The Omen

I skipped the 2006 version of The Omen in the theater and avoided it on DVD for a long while for a couple of reasons.

First, classic films like The Omen should never be re-made. Ever!

You can debate me all you want about how some stories can be better told today with modern movie-making technology, and how a new generation of movie-goers will be exposed to a classic movie with the remake.

Go ahead, debate me. You'll be wrong! I see your lips movin', baby, but I don't hear no noise.

(That line never works when I argue with my wife, either. I gotta get a new line.)

The most significant reason I avoided The Omen, though, is a little more complicated, and a whole lot more personal. I was eleven years old when the Gregory Peck original was released, and although I didn't see the movie at that early age, I saw enough from trailers, movie reviews and the like to know what it was about.

And is scared me.


Not the movie itself; nope, what scared me was the pervasive fear I developed that The Anti-Christ may be, ...Well, me.

I see your lips movin', baby, but I don't hear no noise.



It's true. Between the ages of twelve and fifteen I worried I was The Anti-Christ. My family was devoutly religious, and the church we attended was excessively fundamental. I heard lots of sermons on The Beast, most of which centered on (1) he was probably a young child at that time, simply awaiting adulthood to take over the world, and (2) he would be grow into an adult who would be a false prophet, the kind who typically spread false teachings, and create skepticism.

Well, I was a kid transitioning into adulthood, and I was highly skeptical. Of everything, but particularly religion. At that age I was beginning to question every belief I held regarding Christianity, while feeling tremendous guilt and anxiety over doubting something that was so much a part of my culture, and my life. I didn't know anyone who doubted the existence of God. I presumed I was the only one who struggled with disbelief.

And if I was the only one... I'm not so good at math, but the numbers were starting to add up.

Although the sermons were hot and furious, I didn't get the outrage. I recall thinking the "One World Order" idea and a cashless society I heard preached so loudly against in church actually sounded like a good idea. Efficient. A good social construct. I'd be first in line to sign up, I thought.

Unless, of course, I grow up to be the demon-spawn who invents them.

I didn't want to be The Anti-Christ. The idea of spending an eternity in Hell was disturbing--even when I was doubting it's existence--but mostly my concern was because The Anti-Christ can't win.


I mean, if he knows how Armageddon will turn out from biblical prophesy, he has to know he loses. Why go through the hassle, then? Put your efforts into something more productive, my dear beast-boy.

Like politics.

As it turns out I didn't have any of the supernatural powers that I thought The Anti-Christ should have as part of his other-worldly heritage. I tried, but couldn't levitate objects, change destiny simply by willing it or harm my elementary school enemies with my demonic mojo. (I can, I believe, change the pattern of traffic lights via telepathy, but my wife suggests it's not a good idea to talk publicly about that.)

Most importantly, I don't have a 666 birthmark, anywhere. I looked, all over. A lot. Around the age of fifteen I came to the conclusion that if there is an Anti-Christ, it can't be me. I graduated through my I-may-be-The-Beast phase with minimal emotional or psychological trauma.

Oh yeah, The Omen?

Classic movies should never me re-made. Ever!