximum effect, such that some nighttime shots (such as Margaret making her way to Father Brennan’s flat) evoke film noir, or Brassaï’s famous photographs of Paris at night—the view upward from the secret basement up the stairs to Sister Silva’s office when Margaret opens the door is De Chiricoesque. Visual effects make for some unforgettable, nightmarish sequences. The most impressive and dramatic is an amplified callback to the Thorns’ nanny (played by Holly Palance) in the 1976 film, hanging herself from the family’s mansion at Damien’s lavish fifth birthday party. This time, the sequence involves Sister Anjelica—an eerie, enigmatic side character who says very little, but who stares at Margaret and publicly gives her a Mafia-style “kiss of all kisses” before vanishing. At recess, where the girls are dancing in concentric circles (a wonderful, primitive occult image, given the overall context), Anjelica stands on a ledge, in her habit, sans veil, dripping wet (she’s doused herself in gasoline), with a noose around her neck; while looking down on everyone in the courtyard, she whispers to no one in particular, “It’s all for you,” Holly Palance’s line from The Omen. Anjelica strikes a match, and the nun bursts into flame, stands screaming in agony for a few seconds being roasted alive, then pitches herself off the ledge, crashing through a window! A hardcore, heavy metal music video visual if there ever was one! Margaret sees periodic images of a charred, smiling, laughing Anjelica a few times later on in the film.
Two more brilliant SFX scenes deserve mention. An expectant mother at the orphanage is taken into a birthing room and strapped to a table—Margaret watches. The young woman is thrashing about, grunting and groaning, her behavior very much like one possessed. She’s given some gas to breathe, then stares at Margaret, laughing at her. She starts to give birth, and the attending sisters go to work—eventually, we see a demonic claw emerge from the woman’s dilated vagina, covered in blood. Margaret releases a wail of terror and faints—this was a vision of what she would eventually experience in Act III. This “demonic birthing” scene is what’s believed to be what was so intense and gory in its original version to cause the MPAA to threaten the NC-17 rating if it weren’t toned down in a re-shoot. Perhaps the release of an unrated director’s cut will reveal Stevenson’s original daring vision, which the puritanical MPAA were too cowardly to do.
The other visual shocker involves Paolo—the man Margaret was friendly with when she joined Luz for a night on the town—Paolo, the nice, charming guy who set her up to be impregnated by Satan. Margaret saw him walking down the street one evening and tried to confront him—he apologized to her, but was hit from the side by a truck, then pinned to a wall. She rushed over to comfort him, and while embracing him, turned around, realizing that he’d been sliced in half by the vehicle, and the screams of the bystanders alerted her a split-second before she realized with horror that she held the top half of Paolo in her arms! This film was replete with these and other nightmare moments, which make it unique amidst the contemporary glut of feel-good, mass-produced cinema!
I am not alone among viewers in seeing the obvious influence of Italian giallo cinema on this film, the works of Dario Argento in particular. Of the many giallo classics in that master’s oeuvre, the greatest influence on The First Omen is his 1977 supernatural horror chiller Suspiria. The orphanage evokes the dance academy in Argento’s film, as does the omnipresence of frescoed walls, hidden chambers and the presence of a hidden “clique” of sisters “in the know,” which Margaret is excluded from, as does American dance student Susy Banyon experiences a similar “othering” at the Tanz academy when she arrives, and encounters an equally eccentric band of fellow students. Susy finds a secret passage hidden behind the frescoes of the academy mistress’ office in Suspiria, as Margaret finds the hidden staircase leading to the file room where the details of the “Scianna Project” are kept. There’s also a general parallel with a common Argento story arc: an American comes to Europe (Italy or elsewhere) for a significant personal event or purpose. Shortly after arrival, the person becomes wrapped up in—intentionally or otherwise—some eerie or dangerous series of events (target of a serial killer’s spree, living or working amidst ostensibly benign colleagues concealing a terrible secret, etc.) from which she must escape but they must solve some mystery, uncover a long-hidden secret, etc., after investigating the matter, after placing themselves in mortal danger. These parameters are all present to some degree in The First Omen, and the film was more enjoyable because of it.
Nell Tiger Free was the acting force in this film—she is an outstanding young actress who carried off the complex role of Margaret with great skill. Free took Margaret from saccharine, true-believing optimism to the depths of soul-destroying madness. She saw and felt nightmarish visions, faced the horror of a life (though brief) dedicated to falsehood, her very existence the result of some perverse contract to ensure the power of a super-privileged cabal of self-styled pseudo-emperors. Her body was savagely violated by the Devil—as in Rosemary’s Baby, we don’t see “actual footage” of the act, but hear terrified screams (in the lore of witchcraft, none of the accounts claim that sex with Satan is pleasurable—just sayin’)—she births the prophesied enslaver of the human race, escapes cult murderers, and a host of other events. Free masterfully brought realism to each of these situations within this emotionally demanding role—her emotional range covers deep piety, paranoia, rage, psychotic madness, and mortal terror—every emotion visible to the audience from the screen with passion and intensity. Nell Tiger Free is a very gifted artist, and if her performance in The First Omen is indicative of her potential, we can only expect great things from her in the future.
Now for some bizarre conspiratorial theorizing on my part about a conspiracy! A possible defect in the film’s plot is the script’s stated motivation behind the ecclesiastical conspiracy surrounding the whole Scianna breeding project, etc. As stated by Brennan, 1) extremely powerful, wealthy forces within the Church are losing power and relevance because of a changing, secularizing world; 2) declining belief in God as driven people away from the Church, and it’s only increasing; 3) to turn things around, belief must be restored—the best things to get people believing in something is fear, but there really isn’t that much out there to “fear” anymore in the cosmic sense; 4) so you have to create the fear, and they’ll do that by bringing in the Antichrist to wreak havoc on the human race, and put butts back in the seats and put revenues back on a paying basis. This theory is totally bonkers. Bananas. Ludicrous. Batshit crazy. I think this set of facts is something that they know that Margaret will buy into, because she’s naïve and provincial enough to fall for a bill of goods as flimsy as this, and she’s simply a pawn in their game they only need for a short while. In the 1976 movie, Father Brennan was a defector from the group who tried to warn Ambassador Thorn that Damien wasn’t his son (in David Seltzer’s novel based on the screenplay, he actually killed Thorn’s child and disposed of the body). Here, he’s shown as some sort of “good guy on the run,” hiding out—he even claims to be excommunicated—trying to get the goods on this group to bust them wide open.
From a writing standpoint, The First Omen can only work logically as a prequel if none of the information about the conspirators given in the film or implied about Brennan is true. I can’t see any of it being actually true within the story. Here’s why. These powerful clergy, among the highest there are (allegedly), have wined and dined global leaders, live like kings, and are some of the greatest patrons of the finer things in life there are—popular depictions to the contrary. They frankly could care less about starving, sick children, world peace, or similar matters. In reality, these people are more akin to the movers and shakers at Davos than monastic contemplatives. They used religion as entrée to their positions, but see that as totally negotiable now—if their power, riches, and lifestyles were guaranteed, they’d back any faith, any regime, any government, provided they got a piece of the action. They would be totally on board with an Antichrist agenda (take a look at the Book of Revelation, and look at the people the guy surrounds himself with)—it’s all self-worship, self-aggrandizement. Wealth and sensuality—material excess. These people are also not naïve, stupid bumpkins. Yes, they have the reputation of being theologically “conservative,” perhaps, but not even the most ultra-orthodox factions in the post-Vatican II church believe that some kind of “renewal” can occur through a Joint Venture Agreement with Lucifer. Plus, there’s the whole bit about the Devil being the sworn enemy of God, and the very sticky problem of immortal angelic beings being in a position to engage in bizarre mergers ad acquisitions agreements with the ecclesiastical authorities to—what? What law firm negotiates all this? What exactly does “control the Antichrist” mean, precisely? It’s totally absurd. But, given who Sister Margaret is, and the backwater she comes from, if said with enough gravitas, it’s totally plausible. Brennan, I think, is a “false flag” sort of character—he’s a nice guy, an underdog, trying to expose the bad guys, willing to help, etc. Yes—she’d fall for a fake-out like that all the way. At the very end of the film, when Margaret and the others are in the mountains, and Brennan just shows up to warn her that “they know where you are,” how did he know where she was? He walked right up to her door without so much as a by-your-leave—knew the exact address. Hmmmm. Now, if the material we’ve been given in the script is the storyline in this film universe, and they want to move forward with it as written, this will die on the vine, and end up in the junkpile with Omen IV: The Awakening.
So that’s it, my friends. Before I close, the soundtrack for this film is top-notch. In the theater, it’s amazing. I’ve downloaded it on my Apple Music and it’s the best for nerve-jangling creepiness. Evocative of contemporary classical, to my mind the 1970s stuff of Carmina Burana composer Carl Orff, particularly that far-out, obscure piece De Temporum Fine Comoedia, which I highly recommend, if you like a libretto with atonal shrieking in ancient languages with a theme based on heretical theological works from the third century A.D. But that’s for another time.
Loved how this was another Game of Thrones reunion movie, as Nell Free was Myrcella, Father Harris was Tywin Lannister (her grandpa), & Father Brennan was Dagmer Cleftjaw, who knocked out Theon at Winterfell.
Guess they needed work! 😉
This is a cool movie, but I think they'll be sequals aplenty out of this, since they set up the twin bit. With the 2 women + the baby girl living in the forest away from society, and the premise that they're the "holy ones" in opposition to the evil devil church sect, it just screams "woke" to me. I liked it, and hope it doesn't go this way, but I smell "Rey Skywalker saves the Galaxy" all over this!
Hope I'm wrong. We'll see.
Great review!