Producers: Ross Marks, Andrew Stevens, Mitchell Welch and Enrico Natale   Director: David Midell   Screenplay: David Midell and Enrico Natale   Cast: Al Pacino, Dan Stevens, Ashley Greene, Abigail Cowen,  Maria Camila Giraldo, Meadow Williams, Courtney Rae Allen, Enrico Natale, Liann Pattison, Patrick Fabian, Richie Montgomery, Emily Brinks and Patricia Heaton   Distributor: XYZ Films

Grade: D

This exorcism movie is distinguished by the fact that it’s based on an actual incident of purported demonic possession that occurred in 1928, and its major characters are named after the principals in it.  An account of the event based on a memoir by one of the priest officiants was published by Carl Vogl in Germany and translated into English as “Begone, Satan!” in 1935 (the following year Time Magazine published a report on the episode), and director David Midell and his co-writer Enrico Natale have obviously used it in constructing their script.  Of course, they made some alterations in the cause of dramatic urgency (for example, the actual exorcism occurred in three stages between August and December, but it’s compressed into a much shorter span here).

In all other respects, unfortunately, “The Ritual” is thoroughly undistinguished.  Despite the presence of a strong cast, it’s a drab, uninspired affair that can’t compare with the granddaddy of the genre, William Friedkin’s “The Exorcist” (1973).  Although that film (and the 1971 best-seller by William Peter Blatty on which it was based) were inspired by a different “real” exorcism (that of Roland Doe in 1949), some of their details show the influence of Vogl’s account of the earlier episode.  (In return, one discerns strong echoes of “The Exorcist” here.)     

The narrative is, rather curiously, centered on Father Joseph Steiger, the pastor of St. Joseph’s Catholic parish in Earling, Iowa, who, according to this version, was assigned the job of hosting the ritual by his bishop (Patrick Fabian) against his better judgment: he was himself struggling emotionally at the time, his brother Michael having committed suicide only recently, and he was reluctant to welcome the Capuchin friar Theophilus Riesinger (Al Pacino) and the possessed woman Emma Schmidt (Abigail Cowen) to the Franciscan convent next door, where Riesinger was to conduct the ceremony with Steiger’s assistance as well as that of several of the nuns.  In reality Steiger and Riesinger were, the record suggests, acquainted before 1928, and rather than being surprised by the bishop’s assignment, the pastor was instrumental in arranging for the exorcism to be held in Earling.

But “The Ritual” glides over that inconvenient fact, and becomes an account of Father Steiger’s initial discomfort over what he considers the mistreatment of Schmidt, a skeptical attitude transformed gradually by the experience into commitment to see the ceremony through and even take charge of its culminating phase—not unlike what Father Karras does at the close of “The Exorcist,” albeit not to a similar extreme.  Steiger’s inspired, moreover, by reference to his late brother’s name, Michael, in calling on the archangel for assistance.  (Recall Karras’ grief over the recent death of his mother, and how the demon used it against him.)

There are dramatic possibilities in this, but Midell and Natale flub them badly.  “The Ritual” mostly limps along at a pokey pace, hobbled by desultory editing by co-writer/co-producer Natale (who also takes on a small role as a doctor called in by Steiger at a crucial point) and by jerky, hand-held cinematography from Adam Biddle.  The DP isn’t helped by the cramped locations (in Mississippi, not Iowa)—at one point the action’s transferred to a little cellar that’s called a catacomb!—and by effects (levitation, heavy makeup) that are rudimentary at best.  The interior of the church that was employed is very nice in the old style, but otherwise the production design by Julie Toche is basically catch-as-catch-can, and there’s a score (by Jason Lazarus and Joe Trapanese) that leaves no impression whatever.

Pacino offers a surprisingly low-key turn as the avuncular Riesinger, mumbling most of his dialogue in an unidentifiable accent but intoning the lines of the ritual (in English, not Latin, though the latter language is rightly employed in snippets of the masses of the period) with something approaching conviction (and there are lots of them).  Cowen does her best as the possessed woman, spewing out the familiar threats and insults, but Stevens (who reportedly replaced Ben Foster as shooting began) gives a terrible performance, all frantically empty histrionics that are especially risible beside Pacino’s restraint.

The other major performance comes from Ashley Greene, who’s suitably demure as Sister Rose, a dedicated young nun who pays a price for getting too close to the disturbed woman when a piece of her scalp is ripped off; the other sisters (played by Maria Camila Giraldo, Meadow Williams, Liann Pattison and Courtney Rae Allen) are mostly window-dressing, though Patricia Heaton gets some mileage out of the role of the stern Mother Superior, who regrets allowing her convent to be used for such a troublesome purpose but, like Steiger, comes around in the end.  Fabian seems uncomfortable in the episcopal garb he dons for his single scene.

There have been so many exorcism movies since 1973, varying from pure horror to silly spoof, that new ones need to do something radically different to merit more than a passing glance.  “The Ritual” just treads overly familiar territory in a thoroughly pedestrian fashion.  Claiming an imprimatur of authenticity is hardly enough to make it worth watching.

Producers: John Caglione Jr. and Stevan Mena   Director: Stevan Mena   Screenplay: Stevan Mena   Cast:  Veronica Cartwright, Madelyn Dundon, Michael Steger, Michael Bakkensen, T.C. Carter, Nicola Silber, Drew Moerlein, Kayleigh Ruller, Janet Lopez and Vincent Butta   Distributor: Seismic Releasing

Grade: D

In a way the title of Stevan Mena’s movie (which he edited and wrote the music for, in addition to writing and directing it), is an example of truth in advertising: it purports to be a thriller, but that’s a ruse: it’s so ponderously paced and clumsily constructed that it engenders zero suspense or tension.  It does have a lot of twists, though—so many, in fact, that in the end it takes a good twenty minutes of laborious explanation by a third-rate Columbo (Michael Bakkensen as a detective named Burke), complete with flashbacks and periodic objections from the villain, to unravel the preposterously convoluted scheme, and the motivations behind it, that drive the plot.  Any viewer who’s stuck it out until then will be either exhausted, incredulous, or both.

The setting is a big old house on a remote slice of the Maine coast, owned by Olivia (Veronica Cartwright), a composer and orchestral conductor who’s widowed and suffering from dementia that involves periods of lucidity alternating with others of confusion and anger, as well as COPD, which mostly confines her to bed and an oxygen mask.  Her condition requires a live-in caregiver, and in a prologue we meet the latest of them, Tracy (Kayleigh Ruller), who’s insisting over the phone to her supervisor Ed (Vincent Butta) that he needs to send a replacement.  She’s terrified by noises in the house and believes herself in danger.  After she hangs up, she turns toward the camera and screams, leaving a suggestion that something supernatural might be afoot.

Cut to Dale (Madelyn Dundon) in the city, living with her boyfriend Ben (Drew Moerlein).  A nurse who’s been put on leave for an incident in which a patient died in her care, she’s called by Ed to earn her job back by stepping in for Tracy.  Despite Ben’s reluctance to see her go, she drives up the coast to Olivia’s house.  But she’s greeted not by Tracy, who’s simply disappeared, but by Tom (Michael Steger), the solicitous neighbor who found Olivia all alone.  A widower with a young daughter named Penny (Nicola Silber), he shows Dale around and gives her his number should she need help.

Dale’s interactions with Olivia vary wildly.  Sometimes the woman berates her, but at others has nice conversations with her.  Dale is a bit unsettled by her insistence that the ghost of her husband occasionally walks the halls, and by the bumps and squeaks that occur in the old place (who—or what—made that painting hang crooked?), but the real problems are the few people she deals with.  Tom is pleasant but kind of shifty, Penny seems withdrawn, and Jacob (T.C. Carter), the deliveryman, is positively weird, claiming that Tom has it in for him while trying to get close to Dale himself.  It’s not long before Dale is as nervous as Tracy had been, and her concerns about her predecessor’s fate—and her own—grow.  It’s not long before she’s asking Ed for a replacement, too, and eventually Alice (Janet Lopez) will show up to take over the caretaking job.

By then, however, things have gone totally off the rails, and it’s been a long time coming.  Red herrings abound, suspects are indicated, dropped in favor of others and then brought back for renewed consideration, and finally after misdirection after misdirection—as well as a messy climactic attack—Burke, who’s appeared up until then an officious dweeb, shows up to explain everything in that protracted speech, in which facts previously unknown are suddenly sprung on viewers out of the blue.  Turns out he’s been a dutiful shamus all along.

Cartwright, who has a résumé stretching back to when she was a kid, does her best to salvage her scenes, but it’s a losing effort.  The rest of the cast veers from pallid (Dundon, Bakkensen) to way over-the-top (Carter), but it would be pointless to beat up on any of them; the material is hopeless, and that’s that.  The tech crew—production designer Jack Ryan, cinematographer Cory Geryak—do adequate work, and the Maine location is attractive enough.  But as editor Mena is too protective of his script, allowing it to unfold lethargically; and his score is generic.

The message: don’t be taken in by this “Ruse.”