The Exorcism (2024)

Score: 2 / 5

And it could have been truly great.

An aging actor signs on to make a triumphant return to cinema in what appears to be a remake of The Exorcist, entitled The Georgetown Project. His personal assistant on the film is his own daughter, recently suspended from high school, but she quickly becomes wary of his unhinged, troubling behavior. With the recent death of her mother haunting both of them, could the stress of this job have caused him to fall off the wagon? Or could the legendary demons that haunted the original film set have returned to wreak havoc on this new film?

Directed and co-written by Joshua John Miller (whose father was Jason Miller of original Exorcist fame), I was certain this would be a meta-commentary on legacy remakes, on haunted studio sets, and on the personal demons that plague Hollywood dynasties. I even hoped it might offer some insight or modern dramatizations of the scary stories still in circulation about what happened behind the scenes of the original 1973 film. Add to it the somewhat meta-ness of casting as its lead Russell Crowe, who is still fighting his way back into the public eye's good graces -- and who only last year starred in a big-budget exorcism horror title -- and this was already one of the most interesting cultural products of the summer.

But the fabulous premise and real life names and situations are about where the intrigue ends. The terribly titled film opens with an effective but rote death scene, but then focuses tightly on Russell Crowe as Anthony Miller (again, the naming indicates something more than what we ultimately get), an alcoholic, down-and-out actor trying to decide if taking on this new role will work out. He's surprised by the arrival of his daughter Lee (played by Ryan Simpkins), a teen clearly at war with herself and the world around her. She knows her way around the technical aspects of cinema and theatre, and we get the impression that her father's craft has molded her life in more ways than meet the eye. Her troubles are mostly also his, and the two mourn the death of her mother even as she helps him prepare for his comeback role.

Once on set -- featuring an impressive dollhouse-type house with an open fourth wall a la Hereditary or plays like August: Osage County -- they engage with the director (played by Adam Goldberg), whose eagerness to get things going and determination to help Anthony generate his best possible performance leads him to verbally abuse his star. Much as we've heard about major directors of the last century, from Hitchcock to Friedkin himself, his methods are far from ethical, and I was hopeful this would become the central conflict of the film. Not so, though it does remain its most memorable drama.

Instead of leaning into these aspects, the filmmakers make a sharp turn into formulaic, familiar territory, and by the halfway point, the film loses any vestiges of originality or inspiration. Apart from a few fun -- if nonsensical -- shock scares, things go exactly as you can predict dozens of minutes in advance. Things on set go bump in the dark, Anthony zones out and speaks in gravelly demonic tones, they catch him drinking on the job and failing to connect with other actors or his material, he stalks people and (most baffling to me) we see him attack others. His skin mottles and his veins darken, his eyes bulge and his voice drops, and all in all it's the same visual and aural hooey we've seen time and again in the genre. There is never any doubt he's not possessed (by Pazuzu, perhaps?), and by the film's inevitable climactic titular rite -- in the cold set of the child's bedroom -- every beat would be obvious to you if you were both blind and deaf. A few notable technical proficiencies, mostly facilitated by cinematography, set design, and sound editing, save the film from being unwatchable. And, frankly, I've always said a "bad" horror movie is still more enjoyable to watch than a "bad" entry of any other genre; the same is true here.

Even the presence of Sam Worthington and David Hyde Pierce can't save this movie from its depressing mediocrity and tedium. Their actions don't matter because their characters aren't conceived beyond their function to push along the plot. The climax wallows in tradition rather than leaning into what could have been the most important element of this story: Anthony's history of sexual abuse at the hands of a priest. Apart from a few jittery flashback images and a mumbled side comment or two, his history is almost ignored by the dialogue and editing, making his victory over the demon and apparent reclamation of his faith both muted, almost moot points. His last-minute conversion isn't believable, nor is it articulated well by the film, leaving his use of the rite hollow and meaningless when it should matter the most. Much how Joshua John Miller treated this movie in whole.