You’d be forgiven an eye-roll or two on hearing of yet another ‘exorcisty’ film. Five follow-ups to The Exorcist, William Friedkin’s unholy grail of a classic from 1973, and countless unrelated exorcism-titled movies have nearly all been diabolically disappointing.
If that eye-roll morphed into a full-on, Regan-esque head spin on learning Russell Crowe is the star of another one – The Exorcism – that would be understandable too. An Oscar-winning colossus following 2000’s Gladiator, Crowe’s box office seems to have fallen off a cliff – having him on a poster now feels like a guarantor of mediocrity (see: 2014’s Noah, 2020’s Unhinged, 2022’s Poker Face).
However, cast out those demons, because The Exorcism is a juicy, spiky plunge into B-movie hell and Crowe (who seems to be on a devilish roll after last year’s The Pope’s Exorcist) is on dementedly entertaining form.
We open with a priest babbling Latin mass outside a house that looks remarkably like the one in The Exorcist. As he enters, it’s clear he’s an actor running through lines; and as he exits his life on the upper floor of this film set, it should be obvious to horror nerds that this is a take on the legend of “The Exorcist Curse” (there were fires and injuries on the set of the original film, and nine apparently connected deaths, including that of actress Linda Blair’s pet mouse).
Enter Crowe’s Anthony Miller, a washed-out actor recovering from drug and alcohol problems (not to mention severe guilt over the death of his wife and possibly some childhood trauma as an altar boy) to take over the role of the priest. And his once-estranged teenage daughter Lee (Ryan Simpkins) is entirely justified in rolling her eyes when Anthony tells her it’s an Exorcist remake. What could possibly go wrong?
Of course, “wrong” ain’t the half of it, as Anthony begins a predictable on-set spiral into madness. However, director Joshua John Miller (son of Jason Miller, who played Father Karras in The Exorcist, FYI) lifts this unsurprising meltdown with satisfyingly twitchy, darkly flickering flourishes of menace. Too many Millers? That’s almost certainly an intentional extra meta-dimension. JJ Miller also co-wrote the pleasingly nasty, pulpy screenplay.
Exasperated by his disconnected acting, the fictional director (Adam Goldberg, who starred with Crowe in A Beautiful Mind) demands Anthony channel “his truth”; he is literally “being eaten alive by guilt” and the camera’s gotta see it.
Boy, does Crowe show us that maniacal insanity. A quick crick of the neck and a snapping, sideways smirk of pure evil; Crowe’s still got cinematic chutzpah. The way he spits out the antidepressants Lee tries to feed him is verging on stealth genius.
Suggestion for any film-makers out there: because of Crowe’s slump in star-power, you might be able to secure this still top-notch performer for a snip of his Gladiator fee right now.
Light on gore, but heavy on grim mood (a with a couple of highly effective jump-scares), this is only let down as it falters into an overly generic ending.
Of course, being horror and especially Exorcist-themed, legions of fanatical detractors will be eager to tear it to shreds. It will most likely sink without a trace like the hundreds of other films of its ilk, even though it’s one of the better ones.
You really could do a lot worse on a schlocky Saturday night than go give yourself a dose of the satanic willies.
