Many actors, directors, writers, and producers in Hollywood come from
middle-class, middle-American backgrounds, rife with traditional values
from which these would-be artists have fled. Perhaps that's why, when it
comes to the word "religious," Hollywood is most comfortable if it's
followed by the word "fanatic." The cinema of America's West Coast likes
religion only when it provides uplifting, non-denominational angels or
apocalyptic, superhuman devils.
Hence End of Days, a dreary, exploitative action film in which
it's devil time again. The plot has The Dark One entering the body of a
callow Wall Street suit (Gabriel Byrne) to seek out a 20-year-old virgin
named, of course, Christine (Robin Tunney) who has been predestined to bear
the devil a son and bring about a new satanic era. The fiendish plot is
found out when a tongueless priest--named, improbably, Thomas
Aquinas--spills the beans to a bitter ex-cop turned security expert named,
even more improbably, Jericho Cane. Arnold Schwarzenegger plays Jericho,
who takes it upon himself to protect Christine both from The Man and from a
cadre of killer priests who would perpetrate the small evil of murdering
the girl to stop the greater evil of "the end of the world as we know
it."
Both Jericho and the kindly Father Kovak (Rod Steiger) take exception to
the idea of killing Christine, yet Jericho feels no compunction about
mowing down dozens of Satan worshipers to protect her. And that's far from
the only logic lapse in End of Days. To cash in on Y2K hysteria,
screenwriter Andrew Marlowe indulges several misapprehensions about the
meaning and relevance of the word "millennium."
Biblically--where this film is supposed to draw its mythology--the
millennium is the 1,000 years on Earth after Jesus Christ returns.
Popularly, the millennium is any period of 1,000 years that historians
choose to measure, though the common measurement begins by setting Jesus'
birth at Dec. 25, Year 1 A.D., and counting forward by thousands--which
means that the first millennium ended at the end of the year 1000 A.D., and
the second will conclude at the end of next year. (Sorry, Prince fans.)
End of Days intentionally muddles things by referring to the
number of the beast, 666, and saying that upside-down and backwards the
number refers to the year 1999. (Why not 999?) The folklorists in the film
also claim that the devil has only a one-hour window before the end of 1999
to impregnate Christine. When Jericho rightly asks if the timetable is on
Eastern Standard Time, Father Kovak angrily snaps that the time doesn't
matter, then goes on to explain exactly why it does.
So which is it? Couldn't the time scheme just be random, to save the
film from millennial purist nitpickers? For that matter, given the
remarkable power displayed by Satan in End of Days, why is he bound
by any rules, and why is it so hard for him to dispose of that meddling
Jericho? These qualms would be excused if End of Days were remotely
entertaining. But director Peter Hyams does nothing to brighten up or
energize Marlowe's dull, confusing script. Even the "comic relief" provided
by Kevin Pollak as Jericho's partner is as grating and unfunny as a Paul
Reiser AT&T commercial.
For some reason, religious groups have chosen to picket Kevin Smith's
Dogma--a film with a childlike (and childish) view of
Christianity--and yet have ignored this film, which shows Arnold
Schwarzenegger being literally crucified. Call it the cheap-thrills factor.
In the '30s, audiences flocked to sexually charged biblical epics as much
for the titillation as for the sermon. In today's post-Columbine culture,
perhaps violence has replaced sex as the new taboo, to be couched in
"morally relevant" dramas. The message that End of Days is supposed
to carry is that faith is more powerful than guns. But it's unlikely the
message will be heard over all the automatic weapons fire.
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