Film Review - The First Omen
Images courtesy of 20th Century Studios.
In the realm of horror, few films manage to strike a balance between the grotesque and the artful as deftly as Arkasha Stevenson's The First Omen. This 2024 prequel to the iconic '70s horror staple not only pays homage to its predecessor but also carves out its own niche in the genre, despite its close proximity to NEON’s Immaculate, being released mere weeks later. Yes, it's another film that centers on a nun emigrating from the US to Rome, only to become embroiled in a conspiracy that involves the conception of a child who will save the church. Fool me once, shame on you, but fool me twice, I'll have a pretty good time, apparently.
Following Nell Tiger Free’s Margaret as she travels to an orphanage in Italy in the midst of its Years of Lead, a political insurrection that spanned decades, as the mysterious Father Brennan (Ralph Ineson) begins to warn her of a malicious cult within the church. After a night of drinking and dancing with fellow novitiate Luz (Maria Caballero), Margaret awakes to find she has little recollection from the night before, and begins to find herself drawn closer to a young girl by the name of Carlita (Nicole Sorace), the orphanage’s black sheep. While this may sound like stock standard stuff, in execution that couldn't be any further from the truth.
Stevenson's film is a tapestry of terror, woven with threads of dread that tug at primal fears, brutally weaponising the body horror inherent in childbirth. The film's birthing scenes are terrifyingly effective, turning the miracle of life into a waking nightmare, without ever feeling like it's just using these sequences for shock value (although apparently one shot had to be cut to stop the film from receiving an NC-17 rating). Omen’s brief depictions of birthing pain are intense, brought to life by a haunting performance no doubt partially inspired by Isabelle Adjani in Possession, and complemented by searing practical effects and visual flair.
The visceral imagery is at times breathtakingly beautiful, a paradox that cinematographer Aaron Morton (whose previous credits include the 2013 reboot of Evil Dead and last year's sleeper hit No One Will Save You) embraces with open arms. Right from the opening (which sees a stained glass chapel window shattering and falling in slow-motion), I was immediately taken aback by how much care was being put into the framing. Scenes that showcase the grotesque are often shot with such precision that one can’t help but admire the artistry involved - a close up of an eyeball during the film's climax legitimately could work as an art piece all on its own. Using a blend of 70s and modern stylisation, Morton crafts intentful compositions, where the horror of what's unfolding is juxtaposed with the almost serene beauty of its presentation.
It's only in the final breaths of the last act that the shoehorning in of franchise threads threaten to overcome the film's strengths, and it seems perhaps a little too clear that Stevenson is less interested in putting the same passion into directing these scenes as she did the bulk of the film beforehand. I doubt that studio execs were expecting any literal continuations for this film and suspect that the stuffing is to tie it into the other four Omen films that already exist, which eventually see Damien in a race to stop the second coming of Jesus, although it's a shame because this is the kind of horror film I actually wouldn't mind seeing more of. In all honesty, it's kind of a miracle that this film even exists and was able to get a cinematic release under Disney’s ownership of Twentieth Century Studios, given how nasty it is.
The release window being as close to the Sydney Sweeney-starring Immaculate as it is is worth noting, especially considering the times that we live in. Bilge Edibiri of Vulture draws a compelling link that postures both films as a natural response to the overturning of Roe v. Wade, given their similar themes of female bodily autonomy being taken away by religious organisations worried about their fading relevancy. After all, many horror films act as a mirror to society’s fears, in a similar way that both Them and Gojira were a product of different nation’s anxieties towards an impending nuclear threat (not to say that either First Omen or Immaculate seem poised to have the same historical significance as either the movie about giant ants or Godzilla).
In conclusion, The First Omen is a quiet triumph for modern horror, understanding the delicate balance between terror and beauty, and between homage and innovation. While First Omen may not reinvent the wheel, it certainly refines it, and as much as Immaculate may be the pregnant nun movie getting all the fanfare, it seems clear that this kind of story needs a woman in the director's chair who knows how to make the best use of its intentions.
Follow Eli on Letterboxd, Twitter/X and Instagram.
The First Omen is screening in cinemas now. For tickets and more info, click here.