Some films are misunderstood masterpieces, ahead of their time, too daring for mainstream audiences. Desecration is not one of those films. This 1999 horror debut from Dante Tomaselli is less “bold vision” and more “what if you gave a Catholic school dropout a camcorder, some nuns, and an endless supply of fog machines?” The result is a surreal fever dream that wants to be an arthouse exploration of grief and religion but ends up looking like the world’s longest Marilyn Manson music video—minus the budget and plus a lot of screaming teenagers.
Meet Bobby: The Poster Child for Catholic Guilt
Our protagonist, Bobby Rullo (Danny Lopes), is a 16-year-old boy who’s equal parts grief-stricken, hormonal, and bad at decision-making. His mother died tragically, his father is stricter than a military drill sergeant, and his grandmother could out-Catholic the Pope. He’s suffocated by rosaries, guilt, and stern lectures about morality. Basically, Bobby is living inside one long PSA for “this is why therapy exists.”
Instead of, say, getting counseling, Bobby stumbles through life having visions, daydreams, and nightmare sequences that blur so heavily together that by the halfway mark, you’re not sure if anything in the movie is real. Is the nun bleeding from the eyes? Is the crucifix upside down? Or did Bobby just fall asleep during mass again?
Death by Accident (or Poor Scriptwriting)
The “plot” kicks into gear when Bobby accidentally kills Sister Madeline. How? The movie never quite makes this clear—it’s somewhere between a fit of rage and a bad slapstick routine. One second she’s yelling at him, the next she’s dead, and Bobby’s looking guilty while the film cues up its one special effect: ominous reverb.
This death unleashes supernatural chaos, as if the nun had been holding back Hell itself with her ruler and a stack of detention slips. Statues weep blood. Crosses invert. Bobby is plagued by visions of Hell, which apparently looks a lot like a high school basement with a strobe light and dry ice.
Dream Sequences, or: Did the Editor Fall Asleep?
The bulk of Desecration is dream sequence after dream sequence after dream sequence. And not the Lynchian kind where your brain buzzes with unsettling imagery. No, these are more like the kind of dreams you’d have after eating expired lasagna: random, loud, and vaguely religious.
One minute Bobby is in a classroom. Smash cut—he’s in Hell, surrounded by flames and demons that look like rejected Slipknot masks. Smash cut—he’s at home, grandma’s nagging him again. Smash cut—he’s at a funeral, except it might just be another dream. Watching this movie feels like channel-surfing at 3 a.m. on a TV where every channel is Catholic horror and the remote batteries are dying.
The Cast: Doing Their Best (Which Isn’t Much)
-
Danny Lopes as Bobby: He spends most of the movie wide-eyed and sweaty, like he just realized he left the oven on. His line delivery suggests he’s not sure what movie he’s in, which, to be fair, neither are we.
-
Irma St. Paule as Grandma Matilda: A fire-and-brimstone grandmother who spends her screentime scowling and reminding Bobby that he’s going to Hell. Imagine if the Wicked Witch of the West retired to teach catechism.
-
Christie Sanford as Sister Madeline/Mary Rullo: She doubles as the stern nun and Bobby’s dead mom, proving that this movie can’t resist doubling down on Catholic trauma.
-
Stacy Keach—oh wait, wrong film. This cast isn’t saved by any veteran actors cashing a paycheck. It’s strictly local-theater energy all around.
Hell on a Budget
The visions of Hell should’ve been the centerpiece of the movie. Instead, they look like the haunted house at your local county fair. Red gels on the lights, smoke machines working overtime, extras in bad masks waving their arms vaguely in the background. Dante Tomaselli clearly wanted to channel The Exorcist or Hellraiser; what he delivered was more Haunted Hayride: The Movie.
There’s one scene where Bobby is chased by demonic figures down a hallway, and it’s supposed to be terrifying. Instead, it looks like a student film version of Scooby-Doo without the laugh track. You half expect the demons to trip over each other in a pile-up while Bobby runs in place with cartoon sound effects.
The Soundtrack: Gregorian Chants on Crack
If you thought the visuals were chaotic, wait until you hear the audio. Every dream sequence comes with distorted whispers, shrieking violins, and choir music that sounds like it was recorded in a bathroom stall. Instead of building tension, it grates on the nerves until you’d rather face Hell itself than another minute of echo-heavy chanting.
Symbolism? Or Just Random Stuff?
To its credit, Desecration does have themes: grief, Catholic repression, guilt, and adolescent sexuality. Unfortunately, they’re buried under so much surreal nonsense that it’s impossible to tell if you’re watching meaningful symbolism or just random props Tomaselli had lying around.
Upside-down crucifix? Symbolism!
Nun bleeding from the eyes? Symbolism!
Bobby screaming at the ceiling for no reason? …Okay, that one’s just filler.
By the end, it doesn’t feel like you’ve watched a horror film. It feels like you’ve sat through a semester of Religious Studies taught by a professor who hasn’t slept in weeks.
The Pacing: Eternal Damnation
At a brisk 82 minutes, this should’ve been quick and painless. Instead, it drags. Every scene feels twice as long as it needs to be, padded with long shots of Bobby staring into space while something vaguely spooky happens in the background. It’s as if the director thought, “If I make the audience as bored and confused as Bobby, they’ll truly understand his torment.” Mission accomplished, Dante.
The Ending: Straight to Hell (and the Credits)
The climax sees Bobby finally consumed by his visions of Hell, dragged down by demons while his family continues to scold him. It’s meant to be a terrifying descent into eternal damnation. Instead, it looks like the end of a bad industrial music video. The flames are fake, the demons are laughable, and the only real horror is realizing this film got sequels.
Final Verdict
Desecration tries to be a surreal meditation on grief and religion but ends up a confusing, low-budget slog through Catholic iconography and fog machines. Its endless dream sequences blur together into a mess of cheap scares, bad acting, and half-baked symbolism. What should’ve been an unsettling horror debut is instead a cautionary tale about what happens when you mistake incoherence for artistry.
Yes, Dante Tomaselli drew from his own childhood trauma, and that’s admirable. But personal catharsis does not always equal compelling cinema. Sometimes it just equals 82 minutes of people wandering around churches while a smoke machine screams for mercy.
If Hell is eternal repetition of your worst mistakes, then watching Desecration is pretty close.
