The Pope’s Exorcist is the kind of movie that feels like it was greenlit after someone said, “What if Russell Crowe did The Exorcist, but, like, fun?” and then nobody in the room had the courage to say no. Based (very loosely) on the writings of Father Gabriele Amorth, it takes a fascinating real person and turns him into a Vatican action figure who solves demonic problems with banter, a scooter, and the spiritual depth of a theme-park attraction.
Father Amorth, Demon Slayer and Scooter Influencer
Russell Crowe leans into the role like he’s playing a holy version of Columbo who stopped caring three miracles ago. His Amorth is earthy, joking, and rides a scooter like a man who’s late for a wine tasting, not an exorcism. It could’ve been brilliant camp, but the film wants us to take him seriously as a tormented warrior of faith and as a lovable rascal. Instead, he lands somewhere between meme and mid-life crisis, a priest who looks ten seconds away from asking the demon if it’s tried therapy.
The Tribunal of Boredom
Early on, Amorth is hauled before a Church tribunal for his pig-possessing stunt, and this should be a chance to explore institutional doubt and faith. Instead, we get Cardinal Sullivan, whose defining character trait is “doesn’t believe in demons in a demon movie.” Their debate has all the intensity of two guys arguing over Wi-Fi passwords. This subplot exists purely to establish that Amorth is a rogue maverick priest, which would be more compelling if every other exorcism movie of the last fifty years hadn’t done the same thing, usually better and with fewer pigs.
The Haunted Airbnb in Spain
The main plot, such as it is, relocates us to a crumbling Spanish abbey inherited by grieving American widow Julia and her kids Henry and Amy. The place practically screams “non-refundable deposit,” but they decide to move in anyway, because real estate logic dies first in horror. The moment workers are blasted by a hell-flavored gas leak, everyone should leave. Instead, they stay, Henry gets possessed, Amy gets moody, and Julia gets the worst job in horror cinema: standing in the corner, crying, and occasionally asking, “What’s happening to my son?”
Possession by Numbers
Henry’s possession is a greatest-hits compilation of Exorcist tropes: contorted body, obscene insults, supernatural knowledge of everyone’s trauma, and enough growling to qualify as a throat condition. None of it is particularly scary or fresh; it’s like watching a cover band of better possession scenes. The demon taunts Amorth about World War II, mocks Esquibel’s sins, and occasionally remembers it’s supposed to be menacing. It all blurs together into one long sequence of “Shout Latin, splash water, cut to CGI veins.”
Esquibel, Patron Saint of Bad Decisions
Father Esquibel is the younger priest assigned to help Amorth, and he’s basically an exorcist intern who keeps failing upward. His big character flaw is that he once had sex and didn’t marry the woman, which the film treats like a devastating spiritual scandal rather than something 80% of the audience has done by Tuesday. He oscillates between earnest devotion and near-homicidal panic, at one point trying to strangle Henry during a possession. If the demon didn’t destroy the Church, Esquibel’s impulse control probably would.
Lore-Dumping in the Hell Basement
Midway through, the movie decides it wants lore. Lots of lore. A secret well! A buried Inquisition exorcist! A sealed demon! A conspiratorial Church cover-up! It’s like someone dumped four other scripts into this one and hit puree. The underground sequence, with its cages and skeletons, should be chilling, but it plays like a low-budget video game level: explore, find the backstory, unlock the boss name (Asmodeus), then return upstairs for the final fight. Any chance at genuine dread is sacrificed to franchise-ready mythology.
Confession as Exposition Dump
The film’s emotional climax is a dual confession between Amorth and Esquibel, in which they mutually absolve each other. It should be powerful—two flawed men confronting their sins before facing evil—but the writing treats confession as a handy vehicle for backstory rather than a genuine spiritual reckoning. Amorth’s guilt over the woman he didn’t help and Esquibel’s guilt over premarital sex feel like items on a checklist: “Give each man one trauma, keep it moving.” It’s less sacramental catharsis and more mandatory HR debrief.
The Final Exorcism: Now with More CGI
By the time we reach the final exorcism, the movie has fully embraced over-the-top spectacle. Amorth willingly offers himself to be possessed, gets puppeteered around like a demonic marionette, and tries to hang himself at Asmodeus’s command. It might’ve landed emotionally if the film hadn’t already buried us under clichés. Instead, we get CGI faces, booming voices, fire, stone statues, and all the subtlety of a metal album cover, without the energy. The demon’s grand plan—to infiltrate and destroy the Church from within—sounds terrifying, but the execution mostly involves Russell Crowe snarling in prosthetics.
Vatican Cinematic Universe, Assemble
The ending turns shamelessly into franchise setup: the abbey is reconsecrated, Henry is fine, the Pope recovers, and Amorth and Esquibel are told there are 199 more evil sites to investigate. Amorth cracks a joke about going to Hell, and you can almost hear the producers whispering “sequel” into the microphone. It’s less a conclusion and more a content roadmap. The problem is, you have to earn a franchise, and this movie barely earns its runtime.
Final Verdict: Demonically Derivative
The Pope’s Exorcist isn’t the worst possession movie ever made, but it might be one of the most aggressively average. It flirts with camp and character but retreats into formula whenever things get interesting. Crowe is clearly having fun, the premise has potential, and a grounded exploration of Amorth’s real-life work could’ve been fascinating. Instead, we get a paint-by-numbers exorcism flick dressed up in papal robes, hoping the combo of Latin, jump scares, and a scooter-riding priest will be enough to feel fresh.
The devil may be in the details—but here, the details mostly feel recycled.
