On June 6th, 2006, my father and I walked into a theater to watch The Omen (2006), a remake of the Richard Donner classic. Once it was over, I was left feeling unfazed by the stereotypical trappings in most 2000s horror remakes. That was it for The Omen; the legacy of the original was put to rest by a generic remake that made it seem there was no more room to grow. Never underestimate Hollywood’s propensity to dig up and re-energize any type of brand–my attitude walking into The First Omen (2024), a prequel to the Donner film that would explain the origins of Damien before he was placed in Gregory Peck’s hands.
Thankfully (and surprisingly), I walked out of the film more invigorated and excited at the arrival of a new voice in the horror space with writer/director Arkasha Stevenson. The First Omen avoids the typical pitfalls prevalent in numerous horror spin-offs, sequels, prequels, reboots, etc., and avoids the tired cliches of cheap jump scares. Stevenson crafts a genuine horror film with a compelling narrative — led by a magnificent central performance in Nell Tiger Free — surrounded by immaculate craftsmanship, proving it to be one of the best studio horror films in quite some time.
The film takes place in 1971 Rome as an American novitiate, Margaret Daino (Nell Tiger Free), arrives to take her vows at the Vizzardeli Orphanage, headed by Cardinal Lawrence (Bill Nighy) and Sister Silvia (Sônia Braga). Margaret arrives at a time of leftist civil unrest, a rejection of religious institutions, and when women can freely express themselves and reclaim their personhood. Lawrence believes people like Margaret can help instill religious teachings and lessons in a new generation of girls at their covenant. Margaret encounters a peculiar girl, Carlita (Nicole Sorace), who lashes out at other girls and nuns, draws creepy images on the floor and is kept in an isolated room. The two form a friendship through their shared troubled childhoods.
Margaret begins to hear voices that surround her with hallucinatory images of death and a dread-inducing fear, all of it somehow connected to Carlita. Her suspicion is confirmed by the presence of Father Brennan (Ralph Inseson), a priest ex-communicated from the Orphanage who believes Carlita is the antichrist who has been bred and manipulated by the Church. None of this is a surprise, as Brennan is a supporting character in the 1976 film (played by Patrick Troughton). To have Father Brennan be more pertinent in the Omen lore leads to him having a more pivotal role in working with Margaret in how Carlita fits within the Devil’s plan to being born, as people around Margaret start to die in freak accidents, similar to the narrative structure of the original film.
Stevenson and her co-writers, Tim Smith and Keith Thomas, craft an intelligent horror film that takes its time developing Margaret into a three-dimensional heroine whose hope and optimism slowly erode into disgust and terror. It’s strange timing that this film should arrive in a post-Roe v. Wade world where bodily autonomy has become a focal point in politics; it feels natural and pointed involving the forced birth of a demonic hellspawn. The film slowly demonstrates that sometimes the worst kind of evil is people, as the Church feels inept in combating secularism and cultural shifts in a post-modern world. Thus, they take on the mantle of becoming a malicious institute of domineering power and control. In one sequence that involves a gruesome forced birth, the film brings about ideas of loss of autonomy in the name of religious righteousness.
The film never delves into being too churchy or moralizing its politics, as its main intention is to scare the ever-living crap out of you. While jump scares are few and far between, Stevenson and cinematographer Aaron Morton have a keen understanding of tension-building and suspense. One of the most unsettling moments in the film takes place entirely in the dark—the lighting gradually illuminates the unseen horror lurking in the dark as Sister Margaret is trapped. It’s one of the most hair-raising moments I’ve had with a horror film.
Most horror films would benefit from having such a patient hand, yet it’s so rare to see a horror film feel purposeful and respectful of an audience. The film looks and feels in tangent with the 1976 film in its framing and construction with the production and period design of 1970s Rome. With how easy and cheap the genre has become due to an oversaturation of cheap flicks, it’s refreshing to see a film (a prequel, no less) be afforded a remarkable budget.
Nell Tiger Free, who previously held a main role on the Apple TV+ show Servant, bursts onto the cinematic scene with her star-making performance. Sister Margaret is self-conscious, almost innocent in how little she’s been exposed to the world. On her first day, she rooms with another novitiate, Luz (Maria Caballero), who’s far more rambunctious and daring. She makes nightly escapades to the club, dresses beautifully, and, in Margaret’s eyes, shows a lot of skin. One of the best scenes in the film is Margaret slowly feeling comfortable in her skin as she bears a one-piece dress, hits the Italian dance floor, and dances with a man as she downs shots. Yet this is the first time when she feels tempted by human vices that expose her to demonic voices and horrifying imagery.
Free transforms herself, beginning as a naive but empathetic sister who brings comfort and companionship to the ostracized Carlita to a subject of demonic horrors. Her moral compass is stripped away from her soul, and her body contorts under a demonic influence that manages to be an unnerving (and loving) homage to Isabelle Adjani’s subway breakdown in Possession (1981). Nighy, Sorace, and Braga are great additions in fueling the paranoia Free feels, as she begins to ponder if her notions of God and goodness have been skewed to feed into a cultish belief of horror and fear. Inneson is a wonderful Father Brennan, following the depictions made by Troughton and Pete Postlethwaite in the remake. There’s a scared urgency in Brennan, unshaken in his beliefs that any insult to God must be destroyed, and his communication with Margaret only stokes his fear that the church he once served could be capable of such horrific wrongdoing.
Aside from the last scene—which feels hackneyed from a recent trend of trying to give the audience a happy, conclusive yet shoehorned ending—The First Omen feels like a godsend for the horror genre. To witness a new, exciting voice in the genre feels akin to when Ari Aster sliced heads in Hereditary (2018); Arkasha Stevenson is a director to pay attention to. She could’ve played it safe and inserted a plethora of cheap jump scares and lackluster imagery that will never get under your skin, but Stevenson does the opposite. She wants you to squirm and feel uncomfortable.
It’s hard to know if 20th Century Studios saw the horror gem they had in how they released it so closely to another provocative nun horror film, Immaculate (2024). Long are the days when Jerry Goldsmith’s Oscar-winning “Ava Satani” chant would send shivers down peoples’ spines, yet The First Omen demonstrates that the most insidious horror exists behind the faces of people who say they care for us. Manipulation makes us feel at ease and let our guard down so that the true psychologically damning horror creeps into our souls and corrupts us within. Much like in real life, the church in The First Omen genuinely believes its ethos is a righteous, morally sound belief by twisting ideology to fit within its control. Thankfully, the film also makes you a believer that a horror prequel in 2024 is the best horror film of the year.
Review Courtesy of Amritpal Rai
Feature Image Credit to 20th Century Studios via Fort Worth Report