Rating: D+
Dir: Arkasha Stevenson
Star: Nell Tiger Free, Ralph Ineson, Nicole Sorace, Bill Nighy
Only in 2024, could Hollywood make a horror film about the birth of the Antichrist, where the villain is… the church. For the idea here is that they are trying to cause the Antichrist to be born, in order to counter the growing forces of secularism, and send people back into the arms of God. Now, I’m hardly religious, certainly not a Papist, and don’t agree with the Vatican on many issues. But this lunatic core concept makes about as much sense as Democrats For Trump. I suspect it indicates just how much the makers of this hate any institution which seeks to provide a framework of morality for people, rather than just saying, “You do you.”
I also ended up going down a rabbit hole with regard to the lead actress. I thought initially she was Native American or something, but no: Miss Tiger was born in Kingston upon Thames, actual middle name “Pickford”. This is me rolling my eyes. Anyway, she plays Margaret, a young novitiate who goes to Rome to complete her training, and finds herself in the middle of the conspiracy detailed above. being run by Cardinal Lawrence (Nighy). There’s another nun-to-be there, Carlita Scianna (Sorace), with whom Margaret bonds, and who appears to be “troubled” in a variety of ways – internally and externally. Margaret gets help from renegade priest Father Brennan (Ineson), who is seeking to uncover the plot from the outside.
I get that horror films often address social issues. But there’s addressing social issues, and there’s being locked in a closet for two hours, with a pink-haired entity in a pussy hat, who is screaming “My body! My choice!” at you. Guess which approach this takes? Arkasha Stevenson, subtlety is not thy middle name. Admittedly, it’s not exactly a franchise known for subtlety, the bits most people remember tending to be set-pieces involving church lightning rods and sheets of glass, with the melodrama amped up by Jerry Goldsmith’s effective, if near-hysterical score (inspiring Mark Korven’s work here). In this, it’s probably the fate of Charles Dance which you’ll remember, and the gnarliest birth scene since roadshow flick Mom and Dad, which gave the MPAA palpitations, with some justification.
However, the big twist before the final act is glaringly obvious, especially if you’ve seen Rosemary’s Baby – and it’s very clear Stevenson has. Once you’ve got there, you’re left waiting for the film to catch up, and there’s not much of interest for the hour in question. There’s also the usual issue with prequels: you know how it’s all going to end, and there’s limited room for divergence. Rather than invoking the simmering apocalyptic feel of the original movie, this feels closer to a low-budget pot-boiler like To the Devil a Daughter. Nighy is at least approaching an adequate stand-in for Christopher Lee as the power behind the Satanic insemination, but Free isn’t exactly Nastassja Kinski. Maybe I’ll check out Immaculate, 2024’s other naughty-nun flick, and see if it’s more holy satisfactory.