The mid 1970s were the point at which horror went big box-office and semi-respectable for the first time in generations, and, as is often the case, it’s hard to put your finger on exactly why this should have happened. Jaws (which is structured and directed like a horror film, even if it’s seldom discussed in those terms) and The Exorcist came along within a couple of years of each other and were both massive hits – this is clearly what got the bandwagon rolling, but why exactly did audiences respond so strongly to those two films? It could just be because they were both very well written, directed and performed, but people looking for a deeper reason have suggested that both of them are, on some level, powered by a distrust of traditional authority figures – doctors and psychologists in The Exorcist, politicians in Jaws.
You don’t need a doctorate in Modern History to figure out why this should have been a live issue in the USA at the time; the Watergate scandal left politics with a bad rep it has never entirely managed to shift. The same themes show up elsewhere, too – and one place we have talked about before is The Devil’s Platform, an episode of Kolchak: The Night Stalker from November 1974. In this story an ambitious young politician who seems on course for the White House proves to be a devil-worshipper, able to transform himself into a slavering hell-hound and cause disastrous accidents to befall his rivals and enemies. There are also some curious photographic anomalies before the tale is resolved. I mention all this again because – rather to my surprise, as I sometimes seem to be the only person who still likes Kolchak enough to write about it – someone has suggested that all these elements make The Devil’s Platform the prime candidate for progenitor of The Omen, which came out a couple of years later and is yet another horror story steeped in distrust of authority figures.
I think we’re in age-shall-not-wither-it-nor-dodgy-sequels-remakes-and-prequels territory here – though, to be strictly fair, the prequel isn’t dreadful and was indeed what prompted me to watch Richard Donner’s original film again. (I am delighted to report that this time my TV remained unexploded by the powers of darkness coursing through it.) This is a somewhat rare beast, in that it’s a heavyweight horror movie written directly for the screen, rather than being a literary adaptation (well, unless you count the Book of Revelations, anyway).
Thought was given to making this an ‘are the dark powers operating, or could it all be just a coincidence?’ take on the story, but this was discarded in favour of a full-on quasi-gothic approach, with Jerry Goldsmith’s Oscar-winning score heavy on choirs chanting ‘hail Satan!’ in Latin whenever one of the frequent good bits comes along. You’re never in much doubt as to what’s going down, unlike the protagonists, which of course might run the risk of making your hero look a bit weak and foolish – which is possibly why they cast Gregory Peck, a figure of unquestionable strength and probity, in the lead role. (Though apparently under consideration for the part if Peck had dropped out was Oliver Reed – The Omen starring Oliver Reed! Does your mouth not just water imagining it? Sigh.)
Anyway, Peck plays Robert Thorn, an American diplomat in Rome, who is dealing with a family crisis as the story starts – his newborn son has just died, and he doesn’t know how he’s going to break the news to his wife (Lee Remick). Well, says the hospital’s obliging priest (Martin Benson), you could always adopt – we do happen to have a spare baby whose mother passed away at the same time as your son (which just happens to be 6am on the 6th of June), why don’t we do a swap? Somehow the movie skates over the rather improbable fact of an American diplomat getting mixed up in this sort of caper and not asking any of the obvious questions – Peck helps to sell it, plus there’s always the fact there’d be no movie otherwise.
Not long after Thorn gets a promotion, or at least a transfer, to the UK, as full ambassador, although he does have to find his own house (I guess not paying fines for parking offences, which by all accounts the American Embassy in London never does, gives them a bit of spare cash to help pay for the enormous mansion the Thorns end up in).
And so Robert and Katherine Thorn are very happy with young Damien. At least until his first nanny spectacularly hangs herself in the middle of his birthday party. And he throws a violent tantrum at even the possibility of being taken to church (is the lad not christened? Again, the film skates past the question). And the animals at Windsor Safari Park are driven into a frenzy by his mere presence. To say nothing of the creepy governess (Billie Whitelaw) who turns up to look after him.
Regular appearances by a semi-crazed priest (Patrick Troughton), who seems to know a bit too much about Damien’s origins, don’t help Thorn’s state of mind, and nor does his death in a freak accident, shortly before another misfortune lands Mrs Thorn in hospital. The questions keep piling up, helpfully summarised by David Warner’s badly-coiffured photographer, and in the end Thorn decides he’s going to get to the bottom of just who (or what) he’s adopted.
Well as I say, there’s never any doubt that the kid is a bad ‘un, for the opening titles alone make it very clear this is going to be a devil-child movie. (This is very much clearer than why the film is called The Omen – which omen are they talking about? Is it the reappearance of the Star of Bethlehem, which is briefly alluded to? The foundation of the State of Israel (which is also apparently a grim portent)? No doubt many politically-engaged dingbats in the UK and beyond will like the suggestion that the formation of the Common Market (precursor to the EU) is a sign that the End Times are on the way.) You’re never far from camp nonsense with this sort of thing and it’s to the enormous credit of Donner and writer David Seltzer that the film stays relatively grounded throughout – it looks and feels almost like a political thriller a lot of the time, and the presence of a very strong cast also helps – Peck’s the big star name, but he’s sharing the screen with performers like Troughton, Warner, and Whitelaw, not to mention an uncredited Leo McKern, all of whom can take material which is an odd combination of exposition and pure fantasy and sell it to the audience.
What also helps is that the film is structured around a string of set-pieces which almost without exception manage to do the business – one of the things that have won The Omen its place in popular culture, apart from Goldsmith’s score, are the various elaborate and spectacular misfortunes that befall various members of the cast: there’s the bit with the church spire, the bit with the sheet of glass, the bit with the tricycle, and so on. You’re never really far from a good death or serious injury with The Omen, although it is slightly surprising how anodyne the film feels nowadays – apart from Peck spiking his arm trying to escape from a pack of hell-hounds, there’s relatively little blood or gore in it, even when someone gets decapitated.
I suppose this is one of the reasons why The Omen was such a huge success (and why they’re still prodding the premise in search of new movie ideas) – it’s a horror movie, but somehow it’s a respectable horror movie: it’s got Gregory Peck in it, who would never do anything crude, it’s made in Europe, where the horror movies are sophisticated, and it doesn’t get carried away with the nasty stuff (this is mostly left implied). Perhaps, as it approaches its fiftieth birthday, it feels a little bit staid and reserved compared to a lot of modern films – but for me it’s still a class act and probably one of my favourite mainstream horror films.
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