Remember the uproar there was regarding Jared Leto’s Italian accent in House of Gucci? Prepare to have a field day with whatever Russell Crowe is attempting in The Pope’s Exorcist.
And not only is it the vocal inflection of good ole’ Rusty, but his whole general demeanour throughout Julius Avery’s horror romp, where he swigs liquor from a tiny flask on his person, asks for coffee in the most in-opportune of times, and speeds around on a tiny moped that looks practically dwarfed in comparison to Crowe’s considerable frame. He’s embraced his inner (and outer) Marlon Brando, and the film is all the better for it.
Now, that’s not to say The Pope’s Exorcist is any good. Quite the opposite in fact. Avery’s “inspired by true events” nonsense is never remotely scary, and when it aims for visual terror it’s ultimately an embarrassment of poor CGI and a manic mentality it hasn’t quite earned.
Its climax is amusing in that so-bad-it’s-good type of way, but that’s not really the temperament I assume Avery was hoping for in his detail of Father Gabriele Amorth (Crowe), Chief Exorcist of the Vatican, whose actual files were apparently the inspiration behind the film. The exorcism taking place surrounds that of young Henry (Peter DeSouza-Feighony), who has moved with his mother, Julia (Alex Essoe, trying her hardest through trite dialogue), and older sister, Amy (Laurel Marsden, suffering as a result of an unlikeable, one-note character), from the US to Italy off the back of their father’s passing.
He’s left them a dilapidated church – as one does – and they hope to fix it up, sell it off, and live off the profits. It’s perfect horror movie fodder to have a haunted dwelling of sorts encapsulate unsuspecting victims to toy with, and an early sequence where two construction workers are savagely burned quite inexplicably suggests the four-person-strong penned script (a collaboration between Michael Petroni, Evan Spiliotopoulos, R. Dean McCreary and Chester Hastings) may be gearing up to have some nasty fun with this poor family, but, alas, no such luck as Henry, who we learn hasn’t spoken since his father’s death, is near-immediately possessed (not that that isn’t nasty in itself) and Father Gabriele is quickly called in to do his duty.
Though the film commits to the whole possession aesthetic we have become accustomed to with these types of films, The Pope’s Exorcist sadly is unable to improve on the imagery on hand, and Henry sprouting “demonic” phrases in an adopted cockney accent hardly evokes terror from us as an audience; when he accuses Gabriele’s cohort, Father Esquibel (Daniel Zovatto), of being a “panty sniffer” on accord of his past indiscretions with a young girl, it gives more cheek than chilling.
On that note, the film quite boldly comments on sexual abuse within the Church system, but it does so in a manner that’s jumbled within the demonic-possession narrative, and, quite insultingly, suggests any ill-acts involving non-consensual activity is the work of a more evil power. It’s a heavy-hand for such a throwaway film, but its throwaway mentality only leans further into the unfocused personality the film possesses.
The Pope’s Exorcist is not remotely scary, and it doesn’t even have the decency to embrace a certain gore quota either; and the exploding bodies that feature in the aforementioned ending don’t count as it’s all a little too late by that point. Teetering with a campy edge that it never quite commits to, Crowe’s wholehearted embrace of the “do anything” sector of his career is the one saving grace of the film; and even then you shouldn’t have to pay just to giggle at him riding a moped – that’s what Google Images is for.
TWO STARS (OUT OF FIVE)
The Pope’s Exorcist is now screening in Australian theatres. It will be released in the United States on April 14th, 2023.
