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Yahoo
a day ago
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Who Let Al Pacino Star in This Terrible Exorcism Movie?
The Ritual claims to be 'based on a true story' about the most documented and publicized exorcism in American history. That the movies are still trying to pass off demonic possession as plausibly realistic rather than horror-movie make-believe has grown wearisome, although it's not improbability that dooms this Al Pacino-headlined genre throwaway—in theaters June 6—but a crushing lack of originality and a form that makes its clichés even harder to swallow. Confronted with the unholy, Dan Stevens' priest may exclaim that this is a 'profoundly new and strange situation for all of us,' yet only the youngest and least horror-experienced moviegoers will feel likewise. In 1928 Earling, Iowa, Father Joseph Steiger (Stevens) acknowledges to his flock that he's continuing to grieve the recent death of his brother, thereby foreshadowing the preordained moment when an underworld imp mocks him about this tragedy. When he playfully steals a cracker from a tray carried by Sister Rose (Ashley Greene), The Ritual establishes their quasi-romantic feelings for each other and, in doing so, suggests that perhaps this man of the cloth's faith isn't rock solid. His belief is soon put to the test when he's told by Bishop Edwards (Patrick Fabian) that his church will be the site of the forthcoming exorcism of Emma Schmidt (Abigail Cowen), a young woman who's undergoing this ceremonial purging after having exhausted all other Western medical options. Handling the exorcism is Father Theophilus Riesinger (Pacino), who arrives in Iowa wearing a friar's robe that's cinched with a thick rope, and with a thick German accent that Pacino milks for all its worth. Theophilus is convinced that Emma is at the mercy of one of Satan's minions, and upon meeting with Joseph and Patricia Heaton's Mother Superior, he explains that they must all stay united in the face of the 'enemy' and its 'ancient' methods. Director David Midell's script wastes no time getting down to business, and as it turns out, the ritual he intends to perform is a multi-evening affair. Night one goes slowly, with Theophilus merely reading from his Bible while two attending nuns chime in when necessary and Joseph takes notes—a process that concludes with a sprinkling of holy water that knocks Emma out. Midell employs shaky handheld cinematography marked by sudden herky-jerky zooms throughout The Ritual, giving the material an aesthetic instability that fails to generate a sense of verité authenticity or dreadful unease. Shot in dark, muted hues, the film comes up with not a single enticing camera movement or image, and its tale proves similarly uninspired. In no time flat, Joseph starts voicing doubts about Theophilus's approach, whining repeatedly about his desire to have Emma seen by a professional doctor because her symptoms—such as a terrible seizure that causes her to foam at the mouth—resemble those associated with epilepsy. Theophilus pooh-poohs such concerns, arguing that Joseph's reservations are the tricks the Devil plays on the devout to weaken them in their divine battle. The Ritual embraces the narrative formula pioneered by The Exorcist and duplicated by legions of inferior wannabes, with Joseph plagued by a spiritual crisis that he's destined to overcome during a finale in which triumph is achieved by praying really hard. Before that inevitability, however, the film partakes in a cornucopia of familiar sights. Initially treated without restraints (because Joseph thinks them cruel), Emma lifts Sister Rose up by the hair, pulling out a giant clump in the process. Once tied down, she thrashes about, roars, and curses in English, Latin and Spanish. She additionally pukes bloody goo into a bucket, develops horrible sores all over her body, and attacks her Christian compatriots by thrusting her bed at them—all maneuvers that are so de rigueur it hurts, and are staged with not a shred of suspenseful surprise. Midell's tactics are almost as old as his diabolical baddie, and they include Jason Lazarus and Joseph Trapanese's shrieky score, copious loud noises to accompany wan jolts, and indecipherable whispering that everyone hears late at night in their rooms or in empty church hallways. Doors mysteriously creak open, Emma's body crackles as it contorts, and Stevens looks harried as a small-town priest who finds himself 'haunted' by Emma and the not-very-nice things she has to say about him and both Rose and Theophilus—not to mention he's freaked out by a spot on his arm that Emma licks and, later, appears to monstrously bubble. Stevens' character overreacts to everything that takes place over the course of the multiple rituals. Fortunately, he has Theophilus to calm him down with stories about his flight from evil in Europe and his personal connection to Emma, whom he didn't save years earlier when he was a rookie exorcist. The sole honest (and therefore interesting) moment in The Ritual features Joseph asking Theophilus why, out of all the people in the world, Emma was chosen to be preyed upon by Beelzebub's minions. Alas, Pacino's protagonist proffers an answer of such vague gibberish—apparently, she's a rare human with 'profound sensitivity' that leaves her ideally susceptible to the 'otherworldly'—that he inadvertently reveals the endeavor's silliness. For five decades and counting, demonic possession has been one of horror's favorite subjects. However, aside from Friedkin's 1973 classic, it's rarely effective if the films in question ask us to buy it as a legitimate phenomenon; better to embrace the florid, fanciful outrageousness of the conceit instead of pretending, as Midell does, that this is super-serious business. By hewing to the (supposed) historical record, The Ritual handcuffs itself, forced to trade in occurrences that are both hackneyed and tepid. The proceedings culminate with a basement showdown that peaks with the sight of Emma hovering ever-so-slightly off the ground—a deflating capper to a film that hasn't a clue how to scare. As a sage exorcist who's desperate for redemption, Pacino chews the scenery with as much gusto as possible, yet the material is so inept that it doesn't even provide him with corny dialogue or insane incidents that might let him really go over-the-top. His Theophilus views himself as Heaven's conduit in an eternal war against Hell, but this misfire strands its legendary star in bland B-movie purgatory.
CBC
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- CBC
The Ritual is dreary, dumb and dangerous. And misogynistic. Also, it sucks
Two separate times in David Middel's horror film The Ritual, title cards pop up declaring that you are watching the most well-documented case of demonic possession in history. A final message then asserts that "debate persists" over whether this instance — the 1928 exorcism of Emma Schmidt — was a case of medical or spiritual malady. Having made it to the end of this offensive mess, I can only assume that "debate" is a reference to the fact that The Ritual believes you are an evil imbecile if you disagree with the practice of exorcism — a practice that has led to literal torture deaths across the world. Middel also seems to suggest that spirits and demons are not only real, but they only continue to exist because egghead authorities don't believe hard enough — even in the face of extraordinary and frightening evidence that you should be calling 911 for the bleeding, wailing, vomiting young woman instead of dousing her with holy water. This is not a knock against religiosity, or even Christianity itself; The Ritual 's central didactic instruction isn't to believe in a higher power. Instead, it's an absurdly specific, fearfully atavistic and almost despairingly cruel directive not to listen to the voice of reason in the face of fatal consequences. WATCH | The Ritual trailer: It's all strung around the neck of Joseph Steiger (Dan Stevens), a faltering parish priest in the small town of Earling, Iowa. He's already struggling with conflicting responsibility and powerless leadership when a bishop bluntly informs him his church will soon be the site of an exorcism. It's Emma, you see: she's been exhibiting all the telltale symptoms of mental illness. Ones that through time immemorial have led to countless women's ostracization, forced hospitalization and lobotomies — all of which, for example, were perpetrated against little-known Kennedy sister Rosemary when she didn't act presidential enough for the presidential family. Throughout history, such practices have forged a horrifying pattern of abhorrent, confused and counterproductive treatments to silence, control and kill women. Just Google where the word "hysteria" comes from (also, chillingly, its diagnosis). Instead of scientific tortures or burning at the stake, the men in Emma's life have opted for a more traditional method. Looking for all the world like a Jeremiah Johnson Jesuit, Father Theophilus Riesinger (Al Pacino) has apparently chosen to give up his day job hanging out beneath bridges to demand tolls from fairy tale travellers. Now, he'd like to excise the spirits from poor Emma's battered and bruised body. All Steiger needs to do is take notes, and keep the pesky nuns and Reverend Mother (Patricia Heaton) from complaining too much about the very loud atrocities being committed beneath their bedrooms. Dangerous message Unfortunately, that proves a bit too much for that meddling kid (i.e. non-psychopath). Instead, Steiger impudently questions the wisdom of treating a clearly suffering woman with assault instead of, say, literally anything else. Too bad he's an idiot, apparently. Because as Riesinger assures him, his fancy-dancy doctors can't save Emma, can't save him, can't save any of us. This is something far more "ancient" we're dealing with here. Any second-guessing or second opinions will invariably lead to everyone's doom. This is the film's supposed central message, allowed to bloom even as its supposed central character, Steiger, fades inauspiciously into the background, while Riesinger and Schmidt graduate to blood-spattered moralistic caricatures, which are bestowed with all the depth, accuracy and effectiveness of those anti-drug D.A.R.E. comics (which in some cases actually got kids to do drugs more). An equally trite and terrifying tone (in neither case intentional) drips through this sad affair. If it were made with even a modicum of artistry, the film may have run the risk of sparking a roaring prairie fire of collective madness. Something this insidious, made proficiently, could well have become another Michelle Remembers, the Canadian ritual-abuse memoir so incorrect and inflammatory it set off the Satanic panic. Luckily, The Ritual is garbage. But it's noxious, like a tire fire that, if ignored, could spark a human tragedy going on for years or even centuries. But instead of ignorance, let's be better: let's look the Devil right in the face, and deal with what makes The Ritual a steaming pile of belching trash, deserving of its own exclusion zone at least the size of Chernobyl's. It's not the awkward, stilted writing. It's not the Office -style handheld zooms, making this supernatural horror look not unlike a daytime TV sitcom. It's not even Pacino's bizarre accent, seemingly a low-effort homage to his years of terrible and forgettable roles taken to recover from Ponzi scheme-induced financial ruin. No, the truly repugnant point of this movie comes toward the end, where after 90 minutes of dancing around Steiger's milquetoast hemming and hawing, Midell gives up the pretence of evenhandedness. In a scene that hits you over the head so hard it could star in Concussion, The Ritual combines liturgy, a dropped bible and laughable CGI smoke straight out of Lost to make its case. The suggestion is that Steiger was a moron to ever doubt. You can deal with mental illness at home, the film proclaims. All you need is rope, a wrought-iron bed frame and the privacy of a securely locked cellar. It is an asinine lesson, but also a cruel and dangerous one. It comes after in-movie assurances that 1920s medicine was unable to find anything medically or "biologically" wrong, sure — as a smugly (and historically, and scientifically) ignorant pat on the back for our resident exorcists. It also ignores the fact that self-righteous belief in the face of these practices does result in death. It ignores that exorcists killed Anneliese Michel. That exorcists killed Tylee Ryan and Joshua Jaxon (JJ) Vallow. That, according to Vice, exorcists traumatized Canadian Marie McClellan and continue to prod others into demanding the treatment for themselves. Vile morals All in all, it's vile. It's as if someone made a new Bambi, except now his mother dies because she stupidly neglected to do enough whippets. Or a Stand By Me where, instead of relying on the power and fleeting beauty of boyhood friendship, Gordie tells a crying Chris of course the pain will go away. All he has to do is start drinking gin. Or if in Roots, Kunta Kinte gave in before even the first lashing. "Isn't it great being a slave?" he asks this time, smiling dopily at the camera. "I am Toby Obedientman." Cue credits. Happy ending. Did you learn something?
The Guardian
27-05-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
The Ritual review – Al Pacino is priestly mastermind in tale of infamous real-life exorcism
This low-budget, minor-key and – frankly – dreary horror feature offers yet another dramatisation of the 1928 exorcism of a young woman (played here by Abigail Cowen), known by her alias Anna Ecklund and her real name Emma Schmidt. The real-life ritual, which transpired at a nunnery in Iowa, was overseen by elderly German Capuchin priest Father Theophilus Riesinger (Al Pacino) and local cleric Father Joseph Steiger (Dan Stevens) and written up as a pamphlet ('Begone Satan!') that went on to shape the public understanding of exorcisms. All that historical detail is transfused into a weak tea of a script, credited to the film's director David Midell and Enrico Natale. They have generated a work that is a little more interested in background and context instead of sweary pyrotechnics and supernatural fireworks often found in demonic-possession-themed features, the most notably The Exorcist from 1973. But we still get bits of levitation here and there, and moments when poor possessed Emma seems to free-solo the walls of the dank basement room she's locked in. At other points, she inexplicably vomits what look like tobacco leaves and speaks in a variety of exotic tongues. The men of the cloth stoically soldier on while an assortment of nuns stand by looking petrified and aghast. It's perhaps unfair to ask that a film be an entirely different creature than the one the film-makers intended to produce. But in this case, it feels a bit disappointing that the cast and crew worked so hard on the historical roots and verisimilitude stuff, and then insisted on sticking with the idea that Emma was literally possessed, instead of exploring how she might have a mental illness, coupled with childhood trauma. At least Pacino doesn't seem to be taking any of it seriously as he phones in an uncharacteristically low-volume performance whose most distinguishing feature is the Mitteleuropean accent that makes him sound as if he's reprising his performance as Shylock from The Merchant of Venice. Stevens, for his part, just looks as if he's waiting for all this to be over (not unlike the character he plays) so he can go back to working on the sort of kooky, craft-stretching roles he's been having so much fun with lately, such as his mad scientist in Cuckoo or his German-speaking android in I'm Your Man. Even so, his presence somewhat improves this schlock. The Ritual is in UK and Irish cinemas from 30 May
