This cheap horror flick os another one of those found-footage things that should have stayed lost.
“The Devil Inside” ONE STAR
Rated R for violence and strong language
Running time: 87 minutes
I know it’s awfully early, but I think I’ve already heard my favorite movie slogan of 2012: “The Vatican does not endorse this film.”
I mean, really. Really? The venerable institution that signed off on the Crusades, the Inquisition and those Mrs. Paul’s fishsticks I had to eat on Fridays wouldn’t give “The Devil Inside” a pass?
Well, they were right.
This vile thing is a heck of a lot worse than Mrs. Paul’s tartar-sauced rectangles – and if my old school’s Dean of Discipline were still around, the cast and crew would all get a trip to detention and maybe a rap or two across the knuckles.
Of course, I should point out, this is all a marketing gimmick. In reality, the Holy See is not trying to keep you from seeing this movie (although the studio did try hiding it from critics). The Pope had nothing to do with any of this.
And if you’re smart, neither will you.
Made up of parts from “The Blair Witch Project,” “The Exorcist,” “Paranormal Activity” and “The Rite” – but not the best parts – it’s another one of those found-footage things, in which we’re supposed to believe that, no matter what happened, the cameraman never stopped filming (but also never bothered to buy a tripod or learn how to focus).
The film begins in 1980s America, when two priests and a nun come to exorcise a housewife, The night ends with three new martyrs, and a murderous madwoman soon on her way to an Italian asylum for the criminally insane.
Why Italy? Don’t ask yet. Just stay tuned as, 20 years later, her grown daughter now goes to Rome to ask that and a few other questions – accompanied by a wannabe documentarian and, eventually, two unorthodox priests.
And pretty soon it’s time for Italian curses, random violence, crude sexual suggestions, overturned furniture and raspy screams of “The pig is mine!” You know, like “The Real Housewives of New Jersey,” but without the shopping.
Without the budget, either. Horror movies don’t have to be lush – in fact, there’s a certain power to the ones, like the original “Night of the Living Dead,” that had to rely on chocolate syrup and a bucket of butcher’s offal for special effects.
But after “The Blair Witch Project” got by with sticks and stones and offscreen noises, filmmakers started thinking they didn’t have to show anything. Well, no. It’s better when you don’t show too much – but if your story is about the supernatural, eventually you’re going to have to come up with something.
“The Devil Inside” can’t.
Oh, it has a few nice European locations, and the smart idea of using a contortionist for one of the possessed victims. And Simon Quarterman, who plays one of the exorcists, is solidly believable, at least – he’s like what Hugh Dancy might be, with a worse agent.
But Fernanda Andrade makes no impression as the questing daughter. Suzan Crowley is merely screams and a frightwig as dear old Mom. And like many of its “inspirations” – legalese for “ripped-off sources” – the whole thing ends in a muddle of action and yelling and the by-now-obligatory shock cut to black.
“What the hell kind of movie was that?” the kid in front of me asked when it was all over.
The kind not endorsed by the Vatican, supposedly. Or, really, by anyone still in possession of their faculties.