A lady archaeologist finds the key to an ancient tomb where the Antichrist has been imprisoned by the Knights Templar since the days of Christ.
It’s 1999 now, and time for the Antichrist’s minion to raise some hell to get his master the Devil set free.
In retrospect, I think the Antichrist did in fact escape in 2000. I’m thinking about the gay beast, which has made astronomical inroads in the last 11 years — especially since the Antichrist himself was elected, Barack Hussein Obama.
The American Indian archaeologist, played by Canadian actress Francoise Robertson, steals the show. She brings cleverness, frailty, insight, drive, and inspiration to every scene she’s in. Her repertoire of vocal and facial expressions is without equal.
Naturally, Hollywood never let her have another role in any film. She is too complete a woman, not busty enough, and — the worse of all sins — willing and able to outshine any male lead. It didn’t help that her first lead role was in a story reinforcing Christian traditions, a career killer if there ever was one in Tinseltown.
Dolph Lundgren looks like a stone statue next to this classy dame. He’s dumb, thick, dull, stupid, and unresponsive. (And this S.O.B. has a masters degree in chemical engineering.) He’s no action star but a clump of gooey clay with muscles, a Neanderthal with a fat bank account.
This film hits the viewer just where Lundgren’s spiked club hits all his victims, at the base of the skull, in so doing releasing the slithering reptile in all of us. It’s all that much more miraculous that Ms. Robertson is able to shine as bright as she does, in such a dark, oppressing cave.
I think I’ll unplug my electronic rock tonight and just beat my head against the wall.
It’ll be a lot more entertaining than Dolph Lundgren in this flick.
