THE RITUAL (2025)

Studio:   XYZ Films
Director: David Midell
Writer:   David Midell, Enrico Natale
Producer: Andrew Stevens, Mitchell Welch, Ross Marks, Enrico Natale
Stars:    Al Pacino, Dan Stevens, Ashley Greene, Abigail Cowen, Maria Camila Giraldo, Meadow Williams, Courtney Rae Allen, Enrico Natale, Liann Pattison, Patrick Fabian, Patricia Heaton

Review Score:


Summary:

An experienced priest and his skeptical assistant perform an exorcism on a troubled girl possibly possessed by an evil force.


Synopsis:     

Review:

A veteran priest and his skeptical partner perform an exorcism on a teenage girl who may have a troubling psychological affliction or could possibly be possessed by an evil entity. Stop me if you’ve heard this one before. Better yet, stop yourself before you’re tempted to watch “The Ritual,” an interminably stiff and entirely derivative drag that’s an unrewarding chore to sit through.

Imagine a remake of “The Exorcist,” except instead of fear-filled moments featuring spinning heads, levitating beds, and projectile pea soup, suspense gets supplanted by the uneventful elements of exorcism bureaucracy: priests making phone calls to arrange transportation, bespectacled nuns poring over paperwork, and talking heads engaging in more quiet conversations than four hands can count. It’s highly unlikely this was the elevator pitch for “The Ritual,” yet that description is a shoe tailor-made for the film’s flat foot.

I can’t imagine what award-winning legend Al Pacino saw in such a stale script other than an opportunity to sop up a low-impact role that didn’t require hours in the makeup chair or exhausting acting preparations. Sporting an unmade head of hair that looks like he begrudgingly crept to set after a P.A. interrupted an afternoon nap in his trailer, Pacino simply slips on a priest’s cassock and recites dry lines, usually while seated in a church pew, office chair, or on a bench. Perhaps looking to inject a little life on his own since none was written for him, or perhaps being mischievous to see if anyone on this lower-level shoot would dare call him out, Pacino also employs a supposedly German accent that sounds like he's parodying a Jewish rabbi even though he plays a Catholic priest.

Like everyone else in the movie, Pacino’s Father Riesinger isn’t constructed as a complex character. He and the others are mere bodies built for delivering dull dialogue and facilitating mundane activities that constitute action. Pacino and Dan Stevens, the two top-billed names starring as the movie’s main battery of devout priest and doubtful priest, appear onscreen together without anyone else present for two or three minutes before they suddenly pair up for the exorcism’s first of seven nights. With no real relationship between them, they operate like two random men who happened to be put in the same room at the same time.

Curiously, there’s no Chris MacNeil surrogate to provide pathos. Emma, the girl at the center of this ordeal, has no family member at her side, making her another hollow husk with no distinguishable personality or motivated purpose other than growling and contorting while Pacino and Stevens shout Bible passages and splash her with holy water.

The movie makes only cursory attempts to layer in drama and emotional investment. Similar to Father Karras dealing with his deceased mother, Father Steiger bears the burden of his brother’s recent suicide, though nothing much comes of it other than one more excuse for Dan Stevens to scrunch his persistently pensive brow. He and Ashley Greene’s inconsequential Sister Rose share a seed of a side story where they appear romantically interested in one another, yet that too becomes one more moldy fruit to die on the vine, much like audience interest as the tiring minutes wear on.

In addition to drab production design dominated by grey hues and brown tones, the technical end flops alongside the plot with a bizarre choice to film most of the movie with a handheld camera. The intended effect presumably means to elicit guerrilla “NYPD Blue” authenticity or an off-the-cuff “Friday Night Lights” feel. The actual effect induces mild queasiness since it instead looks like the camera was too heavy for a jittery operator to consistently hold still.

An upset stomach is bad news for insomniacs who otherwise need no prescription to pop this pill for a start-to-finish snore. Proudly touting that it’s “based on a true story,” “The Ritual” provides a case study for the question, why tie a work of fiction to actual events when ho-hum history is a hurdle to creating engaging entertainment? A better question might be, why bother at all when films like “The Exorcist” have already adapted this same story with spectacular results this production couldn’t possibly hope to equal, much less surpass?

Review Score: 25