‘The Exorcism’ Proves Russell Crowe Is Cinema’s New Demon Daddy

Russell Crowe is quickly becoming the reigning king of B-movies about demonic possession and the crucifix-powered religious practices required to thwart it and save innocents from Satan. On the heels of last year’s The Pope’s Exorcist (which is receiving a forthcoming sequel), the Oscar-winner now headlines The Exorcism, which hits theaters June 21.

The film is a meta story about an actor who stars in an exorcism movie that turns out to be plagued by an actual demon which preys upon his weaknesses. Silly and slipshod, it’s not the role that will catapult the acclaimed actor back into the types of projects he deserves. Nonetheless, there are minor pleasures to be had from watching Crowe transform himself into a latter-day Max Von Sydow, complete with sonorously recited prayers, agonized suffering, and staunch faith in the face of unholy evil.

In a prologue that sets the scene but is never properly explicated, an actor (Adrian Pasdar) reads from his script while walking through a massive multi-story house set on a giant soundstage. As this man’s lines indicate, the film he’s working on is a de facto remake of The Exorcist that we’ll later learn is called “The Georgetown Project.” If this is unimaginative, his fate is rather pedestrian: Upon reaching the bedroom where the climactic scene will take place, he’s suddenly cast into darkness and strangled by an invisible entity, thereby revealing that the production is haunted by the very sort of malevolent force that takes center stage in its fictional tale.

Despite the mysteriousness of this demise, the show must go on. In his apartment, Anthony Miller (Crowe) prepares for an audition for the lead part, all while dealing with the appearance of his daughter Lee (Ryan Simpkins), who’s been suspended from college and barely wants to deal with her dad, whom she combatively refers to as Tony. Through their tense conversations, Anthony’s read for director Peter (Adam Goldberg), and a church confession that’s the height of leaden exposition, The Exorcism elucidates the troubles besetting its protagonist: Once a marquee idol, Anthony has hit rock bottom thanks to a years-long ordeal during which he drowned himself in booze, drugs, and women rather than caring for his wife who was dying of cancer. Now wracked with shame, guilt, and remorse, he’s a broken man trying to redeem himself via his work.

Anthony’s audition doesn’t go particularly well, until Peter needles him by bringing up his past scandals. After landing the part, Anthony is introduced to Father Conor (David Hyde Pierce), who’s consulting on the film. Also joining the cast are Joe (Sam Worthington) and Blake (Chloe Bailey), the latter a TV actress who immediately generates romantic sparks with Lee, and the former a, well, guy whose name is Joe and looks like Sam Worthington.

It’s difficult to think of a smaller and more thankless role than this one for the Avatar star, although Samantha Mathis somehow manages to earn even less screen time as an executive who vanishes as quickly as she’s introduced. Whether this is due to budget constraints or editorial decisions, Worthington and Mathis’ characters are so inconsequential to these proceedings that it barely makes sense that they were hired in the first place.

As the cameras roll on “The Georgetown Project,” Anthony starts losing his grip. His drinking resumes, and he stares off into the distance with the creepy eyes of a haunted soul, culminating with him wandering into his apartment building’s lobby to urinate in a corner. Or, at least, that’s what he seems to do, since The Exorcism shrouds everything in consuming dimness that makes its spooky material semi-incomprehensible.

Adding to the silliness are untold instances of lights going on the flickering fritz, ostensibly because this is the sole way demons know how to spook their targets. Unsurprisingly, such single-minded gimmickry wears thin fast, and director Joshua John Miller (who co-wrote the script with M.A. Fortin) compounds it by eventually drenching Crowe in sunken-eyed, haggard-face make-up once Anthony begins succumbing to his Satanic adversary.

Early in The Exorcism, Peter tells someone that he’s making a psychological drama wrapped in the skin of a horror movie, and Miler seems to think he’s doing likewise. The problem, unfortunately, is that Anthony is an open book whose hang-ups are routine and bluntly articulated, and the way that they leave him vulnerable to the production’s demon are similarly obvious and dull. Fragmentary flashbacks suggest what Peter says aloud—namely, that Anthony was sexually abused by a priest when he was an altar boy—but despite this being public knowledge, Lee admits to having no knowledge of her dad’s past trauma. Lamer still, the film doesn’t bother explaining where its central devil came from; Blake just says that lots of unnatural stuff happens on movies like these, and the issue is left at that.

There are hints throughout that Father Conor might be more malevolent than he’s letting on, and Anthony repeatedly wrestles with his fear of being truthful (in life, and in his art). Yet The Exorcism is less substantial than even its shallow surface implies. Worse, it doesn’t care about generating suspense. Its fleeting death scenes are so anticlimactic (and underlit) that they come across as afterthoughts—and, therefore, akin to mercy killings that afford its real-life actors the opportunity to exit stage left before the formulaic finale.

The only redeemable element of The Exorcism, then, is Crowe, who takes Anthony far more seriously than anyone else involved in this dud. Embodying him with soul-deep anguish and shame, he makes the man’s challenges resonate as a genuine crisis of conscience, and he appears to be having legitimate fun once things go topsy-turvy and Anthony mutates into a wicked monster’s puppet, intent on hurting everyone who’s close to him.

Over the past few years, Crowe has by and large been consigned to substandard fare like this, and he’s consistently demonstrated that no matter the clunkiness of the writing and directing at hand, he remains a deft and charismatic performer capable of wringing authenticity from nonsense. Consequently, if The Exorcism won’t reverse his professional fortunes, it nevertheless proves his enduring stardom.