THE FINAL CONFLICT —the seemingly bottomless pool of melodic conjuring possessed by composer Jerry Goldsmith honors this third leg of the ‘Omen‘ trio, but the anti-Christ antics he has been enlisted to accent with his scoring are almost totally devoid of the spectacular chills that made the first movie so much wicked fun, lacking also the flamboyant mayhem that decorated the second installment.
As ploddingly directed by Graham Baker, the derivative script and bland performing this time out turns the progress of devil’s advocate ‘Damien Thorne’ into one long, boring, silly dud.
Lot’s of priests and assorted innocents are bumped off (graphically, but not cleverly, for whatever that’s worth) as Damien steers the World to Armageddon, but as none of the hoped-for (?) wholesale catastrophes occur, the 108 minutes end up a cheat.
The $5,000,000 brew drew $20,471,000 from the doomed in 1981. With Sam Neill, (34 in his US debut), Rossano Brazzi, Lisa Harrow, Don Gordon, Mason Adams. The title was amended to the more audience-grabbing Omen III: The Final Conflict. Apparently they were not sufficiently drawn in by speeches like “Oh my Father, Lord of Silence, Supreme God of Desolation, though mankind reviles yet aches to embrace, strengthen my purpose to save the world from a second ordeal of Jesus Christ and his grubby mundane creed. Show man instead the raptures of Thy kingdom. Infuse in him the grandeur of melancholy, the divinity of loneliness, the purity of evil, the paradise of pain.”
Not enough, doubters? Feast on this one: “Nazarene, charlatan, what can you offer humanity? Since the hour you vomited forth from the gaping wound of a woman, you have done nothing but drown man’s soaring desires in a deluge of sanctimonious morality. You’ve inflamed the pubertal mind of youth with your repellent dogma of original sin. And now you absolve in denying them the ultimate joy beyond death by destroying me ? But you will fail, Nazarene, as you have always failed. We were both created in man’s image, but while you were born of an impotent god, I was concieved of a jackal. Born of Satan, the desolate one. Your pain on the cross was but a splinter compared to the agony of my father. Cast out of heaven, the fallen angel, banished, reviled. I will drive deeper the thorns into your rancid carcass, you profaner of vices. Cursed Nazarene. Satan, I will avenge thy torment, by destroying the Christ forever.” Devil needs to chill out.