The 1970s were rife with Italian exploitation films trying to cash in on the success of The Exorcist, and The Antichrist(Italian: L’anticristo) is one of those attempts that completely misses the mark. Directed by Alberto De Martino and featuring a cast that includes Carla Gravina, Mel Ferrer, and Arthur Kennedy, this film is nothing more than a hodgepodge of occult tropes and nonsensical supernatural events wrapped in a package that tries too hard to be shocking, but ends up being laughably bad. It’s a cash-in attempt so blatant, even the demon feels like it’s just there for a paycheck.
The plot is a muddled mess that tries to be “deep” and “mysterious” but ends up being a chaotic jumble of clichés, character motivations that make no sense, and way too much time spent on nothing. Ippolita (Carla Gravina) is a paraplegic woman who was paralyzed after a car accident at age 12, a trauma that’s apparently more psychological than physical. Her father, Massimo (Mel Ferrer), a wealthy aristocrat, has been playing the role of doting caretaker for years. But when he begins a new romantic relationship, Ippolita’s attachment issues flare up, and she’s driven to seek help from her uncle, a Vatican cardinal (Arthur Kennedy), and a secular parapsychologist (Umberto Orsini). What follows is a bizarre sequence of events involving repressed memories, a past-life witch, demonic possession, telekinetic powers, and way too many scenes of people staring into space while things happen around them, without anyone really doing anything to advance the plot.
The film’s first mistake is trying to convince the audience that it’s a sophisticated supernatural thriller. Instead of providing real scares or tension, it leans too heavily on big concepts like past-life regression and witchcraft, but in the most superficial, predictable ways possible. The demon’s motivations are so vague that you’re left wondering if even itknew what was going on. We’re told that Ippolita’s ancestor made a pact with Satan and that she was burned at the stake for being a witch, and that this spirit enters Ippolita’s body. But the way the film presents this backstory is more of a haphazard dump of exposition, not a carefully crafted unfolding of mystery. And when Ippolita becomes fully possessed, the movie’s climax involves her developing telekinetic powers and murdering a tourist because, well, why not? It’s an Exorcist-style possession, but without any of the genuine horror or psychological complexity that made that film great.
The performances are painfully stiff. Carla Gravina’s portrayal of Ippolita tries to straddle the line between a tragic woman and a demonic force, but ends up as a confusing mess of blank stares and dramatic monologues. She’s neither sympathetic nor frightening — she’s just… there. Mel Ferrer, playing the ever-loving father, seems to be there solely for the paycheck. His performance is as uninspired as the character’s actions, as Massimo spends most of the film running around, getting involved in exorcisms, and somehow still managing to make the situation about him and his grief. Arthur Kennedy’s Cardinal Ascanio is as lackluster as you’d expect from a character who is supposed to be pivotal, but spends his time just kind of standing around and looking confused, occasionally dropping vague statements about “the Church’s authority.” It’s all a bit of a drag, especially when the film asks you to care about characters who are too poorly written to evoke any emotional reaction.
Let’s talk about the demon. Oh, wait, there isn’t much to say. The demon here is about as threatening as a bad hangover. It’s supposed to be this ancient evil force, but it manifests in the most bizarre, unoriginal ways possible: using telekinetic powers, wreaking havoc on the household, and occasionally spouting off lines that feel ripped from an unfinished script. But none of this is terrifying, because there’s no build-up, no atmosphere — just a lot of people shouting and trying to look horrified. There’s nothing to make you feel the weight of Ippolita’s possession or the looming threat of the Antichrist. Instead, it’s just a series of visual tricks and cheap scares that don’t go anywhere.
The film’s pacing is agonizingly slow, a long stretch of nothing happening with random bursts of action. At one point, you’ll be staring at 20 minutes of people sitting and talking about demons and past lives, followed by a few minutes of Ippolita throwing things across a room with her mind. There’s no rhythm, no sense of urgency, no emotional stakes. The exorcism sequence, which should be the film’s climax, is so dragged out and boring that you’ll wonder if the demon itself fell asleep during filming. When Father Mittner (George Coulouris) enters the picture to perform the final exorcism, the only thing that gets exorcised is your patience.
Even Ennio Morricone’s score, typically a highlight in any film, fails to save this one. The music is sporadically effective, but it’s often overwhelmed by the film’s cheap aesthetic and distracting visual style. The film tries to create a sense of grandeur but ends up feeling like a poorly constructed mess, with scenes that go on too long and nothing substantial ever being accomplished.
Ultimately, The Antichrist is a film that asks more of its audience than it can deliver. It has all the right elements on paper: an exorcism, a family tragedy, a demonic possession, telekinetic powers — and yet it somehow manages to turn every one of those elements into something dull and uninspired. It’s as though it’s trying to be a serious horror film but doesn’t have the guts to commit to any of its concepts, falling instead into an abyss of bad writing, bad acting, and badly executed suspense.
If you’re looking for a good supernatural horror film, look elsewhere. The Antichrist is a tedious, half-hearted attempt to cash in on the Exorcist-mania that failed to bring anything of substance to the genre. It’s a missed opportunity at best, and a bad movie at worst. The only thing that might be possessed in this film is your time.
