The Exorcism Review: Russell Crowe Deserves Better

Russell Crowe is a man with demons.

Earlier in his acting career, Crowe cultivated a reputation for his ferocious temper, culminating in his throwing a phone at a hotel concierge in 2005. So it’s an intriguing, if winking bit of casting that finds him in The Exorcism, about an actor whose addictions tanked his once high-flying career and who now finds himself starring in the apotheosis of schlock horror genres: an exorcism flick.

It could have been delicious to watch Crowe chew up a role like this—cheeky, scary, profane. It could have been a lot of things.

But the intensity just isn’t there in director Joshua John Miller’s debut film. The script, written by Miller and his partner M.A. Fortin, does an excellent job of paying homage to the great demonic possession films of yesteryear, even name-dropping a few of them as exposition. But the joke only goes so far.

Crowe plays struggling actor Anthony Miller, cast in a new horror film The Georgetown Projects, a pastiche of both The Exorcist and The Amityville Horror, after its lead dies on set under mysterious circumstances. Running at a paltry 93 minutes, it’s a horror film about the making of a horror film that never really gets cooking.

Miller’s past haunts him. His daughter Lee, portrayed by an excellent Ryan Simpkins, arrives just as he’s cast in the film and is witness to his spiritual and physical relapse. Simpkins brings a nascent groundedness to Lee, who is fresh off a suspension from her all-girls school for an act of protest that may have been an act of arson. They and Chloe Bailey, who portrays Miller’s young co-star Blake Halloway, both bring a glow and warmth to the screen whenever they appear together. It makes for a nice contrast with Crowe’s erratic and increasingly cold Miller.

Rounding out the cast are Sam Worthington, Adam Goldberg, and David Hyde Pierce. All three carry their roles dutifully. Goldberg makes the most of his few minutes on screen as an acid-tongued schlock-jock. Sam Worthington’s character could have used more time and development. At points, you forget about him entirely. Pierce eats up every line he delivers, taking a moment to savor the ridiculousness around him, though he still gives an earnestness and clarity of faith to his performance as Father Conor. He mugs his way through the third act—worth the price of admission alone if you decide halfway through that you should have seen a comedy.

The short run-time doesn’t allow for much more than exposition, with jump cuts and placards speeding you along. Russel Crowe does what he can to bring a gravitas to Miller, but the writing doesn’t support his effort. And it all feels a tad self-serious and cloying, like something you might buy from the Vatican gift shop. If you were a fan of his take on Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde in 2017’s The Mummy, then you’ll enjoy his performance here.

The possessed move at alarming speeds, spines bend the way they shouldn’t, and the demon king Moloch might be an executive producer on the film. All in all, The Exorcism is a fun but hollow take on a staple of the horror genre. Crowe deserves a hell of a lot better, but don’t we all?