Fear is usually simple. A guy in a mask. A creature in the dark. But John Carpenter’s Prince of Darkness isn't interested in being simple. It wants to tell you that God is actually a localized field of subatomic particles and that the Devil is a swirl of green liquid in a glass jar.
It’s weird. Honestly, it’s probably the weirdest thing Carpenter ever shot.
Released in 1987 as the second entry in his "Apocalypse Trilogy"—sandwiched between The Thing and In the Mouth of Madness—the film feels like a fever dream. It’s a low-budget siege movie that trades the high-tech sheen of the 80s for a gritty, claustrophobic basement in Los Angeles. If you haven’t seen it lately, you've forgotten how much it gets under your skin. It doesn't just want to scare you; it wants to convince you that your entire understanding of the universe is a lie.
The Science of Evil in Prince of Darkness
Most horror movies treat religion and science like oil and water. They don't mix. You either have a priest with a cross or a scientist with a microscope. Carpenter, working under the pseudonym Martin Quatermass, decided to smash them together.
The plot is basically this: A dying priest leaves a secret to a younger priest (played by a very intense Donald Pleasence). That secret is a massive cylinder of glowing green goo hidden in the basement of an abandoned church. This isn't just sludge. It’s the physical manifestation of the "Anti-God."
Pleasence brings in a team of physics students led by Professor Birack (Victor Wong). This is where the movie gets dense. They start talking about differential equations. They talk about Schrödinger's cat. They argue about the idea that what we perceive as "reality" is just a thin veil over a chaotic, sentient darkness. It’s heavy stuff for a slasher-era flick.
🔗 Read more: How the Hymn I Saw the Light Almost Didn't Happen and Why It Still Hits Different
The brilliance of Prince of Darkness lies in how it frames evil as a biological and mathematical certainty. The liquid isn't "magic." It’s sentient matter. When it sprays into a student’s mouth, it’s not a possession in the Exorcist sense; it’s a cellular takeover. It’s an infection of the soul via fluid dynamics.
Why the "Transmissions" Still Freak People Out
Ask anyone what they remember about this movie. They won't say the kills. They’ll say the dreams.
Throughout the film, characters experience a recurring "dream" that looks like grainy, distorted video footage. A dark figure emerges from the church entrance while a distorted voice narrates. "This is not a dream," the voice says. "We are transmitting from the year 1999."
It’s a tachyon transmission. Basically, a message sent back in time to warn the past.
There is something deeply primal about that footage. It looks like a snuff film from the future. It’s lo-fi, shaky, and feels "wrong" in a way that modern CGI can never replicate. It taps into a specific type of dread—the idea that the end of the world has already happened, and we’re just watching the slow-motion car crash leading up to it.
🔗 Read more: Cast of Red Tails Movie: Why This All-Star Lineup Still Matters
Carpenter used a video synthesizer to get that specific flickering look. It’s an aesthetic choice that bridges the gap between 80s technology and cosmic horror. You're not watching a movie; you're eavesdropping on a doomed timeline.
A Masterclass in the "Slow Burn" Siege
People complain that the first half of Prince of Darkness is slow. They’re wrong.
The first hour is about the atmosphere. It’s about the homeless people outside (led by a silent, terrifying Alice Cooper) slowly surrounding the building. It’s about the way the light hits the dusty rafters of the church. Carpenter is a master of using a single location to create a sense of mounting pressure.
Once the "possession" starts, the movie pivots into a body-horror nightmare. One character, Kelly, becomes the vessel for the Prince. Her skin starts to slough off. Her face turns into a bruised, weeping mess. It’s some of the most effective practical effects work of the era, handled by Garry Elmendorf.
Unlike The Thing, which is about paranoia and "who is who," this movie is about the inevitability of the tide. The liquid is rising. The windows are blocked. The math says you’re going to lose.
The Ending That Nobody Can Agree On
We have to talk about Brian and Catherine.
The climax involves a mirror—a literal portal to the "Anti-Matter" universe. To stop the Anti-God from fully crossing over, Catherine tackles the possessed Kelly through the glass. The mirror breaks. Catherine is trapped on the other side.
It’s a gut-punch.
But the final shot is what sticks. Brian, the survivor, wakes up from a dream. He walks to his mirror. He reaches out to touch the glass, wondering if he can find her, or if the thing on the other side is looking back. The screen goes black right before his finger hits the surface.
Is it a bleak ending? Absolutely.
Carpenter has always been a nihilist at heart. He doesn't believe in easy wins. In his world, humanity is usually just a temporary glitch in a very dark universe. The ending of Prince of Darkness suggests that the transmission from 1999 might not have been a warning to stop the apocalypse—it might have been a recording of the moment it became certain.
Why It Holds Up Today
We live in an era of "elevated horror," but Carpenter was doing it decades ago without the pretension. He didn't need a massive budget. He used a church, some green water, and a bunch of talented character actors.
The film works because it respects the audience's intelligence. It assumes you can follow a conversation about theoretical physics while also being scared of a guy getting stabbed with a bicycle frame. It’s a movie that feels like it was made by someone who stayed up too late reading physics textbooks and watching old Hammer Horror films.
If you’re looking to revisit this classic, pay attention to the score. Carpenter and Alan Howarth created a pulsating, synth-heavy soundtrack that acts like a heartbeat for the movie. It never stops. It just builds and builds until the tension is unbearable.
Essential Viewing Tips for Modern Audiences
To get the most out of a rewatch, keep these things in mind:
✨ Don't miss: Why Save Best for Last Still Hits Different Decades Later
- Watch the 4K restoration: The shadows in this movie are vital. In older, muddy transfers, you lose the "presence" in the corners of the room.
- Turn up the bass: The "tachyonic" voice is layered with low-frequency sounds designed to make you feel physically uneasy.
- Research the Quatermass influence: Carpenter named his writer persona after Nigel Kneale’s famous scientist. The film is a direct spiritual successor to Quatermass and the Pit.
- Watch the homeless extras: They aren't just standing there. They are reacting to the "signal" from the church. Their movements are synchronized in a way that’s deeply unsettling if you look closely.
Prince of Darkness isn't just a movie about a ghost in a bottle. It’s a film about the terrifying possibility that our reality is just a mask for something much older, much larger, and much more indifferent to our survival. It’s John Carpenter at his most philosophical and his most mean-spirited. That’s why we love it.
To truly appreciate the depth of this film, watch it back-to-back with The Thing. You'll see how Carpenter shifted his focus from the biological horror of the individual to the mathematical horror of the entire cosmos. It’s a bleak journey, but for any true fan of the genre, it’s a mandatory one.
Next Steps for the Horror Enthusiast:
Take a look at the "Apocalypse Trilogy" in order: The Thing (1982), Prince of Darkness (1987), and In the Mouth of Madness (1994). Each film explores the end of the world through a different lens—biological, physical, and finally, psychological. Pay close attention to the recurring theme of "the loss of self" across all three movies to see how Carpenter's worldview evolved over a decade of filmmaking.