Bingo is the game, bullshit is the name. Rarely has the screen been smeared with such a blown-up hodgepodge of half-baked conspiracy theories, puritan prudery, and new-age gibberish. The bulk of the story is set at Viciente, a Cristian resort in the Peruvian jungle. Think Tolkien's Rivendell meets Star Trek's Planet Baku, inhabited by dimwitted followers of a not-so-mysterious, but surprisingly narrow-minded cult of love and peace. Thanks to gruesome acting and tacky production design (the rainbow-colored visualization of the mysterious all-healing "energy" is particularly hideous), "The Celestine Prophecies" looks and feels like a discarded 1980s "Twilight Zone" episode. Factual errors regarding church history and nomenclature abound. I can't believe Hector Elizondo agreed to be a part of this. Maybe it was made without his consent, Bowfinger style. May the Lord have mercy on the director, the screenwriter, the author of the novel, and the poor souls who see the movie or read the book.