Any parent can tell you that raising a kid is expensive these days. That has to explain why acting icon/new dad Al Pacino can be seen getting his slum on in the latest exorcism movie, “The Ritual.”
Perhaps the first religious thriller to be produced in association with Buzzfeed Studios (how the hell did that happen?), “Ritual” is the umpteenth retelling of the exorcism of Emma Schmidt, a Midwestern woman who allegedly was a victim of demonic possession in the late 1920s. While the story has been dramatized on film oh-so-many times (including the trailblazing, Oscar-winning one you’re obviously thinking of right now), this one goes about telling a heavily truncated version of the actual story.
Pacino gets all hunched, scruffy, and ethnic as Theophilus Riesinger, a Roman Catholic priest who comes to a small-town parish in pre-Great Depression Iowa to lead the “solemn sacrament” of drawing out “the devils” from Schmidt (Abigail Cowen). Second-in-command is parish priest Joseph Steiger (Dan Stevens, looking exhausted and pasty), whose faith has been wavering ever since the death of his brother.
“Ritual” cuts a lot of corners on screen and in the story. Co-writer/director Danny Midell lets you know this was definitely a low-budget production by shooting everything in hand-held, cinema verite form. The upside? They didn’t have to worry much about period-piece production design. (There were a couple of old-timey cars in one possibly CGI-ed shot.) The downside? I felt like I was watching an episode of “Succession.”
While the principal players are based on real people, “Ritual” predictably throws out some facts and comes up with new, culturally relevant ones. While the real Schmidt was actually in her mid-forties when she was exorcised, this version has her young, freckle-faced and straight-up angelic. Apparently, Midell and co-writer/producer Enrico Natale decided it’s much easier for viewers to have sympathy for a gal whose whole life is ahead of her, instead of a middle-aged hag whose glory days are long behind her.
Condensing that half year of daily exorcising to just a few days, all this action takes place in a parish that—for the racist, roaring twenties—doesn’t hide their sisters of color. I once read that African American sisters who joined white covens had to be hidden or White-passing. While I’m glad the sistas in the flick can add this to their resumes—as much as I hate to admit it—there is such a thing as “too woke.”
Pacino and company present enough straight-faced concern and earnestness through their performances that I thought the movie, derivative as it may be, would be compelling enough to keep me watching. (Midell also throws in some antsy jump scares, heightened by composers Jason Lazurus and Joseph Trapanese’s loud, bombastic music cues.) But — I’m not gonna lie—they had me in the first half. Not only does the movie descend into predictably supernatural, building-shaking chaos, but it also reveals itself to be flagrantly, stubbornly pro-faith. (I sensed it might end up down this road when I saw the reverend mother being played by TV mom/out-and-proud conservative Christian Patricia Heaton.)
As the resident progressive pragmatist, Steiger constantly puts up a fight when it comes to accepting the otherworldly shit he witnesses. Even though Schmidt does everything from vomit bile to speak Latin to rip hair out of a sister’s scalp, he still believes she just needs medical attention. In a couple scenes, Riesinger gives him some tough-love monologues on how unspeakable evil such as this can’t be solved with science or psychology or any hippy-dippy crap. You gotta be all in with God or not at all, he basically tells him.
While those monologues reek of good ol’, blind-faith, science-denying propaganda, they at least sound stirring because Pacino’s saying it. Maybe more faith-based films should get icons of stage and screen to spout their God talk like ”The Ritual” does. It would make things at least partially interesting. Besides, Jon Voight can’t be the old, wise dude in every conservative-leaning movie.
