![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Oh, Metflix, purveyors of fine quality garbage, today, you blessed me with the gem that is Diary of an Exorcist--Zero. It's been so long since I've seen anything so gleefully bad. It was a joy to watch in all its giddy, unrepentant awfulness.
Synopsis: Two Portuguese priests engage in a battle of spiritual fu with the Devil.
That's it. That's all there is to it. It is in Portuguese, which I did not know when I picked it, but no matter. There are handy subtitles. The fact that it was directed by a Brazilian adds some oomph to the deeply Catholic themes threaded throughout this glorious mess, and I suspect that it helped the characters' likeability. Like most horror roles, they're sparse and often wooden, but I couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the Vidal family, beset at every turn by the Devil's snares, and I found myself drawn to Father Baggio, the doughty counterpart to his cinematic forbearer, Father Merrin.
And bless them, but they committed to the demonic and went for broke. None of this bet-hedging claptrap about mental illness and scientific explanations here. Nope. Just the Devil and his minions, bare-ass and in-your-face and so refreshing after the dismal psychodramatic slog that was The Exorcism of Emily Rose. Possessed victims writhe and curse and utter dark prophecies and proposition their brother for a hearty fuck in front of the rest of the family, and it is fabulous. It's what possession movies are supposed to be. If I wanted to spend two hours pontificating about the human condition, I'd watch On Golden Pond or several insufferably-boring Supernatural episodes. This movie, bad as it was, knew its audience, and it delivered.
The actor who played Father Thomas Baggio deserves a round of applause. He was overwrought, but I thought he was going to stroke out during the exorcism of Father Vidal's sister, Paulinha. At the very least, he strained a disc in his back or blew out his vocal cords with all the dramatic, spasmodic flailing and righteous bellowing. I'm amazed he didn't put an eye out with the way he waved his cross around like D'Artagnan in the grips of a psychotic break. Bravo, sir, earn that paycheck, because that's all you'll be getting from this flick.
And how much Alka-Seltzer did the guy playing Fr. Vidal have to chew to foam at the mouth like that? There was so much drool. So much. During the climactic exorcism of Fr. Vidal, it looked like someone had jammed a sprinkler up his holy ass and turned it on.
Kudos to Netflix for bringing this hidden treasure of terribleness to my attention without making me pay for it.
Synopsis: Two Portuguese priests engage in a battle of spiritual fu with the Devil.
That's it. That's all there is to it. It is in Portuguese, which I did not know when I picked it, but no matter. There are handy subtitles. The fact that it was directed by a Brazilian adds some oomph to the deeply Catholic themes threaded throughout this glorious mess, and I suspect that it helped the characters' likeability. Like most horror roles, they're sparse and often wooden, but I couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the Vidal family, beset at every turn by the Devil's snares, and I found myself drawn to Father Baggio, the doughty counterpart to his cinematic forbearer, Father Merrin.
And bless them, but they committed to the demonic and went for broke. None of this bet-hedging claptrap about mental illness and scientific explanations here. Nope. Just the Devil and his minions, bare-ass and in-your-face and so refreshing after the dismal psychodramatic slog that was The Exorcism of Emily Rose. Possessed victims writhe and curse and utter dark prophecies and proposition their brother for a hearty fuck in front of the rest of the family, and it is fabulous. It's what possession movies are supposed to be. If I wanted to spend two hours pontificating about the human condition, I'd watch On Golden Pond or several insufferably-boring Supernatural episodes. This movie, bad as it was, knew its audience, and it delivered.
The actor who played Father Thomas Baggio deserves a round of applause. He was overwrought, but I thought he was going to stroke out during the exorcism of Father Vidal's sister, Paulinha. At the very least, he strained a disc in his back or blew out his vocal cords with all the dramatic, spasmodic flailing and righteous bellowing. I'm amazed he didn't put an eye out with the way he waved his cross around like D'Artagnan in the grips of a psychotic break. Bravo, sir, earn that paycheck, because that's all you'll be getting from this flick.
And how much Alka-Seltzer did the guy playing Fr. Vidal have to chew to foam at the mouth like that? There was so much drool. So much. During the climactic exorcism of Fr. Vidal, it looked like someone had jammed a sprinkler up his holy ass and turned it on.
Kudos to Netflix for bringing this hidden treasure of terribleness to my attention without making me pay for it.
Tags: