The Pope's Exorcist

I was about twenty minutes into The Pope’s Exorcist when I realized I’d accidentally sat on a stray piece of popcorn that had been wedged into my couch cushions since the Obama administration. It was cold, stale, and weirdly distracting, yet somehow, it perfectly matched the vibe of watching Russell Crowe zip through the streets of Rome on a tiny Lambretta scooter. There is something fundamentally joyful about seeing an Oscar winner, draped in a flowing black cassock and sporting a beard that looks like it smells of espresso and old vellum, playing a holy man who treats demon-hunting like a blue-collar plumbing job.

Directed by Julius Avery (who gave us the underrated Nazi-zombie romp Overlord), this film arrived in 2023—a year where we were all supposedly suffering from "franchise fatigue." While the MCU was stumbling, Russell Crowe decided to plant a flag for mid-budget, R-rated horror that doesn't care about "elevated" themes or A24-style metaphors for grief. This is a movie where a priest tells a demon a joke to annoy it. Russell Crowe is basically playing an Italian Mario with a holy water spray bottle, and honestly, it’s exactly what the genre needed.

The Vespa and the Vatican

The plot follows Father Gabriele Amorth, the Vatican’s real-life Chief Exorcist, as he’s dispatched by the Pope (played with weary grace by Franco Nero of Django fame) to a crumbling abbey in Spain. A young boy, Henry (Peter DeSouza-Feighoney), has been possessed by a demon that is less "creepy child" and more "vocal cord shredder." Alongside a local, less-experienced priest played by Daniel Zovatto (It Follows), Amorth uncovers a conspiracy involving the Spanish Inquisition that the Church has been burying for centuries.

What makes this work isn't the script—which leans heavily on the "Ancient Mystery" tropes we’ve seen since The Da Vinci Code—but the sheer force of personality behind the collar. Russell Crowe gives Amorth a mischievous glint. He drinks bourbon from a flask, he’s cheeky with his superiors, and he carries his exorcism kit like a weary detective carrying a badge. In an era where many horror leads feel like interchangeable vessels for trauma, Amorth is a character I actually want to hang out with. I found myself less interested in the demon and more interested in where he gets his espresso.

Practical Screams and Digital Dreams

While the film exists in our current age of "The Volume" and seamless CGI, Julius Avery leans into some deliciously tactile horror. When Henry’s body begins to contort, it feels heavy and painful. There’s a scene involving a bird being swallowed that made me audibly gag—a rarity for a guy who’s seen every Saw sequel. The atmosphere is thick with that damp, Spanish Gothic dread, captured beautifully by cinematographer Khalid Mohtaseb. It looks expensive, despite its relatively modest $18 million budget, which is a testament to how well the production team utilized their locations.

The sound design is the real MVP here. The demon, Asmodeus, is voiced by Ralph Ineson (The Witch), whose gravelly baritone is so deep it could probably shake the loose change out of your pockets. It’s a brilliant bit of casting; Ineson’s voice provides a weight that visual effects usually fail to achieve. However, the film does succumb to the modern "superhero" finale. The climax involves so much CGI fire and glowing symbols that this movie treats the Vatican like a level in a Resident Evil game. It loses the intimacy of the bedroom exorcism in favor of a literal dungeon crawl, which feels like a concession to modern blockbuster expectations.

Stuff You Didn't Notice (But Amorth Did)

Turns out, the real Gabriele Amorth was a bit of a legend long before the movie happened. He claimed to have performed over 100,000 exorcisms, though he frequently pointed out that most "possessions" were actually mental health issues that required a doctor, not a priest. Apparently, Russell Crowe did a massive amount of research, even meeting with people who knew the real Amorth, which explains why the performance feels so lived-in.

The production was also weirdly authentic in ways you wouldn't expect. They actually filmed some of the exterior Roman shots on location, and Crowe really did learn to handle that tiny scooter, which looks like it’s struggling for its life under his frame. Also, if you’re a fan of 70s genre cinema, seeing Franco Nero as the Pope is a massive "chef's kiss" moment. It’s a legacy casting choice that acknowledges the history of European genre film without being obnoxious about it. Lastly, despite being a "religious" movie, it was a huge hit in markets like Mexico and Brazil, proving that the Catholic-horror subgenre is still the undisputed heavyweight champion of international box offices.

The Pope’s Exorcist isn't going to redefine the genre or win any Best Picture nods, but it’s a masterclass in how to make a fun, character-driven horror movie in the 2020s. It embraces the absurdity of its premise while letting its lead actor chew the scenery until there’s nothing left but splinters. It’s a "Dad Movie" for people who like jump-scares and Latin chanting. If we get a sequel where Father Amorth takes his Vespa to another country to fight more demons, I’ll be the first one in line with my stale popcorn.