In which a priest has read too many Dan Brown pulps, and, uh...hijinks ensue. I guess. This film boasts a really interesting premise - Father Ángel proclaims to know the date of the Apocalypse through the use of numerology, and just in the nick of time. He proceeds to commit as many sins as possible in the hopes that he’ll be able to sell his soul to the devil and thus be present at the birth of the Antichrist, whom he plans to kill. To help him in this quest, he enlists a dimwitted metal record shop owner and an unwilling charlatan TV psychic. The Day of the Beast shoots for a level of manic energy that Peter Jackson was operating on in the early 90s, but doesn’t boast a script near smart or clever enough. The promising first act devolves into our characters running around bashing each other with Looney Tunes aplomb and some of the worst CGI on record. It’s not a complete misfire – it’s acted engagingly enough, has a few nice gags, and outside of the CGI is competently produced. It’s neither funny or scary, though. This is one toothless man-goat.
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