Bless Me, Father, for I Have Watched This
There are bad horror movies. There are worse exorcism movies. And then there’s The Vatican Tapes — a film so catastrophically dull it could turn the Antichrist back to church just to escape the boredom. Directed by Mark Neveldine (yes, the Crank guy), this cinematic séance feels less like a battle for humanity’s soul and more like a mid-tier YouTube compilation titled Priests React to Weird Stuff.
The movie claims to explore demonic possession and Vatican secrets, but it’s really about how far a $13 million budget can stretch when half of it is spent on fake vomit and rosary beads. What begins as a promising premise — a young woman possessed by evil forces while the Vatican investigates — quickly devolves into 91 minutes of people yelling scripture at drywall.
If faith can move mountains, this film can bury them under clichés.
Plot: The Devil Wears Mediocrity
Angela Holmes (Olivia Taylor Dudley) is your average movie protagonist: pretty, bland, and cosmically cursed. Her life unravels after she cuts her finger on her birthday cake — a scene so unintentionally funny it might as well have been directed by Mel Brooks. The wound becomes infected, she has seizures, crashes a taxi, falls into a coma, wakes up fine, and then immediately starts doing things that scream, “Yes, I’m possessed, please get a priest.”
She drowns a baby (sort of), convinces a detective to kill himself, and generally behaves like someone auditioning for America’s Got Demons. Michael Peña plays Father Lozano, a priest who seems permanently confused about whether he’s in a faith-based drama or a deleted scene from Ant-Man.
Eventually, the Vatican steps in, led by Cardinal Bruun (Peter Andersson), who travels from Rome with the same enthusiasm one reserves for visiting the DMV. He determines that Angela isn’t just possessed — she is the Antichrist. This revelation lands with all the power of a dropped communion wafer.
Bruun tries an exorcism that ends with Angela vomiting blood, eggs, and dignity before dying, resurrecting, and walking off to start her own messianic tour. The final shot features her in an arena, welcoming her followers like a demonic pop star. Honestly, it’s the only moment in the movie with energy — by then, the Antichrist feels like a breath of fresh sulfur.
Acting: Deliver Us from This Cast
Olivia Taylor Dudley deserves credit for commitment. She throws herself (and occasionally her voice) into the role, twisting her body, snarling in Aramaic, and trying her best to make “possessed by Satan” feel fresh. Unfortunately, the script gives her nothing but the usual buffet of clichés: head tilts, creepy smiles, and eyes that change color whenever the CGI team remembers to log in.
Michael Peña, a talented actor tragically misplaced here, seems unsure whether he’s the film’s emotional anchor or its comic relief. Watching him recite exorcism rites is like watching a stand-up comic read from The Book of Revelation. Dougray Scott, as Angela’s father, reacts to supernatural horror the way one reacts to spilled milk: weary, mildly inconvenienced, and already planning to clean it up later.
And then there’s Djimon Hounsou — a man who has survived The Island, The Legend of Tarzan, and Eragon — now reduced to five minutes of exposition in a candlelit office. He speaks gravely about cosmic evil while visibly wondering how fast he can cash the check.
Direction: Mark Neveldine’s Holy Misfire
Neveldine, one half of the duo behind Crank and Gamer, is known for kinetic, chaotic energy — the cinematic equivalent of downing six Red Bulls and filming your regrets. So imagine the shock when The Vatican Tapes feels slower than a Sunday sermon in Latin.
There’s no adrenaline, no absurdity, not even a decent jump scare. It’s as if he went on a spiritual retreat and returned allergic to editing. The film has all the momentum of a broken confessional door: stuck, creaky, and going nowhere fast.
Visually, it tries for found-footage realism but ends up looking like a Lifetime movie filmed in a basement. The titular “Vatican tapes” appear for about two minutes, which feels like a bait-and-switch on par with buying The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and getting Home Improvement: Season 2.
Writing: Holy Plotholes, Batman
The screenplay — by Christopher Borrelli and Michael C. Martin — feels like a collaborative effort between Google Translate and a random number generator. Characters speak in exposition so stiff it could double as church pews.
The dialogue oscillates between pseudo-religious mumbo-jumbo (“She’s not possessed — she is the evil!”) and Hallmark-level melodrama (“She was such a good girl…”). Every revelation feels copied from a superior exorcism film: The Exorcist, The Exorcism of Emily Rose, The Rite — all exorcised of originality before landing here.
And the pacing! The film takes 70 minutes to arrive at the Vatican subplot that the title promises, only to speed through it like a priest late for confession. If you blink, you’ll miss the entire justification for the movie’s existence.
Theology of Tedium: A Sermon in Sleep
To its credit, The Vatican Tapes tries to explore big ideas — faith, corruption, the modern church — but only in the way a toddler “tries” to drive a car. It tosses around religious iconography like confetti, without ever committing to a real theme.
At one point, ravens start circling Angela to symbolize Satan’s power. It’s meant to be ominous, but the CGI birds look like they escaped from a screensaver circa 1998. The climactic exorcism should be terrifying, but instead feels like a particularly loud therapy session interrupted by a bird infestation.
When Angela finally becomes the Antichrist, it’s supposed to be shocking. Instead, it feels like the logical result of spending 90 minutes trapped in this movie — who wouldn’t turn evil after that?
Cinematography and Music: A Tale of Two Senses
Gerardo Mateo Madrazo’s cinematography tries hard to be atmospheric, but mostly looks like a dimly lit cable commercial for holy water. Everything’s blue-tinted, foggy, or inexplicably wet.
Joseph Bishara’s score, on the other hand, is the film’s lone saving grace. The composer behind Insidious and The Conjuring delivers eerie, shrieking soundscapes that almost trick you into thinking something interesting is happening. Unfortunately, the visuals refuse to cooperate. It’s like pairing Beethoven with elevator footage.
Final Judgment: An Exorcism in Futility
The Vatican Tapes is a horror film with no horror, a theological thriller with no theology, and a possession movie that couldn’t scare a nun. It mistakes solemnity for depth and confusion for mystery.
By the time Angela spreads her arms to a stadium of brainwashed followers, you’re not terrified — you’re relieved. Because it means the movie’s over, and you can finally repent for wasting your evening.
If the Antichrist truly walks among us, she probably just wants to apologize for this script.
Grade: D–
Recommended for: People who found The Exorcist too coherent, anyone collecting cinematic sins, and fans of Michael Peña who enjoy watching him suffer for reasons that are neither spiritual nor entertaining.
