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.
