Prophecy (1979)

John Frankenheimer's Prophecy (1979) is a curious misfire. This potentially decent creature feature sinks under the weight of outsized pretensions, plus one of the dumbest-looking monsters ever.

Fed up with a soul-crushing city job, Dr. Robert Verne (Robert Foxworth) accepts a job with the EPA. Along with his pregnant wife Maggie (Talia Shire), he travels to Maine, where a land dispute between a paper company and local Indians rages. Plant owner Isley (Richard Dysart) blames Indian leader John Hawks (Armand Assante) for the disappearance of several loggers. The Indians blame Kahtadin, a mythical beast protecting their land. Verne discovers that pollution has mutated local wildlife, and that the loggers were killed by a particularly nasty byproduct.

Ken Begg of Jabootu's Bad Movie Dimension pegs Prophecy's primary failing: it's too damn serious. Frankenheimer and writer David Seltzer cram their monster movie with every conceivable issue. Environmentalism is a given, but Indian rights, urban squalor and even abortion get a work-out in the overbaked script. Our hero is introduced treating a rat-bitten black baby in a DC apartment, to give you an idea. Frankenheimer approaches this with utmost solemnity, but when an Indian and lumberjack hold a chainsaw-axe duel, it's hard to buy in.

For all its pretentions, Prophecy doesn't mind employing black-and-white morality. The Natives are Noble Savages out of a Billy Jack movie, and no points for guessing how Frankenheimer portrays the lumbermen. The paper mill's intro is hilarious: we get a two-minute establishing shot while Leonard Rosenman's score blares portentiously on the soundtrack. On the other hand, since Maggie's dumb enough to carry a Kathadin cub around, it's hard to root for the heroes either. 

Unfortunately the horror angle is equally botched. Mercury creating murderous mutants might pass muster in a Roger Corman flick but Seltzer's long, pseudoscientific explanations are laughable. Characters describe the Kathadin as a chimera, but in practice it's a dessicated bear. Frankenheimer can't even stage decent attacks, preferring faux-artistic details (shots of mutilated corpses set to Brahms) to frights. The scariest scene involves a racoon, a good indicator of the film's quality.

Talia Shire is mostly somnolent, though she goes into Connie Corleone screaming mode towards the end. She's nicely balanced by Robert Foxworth, who bites off dialogue like a hippie Charlton Heston. Armand Assante, Victoria Racimo and Richard Dysart come off as well as the script allows. George Cluetsi's deluded elder makes a tragic figure, at least until his ludicrous death scene.

Prophecy is laughably misguided schlock. Everyone involved treats this story of murderous bear jerky like an Ingmar Bergman flick. Viewers are more likely to treat it like crap.