At the turn of the millennium, Hollywood seemed obsessed with the end of days. Films like End of Days (1999), Stigmata (1999), and The Ninth Gate (1999) all dove headfirst into Catholic mysticism, demonic prophecy, and the anxieties of a new century. Into this crowded field came Lost Souls (2000), the directorial debut of renowned cinematographer Janusz Kamiński, armed with Winona Ryder as its headliner and the promise of a brooding religious thriller. What audiences got instead was a film that quickly faded from memory.

The plot follows Maya (Ryder), a young woman convinced that Peter (Ben Chaplin), a respected New York crime journalist, is destined to become the Antichrist. Her mission is to awaken him to this truth before evil consumes him—and the world. On paper, it could have rivaled Stigmata’s heretical thrill ride or End of Days’ action spectacle. Instead, it delivered long stretches of gloom with very little pulse.

Kamiński’s cinematography skills are on full display—sepia shadows, oppressive yellows, and compositions that scream menace. Unfortunately, visuals alone can’t carry a two-hour film. The story crawls forward, recycling the same beats of Ryder’s pleading and Chaplin’s disbelief without ever building toward real urgency. Even the climactic moments arrive with a dull thud rather than the fiery damnation the premise demands.

Performances can’t salvage the material. Ryder plays her part with conviction, but the script gives her little dimension. Chaplin, saddled with a thankless role, never sells his character’s shift from skeptic to potential vessel of evil. Even veteran talents like John Hurt and Philip Baker Hall are wasted in supporting parts that add gravitas but no depth.

In the millennial apocalyptic boom, Stigmata leaned into controversy, End of Days embraced blockbuster excess, and The Ninth Gate played with ambiguity. Lost Souls aimed for a meditative, moody parable—but ended up inert, remembered mostly for its look rather than its impact.

The Prognosis:

Lost Souls stands as a relic of its time: an atmospheric curiosity drowned by the weight of its own seriousness. Where its contemporaries burned brightly (if unevenly), Lost Souls simply flickered out.

• Saul Muerte