The Omen (2006 remake) Review

The Film


Note: This portion of the review is largely the same as what I wrote for the 2006 DVD release.

Robert Thorn (Liev Schreiber), an American politician living in Rome, receives news at 6 AM on June 6th that his wife, Katherine (Julia Stiles), has given birth to a stillborn child. To shield his wife from the horror, he accepts a priest's offer to replace their dead child with a baby born the same night whose mother died in childbirth. Shortly afterwards, Thorn is appointed Ambassador to Great Britain, for which he departs, taking with him Katherine and their young child, ominously christened Damien (Seamus Davey-Fitzpatrick). Life is peaceful until, on Damien's sixth birthday, his nanny hangs herself before a crowd of horrified onlookers, with a cry to Damien of "It's all you for you!" The nanny's death is just the first of a series of sinister happenings and, as Thorn investigates further, he becomes convinced that the child he is raising is the son of the Devil...

Sound familiar? It should: it's exactly the same synopsis I used for my review of Richard Donner's 1976 The Omen back in June 2006. I now find myself reviewing another film called The Omen, featuring the exact same plot and characters and, on a number of occasions, the exact same dialogue. The 2006 version of The Omen is everything that a remake should not be: a slavish carbon copy of its predecessor. Obviously commissioned for no reason other than the fact that the marketing possibilities of a 6/6/06 release date were too good to pass up, its existence is something like serving up a meal several days past its sell-by date, where what was once a tasty dish has now become cold and stale.


If I was organising a class on cinematic technique, the viewing of both versions of The Omen would definitely be a mandatory part of the curriculum, since the two, watched back to back, serve as an extremely effective demonstration of how a film can succeed or fail almost entirely based on how its director chooses to execute it. After all, the script, when all said and done, is hardly a masterpiece: David Seltzer wrote it not because he had any deep interest in the Occult but because he needed the money. It was a combination of several factors, most noticeably Jerry Goldsmith's amazing score and Richard Donner's slick direction, that turned it into one of the most gripping and enjoyable horror films ever made. Director John Moore, who takes a nearly identical script, with only minor modifications (considered so minute that the WGA denied credit to Dan McDermott, the writer brought in to "reimagine" it), succeeds in turning out a deadweight from almost exactly the same material.

The differences in technique are visible right from the start, arguably nowhere more clearly than in the scene in which Thorn arrives at the hospital, and is greeted with the news that his newborn son is dead. Donner plays the scene for its stillness, favouring wide shots and largely static camerawork. Moore, on the other hand, shoots the scene with the camera swaying around like a lunatic, while the claustrophobic close-ups serve only to make the scene more nauseating. It's a matter of personal experience, I suppose, but I know which version more effectively captures the delivering of tragic news, and it definitely isn't Moore's. Another case in point: the scene where Thorn meets Father Brennan (Patrick Troughton in the original, Pete Postlethwaite in the remake) and learns about his son's identity. In the original, Donner had the scene take place on a tranquil afternoon in autumn, with the wind gradually rising and the tension slowly building to a crescendo. Moore, instead, shoots the whole scene at night in the middle of a thunderstorm and has his actors shout their lines over a cacophony of background noise. One is eerie and genuinely unsettling; the other is sensory overkill.


Before, I mentioned that almost exactly the same script was used for both films, to the remake's detriment. However, the minor changes made by McDermott are perhaps even more destructive than his otherwise slavish faithfulness to Seltzer's material. The new opening sequence, showing an emergency meeting in the Vatican, is utterly ridiculous, using photographs of real-life disasters like 9/11 and the 2004 tsunami as evidence of the Antichrist's arrival. Not only is the sight of a group of priests solemnly nodding their heads and whispering horrified prayers at the sight of this crackpot theory verging on hilarious, it disrupts the momentum of the narrative and firmly establishes the events that are about to take place as utterly real. In the original, Donner allowed for the possibility that Thorn could in fact simply be deluded; Moore either thinks his audience isn't smart enough to make up its own mind, or is himself not smart enough to realise the territory that could be mined if he were to allow for ambiguity.

It's not just Moore's treatment of the subject matter that irks: his film also looks incredibly boring. Generally speaking, the recent trend to dig 1970s horror films out of the vaults and remake them has been accompanied by higher production values and glossier cinematography (whether or not such "improvements" are justified). The original The Omen was actually a fairly cheap effort (Gregory Peck took a pay cut, and the bulk of the budget went to securing Jerry Goldsmith for the score), but it looked beautiful, thanks to the keen visual sense of Donner and cinematographer Gil Taylor, who made the unusual decision to shoot the largely character-driven drama in Scope. Moore's film is the first horror remake I've seen that actually looks less polished than its predecessor. Framed at 1.85:1, it loses the scale of the original, and, much of the time, looks drab and grotty, almost like a TV movie in places, something which no amount of fancy digital grading can hide, while the continual use of the colour red to foreshadow death is staggeringly ham-fisted.


Even the generally impressive cast is a disaster. In the role of Thorn, Liev Schreiber, more youthful and supposedly more "relevant" to today's audiences than Gregory Peck, is as wooden as a forest. The same accusation could also be made about Peck's performance in the original, it's true, but the difference is that Peck carried with him such presence and respect that, as Donner put it, if he thinks his child is the Antichrist, it must be true. Schreiber doesn't carry this level of baggage, and as a result has to get by on his performance alone, which is decidedly apathetic. Julia Stiles, too, try as she might, is utterly unconvincing as his wife. She's far too young, and delivers her lines as if she were simply reading them from the page. Meanwhile, as Damien, Seamus Davey-Fitzpatrick makes a poor substitute for Harvey Stephens. The horror of the original version came in no small part from the notion that a completely normal little boy could be a thing of innate evil. Davey-Fitzpatrick, on the other hand, continually tries self-consciously to be scary - something which he quite categorically is not. He glowers and plays to the camera, but is never remotely convincing. This is not a child with evil inside him, but a child who has been told to play evil.

The rest of the performances are merely unremarkable, with Michael Gambon, Pete Postlethwaite and David Thewlis squandered in roles which don't really allow them to deliver anything but the bare essentials. Mention must, however, go to Mia Farrow, who inexplicably plays the sinister Mrs. Baylock as some sort of happy-go-lucky evangelist. Presumably, the intention was to contrast her cheery naivety with her evil intentions, but the effect comes across as infantile and never once comes close to matching the chilling performance of Billie Whitelaw in the original. Compare, for instance, her initial encounter with Damien, where she informs the child that she is "here to protect [him]". When Whitelaw delivers the line, it's chilling. Farrow strips it of all its threat and reads it as a sincere statement of good intent. It's bizarre, given that the rest of the film is at such pains to portray the events as literal manifestations of the Devil, that the portrayal of Mrs. Baylock goes so far in the other direction.


The only truly effective moments come from a handful of dream sequences not in the original film, although they "scare" by suddenly playing loud noises instead of actually unsettling the audience. Meanwhile, Marco Beltrami's generic horror score (the one that he has recycled since Scream) is an even poorer substitute for Jerry Goldsmith's Oscar-winning effort than I ever thought possible, its only decent moments being the occasions in which he mimics Goldsmith's poetic love theme from the original.

The biggest problem, perhaps, is that the original has become such an icon of horror cinema that it is impossible to imagine the same events taking place in 2006. The name Damien, after all, has become so intrinsically linked to the Devil (thanks in no small part to The Omen's success) that a modern film in which a child called Damien turns out to be the Antichrist is verging on comedy. To be brutally honest, The Omen is not a film that needed to be remade. Those involved have nothing fresh to say, and are simply piggybacking on the marketing possibilities of the title and release date. I'm sure this is one of those occasions where defenders of the remake will be lining up to accuse me of unfairly slating it simply because I love the original, but I would like to think that I'm not so closed-minded that as to demean a film simply because of personal bias. Simply put, this film is a waste of celluloid and serves no purpose whatsoever.

Blu-ray Presentation



The remake of The Omen was actually one of the first Blu-ray discs to be released by 20th Century Fox, back in November 2006. As such, it mirrors most of its counterparts from that period in that it features an MPEG-2 encode on a single layer BD-25 disc. The transfer, in the film's original aspect ratio of 1.85:1, it pretty good for the most part, with a good if not stunning level of detail and no obvious problems with the deliberately muted colour palette. Unfortunately, the aged codec and the low bit rate afforded by the single layer disc, combined with the moderate amount of grain that is present throughout, means that minor but noticeable artefacting is a fairly common occurrence. On the plus side, I can see no sign of filtering or artificial grain reduction, meaning that, artefacts aside, the overall look is pleasingly film-like. Don't be put off by the blurry-looking 20th Century Fox logo at the start - immediately afterwards, the quality improves considerably.

This decent transfer is backed up by a solid lossless DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 track, which improves on the Dolby Digital and DTS affairs on its DVD counterpart in terms of overall clarity or depth without seeming like a revelation. Clarity is excellent, bass is punchy and there is some nice use of ambient sound effects. During the audio commentary, director John Moore recommends that those with decent audio equipment turn up the volume to truly appreciate the excellent work that went into the sound design - and I would have to agree, since it's the only aspect of the film that impresses on any level.

Subtitles consist of English and Spanish tracks for the film itself but not the extras.

Extras



Most but not all of the bonus materials have been ported over from the standard definition DVD release of the film:

  • Audio commentary - It's somewhat surprising that Fox have shelled out on a decent array of extras for this film - more than it either deserves or requires, given that there is very little that can be said about it beyond the most perfunctory remarks. This is especially true of the commentary, featuring director John Moore, producer Glen Williamson and editor Dan Zimmerman, which is dry and uninteresting, as the three men make generic remarks about how much fun they had making the film (you'd think they'd be more enthusiastic, then - Moore especially sounds utterly bored by the whole affair) and how great everyone who worked on it was. Most damagingly, they say virtually nothing about the original or in what way they feel that their take on it is worthwhile, beyond Moore's rather bizarre assertion that the Vatican framing device somehow justifies the whole thing.

  • Abbey Road sessions - Composer Marco Beltrami also shows up for this 10-minute piece, introducing some key themes and explaining the instruments and theories behind them. It's nothing remarkable, but presumably of interest to those who are musically inclined.

  • Revelation 666 - A 22-minute documentary on the subject of the number 666, and what (if anything) it actually means. A number of people are interviewed, from film scholars to goth posers to religious lunatics, all of whom have their own take on it, which range from outlandish conspiracy theories to far-fetched interpretations of ancient scriptures. The scariest part, essentially, is less the subject matter itself but rather how seriously they all take their own crackpot conjectures.

  • Extended scenes - Two scenes are also provided, both slightly gorier versions of the impaling and beheading sequences.

Missing in action are the "Omenisms" documentary, alternate ending and three trailers for the film that accompanied it on the DVD. This was par for the course for Fox in the early days of their HD releases.

Blu-ray Exclusive Extras



  • The Devil's Footnotes - Nothing like as interesting as the title suggests, this is in fact a standard pop-up trivia track, providing the viewer, at fairly regular intervals, with information that ranges from mildly interesting to completely and utterly yawn-worthy. While I did learn some things I didn't previously know (for example, did you know that fear of the number 666 is known as "hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia"?), I can't imagine anyone having the patience to sit through the entire film for a second time just to soak up all this useless information.

Overall - The Omen Collection



Well, here we are once again, concluding yet another review of yet another box set of films in the Omen franchise. (I think it's safe to call it a "franchise" rather than a series now, given that, with the 2006 remake, any remaining hints of artistic merit have been well and truly exterminated.) The big question, I suppose, is whether or not this four-disc Blu-ray collection is worth it. My answer, as usual, is going to have to be "no": the original 1976 film is available separately for considerably less money than the four-movie set, and it's really the only one worth bothering with, so my advice would be to save your cash and just pick up the first one.

That said, for those who are determined to be subjected to the full Omen experience (or as full as possible without the hilariously awful 1991 TV movie), this box set constitutes an admittedly expensive but nonetheless satisfying package. The first film has received by far the most lavish treatment, and rightly so, but the audio-visual quality of the subsequent entries in the series is nothing to be sniffed at either. The Omen Collection is not exactly The Godfather Collection of horror movie franchises in high definition, but in terms of image quality and the actual running time of the bonus content, it's comparable. All told, Fox have provided a far more generous package here than anyone had any reason to expect, and, whatever you might think of the films, at least they are to be commended for not doing this project on the cheap.

Film
2 out of 10
Video
8 out of 10
Audio
9 out of 10
Extras
4 out of 10
Overall

3

out of 10

Last updated: 18/04/2018 21:44:35

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