I’ve been had. I settled into my seat at the Star Gratiot theater for what I thought was a suspense flick based on the infamous Bible Code.
Dr. Gillen Lane (Casper Van Dein) is a motivational speaker haunted by mystical vision — read: Tony Robbins with a sharper jaw line and eyes that could infiltrate the defenses of any soap diva. Lane moves out of his atheistic New Age mythology mumbo-jumbo and finds himself inexplicably drawn toward the mysteries of biblical prophecy.
Stone Alexander (Michael York) is a powerful, charismatic media mogul who has acquired the Bible Code "program," the fate of mankind on CD-ROM. Young Dr. Lane volleys some very bad farewell dialogue with his wholesome-looking, neglected wife, then it’s full steam ahead with Operation Revelation, as Lane becomes Alexander’s temporary flunky.
That is, until Lane stumbles on a secret underground computer lab — illuminated at night by burning lanterns — on Alexander’s estate, where the prophecies which foretell the millennial fate of the earth are decoded by applying a sophisticated formula to the text of the Torah.
Besides the bad dialogue and acting that plagues this movie, there is something strange going on. Lane meets bombshell talk show host Cassandra Barris (Catherine Oxenberg) and never has sex with her. Even though the world is ending, the Antichrist has come, and people are being killed and raised from the dead, there isn’t a "holy shit" in the house. Hmmm. How to decode this mystery?
When Lane is surrounded by transparent neon special effects demons while being detained in the reigning Antichrist Alexander’s dungeon, he bows a knee and says the magic words that tell us all we need to know, "Jesus, save me." The demons flee; peace comes over his model face and Lane is saved.
Bible school buffs will follow along the whole way as The Omega Code hits all the high points from the books of Daniel and Revelation, which predict the rise and fall of "the Beast," and the death and resurrection of two prophets during the "end times." It’s enough to evoke fear in any believer and disgust in anyone who buys a ticket (like I did) expecting to see a real flick. Distributed by TBN (the Trinity Broadcasting Network, a Christian media giant), Omega hits a low point in moviemaking, which we on the real planet Earth call "propaganda."
E-mail comments to firstname.lastname@example.org.