‘The First Omen’ Lays the Foundation for a Beloved Horror Classic

If sequels are known to become progressively unimpressive and watered-down, Arkasha Stevenson’s The First Omen sets a new standard. The new prequel for the 1976 classic, The Omen, raises the bar for horror franchise films. While not without its obligatory horror movie tropes, The First Omen provides an original and compelling story for the birth of the infamous Damien.

By far the most impressive aspect of the film is its cinematography. Aaron Morton provides the viewer with an immersive and truly horrifying experience, meshing the distinctions between reality and dream sequences. One of the most noticeable differences between this film and the original is that this one feels scarier. While some of this could be attributed to the nearly fifty year span between the production of these two films, the former being created in an era where true horror movies were a new frontier, and the primitive horror techniques of Psycho were the gold standard for fear, much of this scare factor comes from the cinematography. In a horror movie like this, the ultimate goal is to allow the audience to experience the same terror that the protagonist feels, using music and effects that contribute to the overall unsettling feeling or whip pans that simulate hearing a noise and quickly turning one’s head. Morton uses the camera to paint stunning pictures of Margaret’s disturbing hallucinations in an authentic and truly unsettling style. Not only are these shots visually impressive, but they fully immerse viewers in the film, from wide drone shots of 1970s Rome, to POV shots of stained glass shattering overhead and creatures crawling out of the darkness, to quick cuts between disturbing, overstimulating images of bright lights, sterile surroundings, and binding restraints as women are operated on in order to birth the Antichrist.

The film’s greatest flaws are simply the expected horror tropes. There is robotic, unnatural dialogue during the exposition, some predictable elements, and part of the plot relies on unsettling drawings created by a child, which seem to be overused in the genre. Despite the cliches, there are fortunately very few inaccuracies, and those that exist seem to be purposeful. When one of the nuns takes her vows during her veiling ceremony, the service is nearly indistinguishable from a wedding. While parts of this are actually accurate, the filmmakers dramatize this part. She wears a wedding dress and veil, and a gold ring is placed upon her finger. The allusion to marriage is a little too glaring: the white garments and walking down the aisle of a real-life veiling ceremony is metaphorical enough. However, her distinct white clothing serves as a repeating motif throughout the film.  During Roman Catholic veiling ceremonies, wearing white garments similar to baptismal gowns symbolizes the raising of new life. With this in mind, it is understandable that the doctors and nurses in the orphanage wear blinding white. Their entire goal is to bring about one new life: that of the Devil’s child.

Some scenes seem to be shot-for-shot remakes of the original. Reminiscent of the nanny’s suicide by hanging in the original film, one of the nuns drenches herself in gasoline and sets herself ablaze before hanging herself from an upstairs window. Both the nanny and the sister utter the same chilling words before facing their deaths: “It’s all for you.”

Similarly, Margaret’s discovery of the unsettling plot mirrors that of Robert Thorn in the original film. Both are approached by priests, rebuff their advances, and later return to them, begging for advice. Luckily, these nearly identical scenes are not abundant enough to dilute the quality of the film, rather, they may even contribute to the engagement of eagle-eyed fans who recognize the parallels between the two films.

Stevenson’s 2024 film also defines one of the principles that has previously been hazy: motive. The Omen, along with its three subsequent sequels, has an air of ambiguity surrounding the motivations for fostering the birth of the Antichrist. Father Brennan, the concerned priest determined to prevent the birth of the Antichrist, provides an explanation for the priests and nuns who created the plan- and it’s not what you’d think. While the previous films may suggest that these people worship Satan, the priest offers an alternative explanation: church leaders want to create an evil just powerful enough to drive people back to the church. “What,” he asks, “do you do when no one is afraid anymore? You create something to fear.”

Fear plays an integral role in the film, emphasizing timeless debates surrounding religious institutions. There are two churches, Father Brennan tells us. One that wants to serve the Lord and do good and one that wants power and control. One that is afraid of Satan and one whose greatest fear is secularism. In an era of debate over the role of religion in society, The First Omen draws a sharp, if not dramatized, contrast between the good and the bad in the church: those who love others and follow Jesus, and those who seek power and lead with hate. While the antagonists of the film are religious leaders, so are the heroes. Stevenson at least makes the distinction, allowing viewers to see the complexities of religious life, which is more than can be said for many filmmakers.

Despite some obvious cliches and flaws that are characteristic of many horror movies, The First Omen is worth the watch. Not only does it lay the foundation for the 1976 horror classic and its sequels, but it also opens up the possibility of future movies surrounding the new characters featured in this film. This unsettling, thought-provoking, and visually stunning The Omen prequel will keep audiences on the edge of their seats, and despite the suggestion of future films, the resolution is still as satisfying as it is horrifying.