Welcome to the House of the Lord… and Deep, Unrelenting Misery
Let’s face it — the “found footage” subgenre has gotten about as stale as communion wafers left out since Vatican II. But then along comes The Devil’s Doorway (2018), an Irish horror film that dusts off the formula, dunks it in holy water, and then flings it violently against a stone wall.
Directed by Aislinn Clarke — the first female Irish filmmaker to helm a theatrically released horror film, by the way — The Devil’s Doorway resurrects the found footage format with the style of a grim exorcism documentary and the soul of a cinematic confession. Shot on 16mm film and dripping with Catholic guilt, it’s a nasty little miracle that manages to be deeply unsettling, emotionally resonant, and occasionally funny in the most despairing, Irish way possible.
It’s The Blair Witch Project meets The Exorcist, if The Exorcist had been shot in a convent run by women who’d rather chain a pregnant virgin to a wall than let her near a confessional.
Plot Summary: The Vatican Sends the Worst Buddy Cops Ever
It’s 1960s Ireland, which means you can practically smell the incense and institutional trauma. Two priests — Father Thomas Riley (Lalor Roddy) and Father John Thornton (Ciarán Flynn) — are dispatched by the Vatican to investigate a supposed miracle in a Magdalene Laundry, one of those charming Catholic workhouses where “fallen women” were enslaved, shamed, and occasionally worked to death.
Their mission? To determine whether a statue of the Virgin Mary really is weeping blood.
Spoiler: it is. And as it turns out, that’s not the weirdest thing happening inside.
The priests arrive like a mismatched divine duo. Father Thomas is the grizzled skeptic, a chain-smoking miracle debunker who’s clearly seen enough nonsense to last several lifetimes. Father John is young, bright-eyed, and about as ready for this assignment as a seminarian at a Slayer concert.
Once inside, the asylum’s Mother Superior (Helena Bereen) greets them with all the warmth of a viper in a habit. She insists there’s nothing to see, the blood’s probably ketchup, and would the nice priests kindly leave before the Devil gets ideas. Naturally, they ignore her, set up their cameras, and proceed to poke around like two men actively asking to be cursed.
Hell Is Other People (Especially Nuns)
From the moment the priests enter the asylum, Clarke’s film marinates the viewer in claustrophobia and moral decay. The laundry is shot like a haunted mausoleum — all cracked stone, dim corridors, and the lingering sounds of women’s suffering echoing down the halls.
The Magdalene Laundries, of course, were real institutions where unwed mothers and “sinful” girls were sent to work and repent. Clarke takes this historical horror and threads it seamlessly into her supernatural one. The evil in The Devil’s Doorway isn’t just demonic — it’s bureaucratic.
As Father John interviews the women, he discovers they’re treated like prisoners and routinely beaten for infractions like “smiling.” One inmate hints that babies have gone missing. Another mumbles about blood, sin, and things buried in the tunnels below. It’s all very Catholic Gothic: shame, secrecy, and the vague sense that God is watching, but He’s too horrified to intervene.
The Bleeding Virgin, the Pregnant Virgin, and the Cinematic Miracle
Eventually, the priests stumble upon the real miracle — a young girl named Kathleen (Lauren Coe), who is both pregnant and a virgin. She’s also chained up in the basement like a plot twist waiting to happen. The local doctor confirms her impossible condition, proving two things:
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God has a very dark sense of humor.
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Science really should stop taking calls from the Vatican.
What follows is a series of increasingly freaky events: walls that bleed, statues that cry, nuns that whisper like malfunctioning Siri devices, and a possession that makes you nostalgic for pea soup vomit.
Clarke films all of it through the priests’ handheld cameras, giving the horror a documentary immediacy that feels disturbingly real. The 16mm footage flickers and burns, like the film stock itself is trying to escape. Every shadow feels alive. Every prayer feels useless.
And then there’s that unforgettable moment when the entire asylum’s statues of the Virgin Mary start crying blood at once — a scene so perfectly grotesque that even the Pope would have to clutch his rosary and mutter, “We are so not writing a press release for this.”
The Performances: Priests, Prophets, and Pure Madness
Lalor Roddy absolutely owns the film as Father Thomas, the grumpy old priest who looks like he’s been exorcising his own faith for decades. He’s skeptical, sarcastic, and hilariously unimpressed by miracles. If you told him the Devil himself was in the next room, he’d probably roll his eyes and ask if the Devil could keep it down.
Ciarán Flynn’s Father John is his perfect foil — innocent, earnest, and slowly unraveling like a piece of communion bread left out in the rain. Their dynamic is the film’s beating heart. It’s part father-son, part Mulder-and-Scully, and entirely doomed.
Helena Bereen’s Mother Superior deserves her own sainthood in cinematic villainy. She radiates the kind of malevolent authority that makes you want to confess to crimes you haven’t committed. She’s not just running a convent — she’s running her own small, pious version of hell.
And Lauren Coe as Kathleen delivers a performance that’s both terrifying and tragic. She’s part victim, part oracle, part demonic midwife to the film’s climactic horror. You can’t tell whether to pity her or hide under your couch whenever she appears.
The Theology of Terror
What elevates The Devil’s Doorway above the usual found footage fright-fest is its intelligence. Beneath the jump scares and exorcism clichés, it’s a scathing commentary on faith, guilt, and the institutional rot festering beneath the Church’s halo.
It asks uncomfortable questions: What happens when belief becomes blind obedience? When “miracles” are just cover stories for cruelty? When priests investigate the devil but ignore the demons right in front of them?
Clarke doesn’t shy away from condemning the Church’s real-world sins — she just wraps them in a story about literal damnation. The result is part ghost story, part historical reckoning, and part revenge of the oppressed.
In a deliciously dark twist, the film’s final act suggests that the true evil isn’t what’s been summoned below the asylum — it’s what’s been sanctioned above it.
The Ending: Abandon Hope, Ye Who Enter Here
The climax is pure nightmare fuel: blood, betrayal, and a revelation that lands like a confession from hell itself. By the end, one priest is dead, the other damned, and the Mother Superior has officially won the “Most Likely to Be Possessed” award.
The final shot — a demonic lullaby echoing through the asylum as a baby cries — is both horrifying and morbidly poetic. It’s the kind of ending that makes you want to both applaud and schedule an emergency baptism.
Final Thoughts: A Low-Budget Miracle
The Devil’s Doorway isn’t just a good horror film — it’s a miracle of atmosphere, restraint, and righteous fury. It takes a shoestring budget, a few handheld cameras, and centuries of Catholic guilt, and turns them into one of the most unsettling found footage films in recent memory.
It’s bleak, it’s beautiful, and it’s funnier than it has any right to be (assuming your sense of humor is as black as a priest’s cassock).
If you’ve ever wanted to see the Vatican crossed with a haunted house and filmed by Werner Herzog’s depressed cousin, this is your holy grail.
Final Rating: ★★★★☆
(Four out of five bleeding Virgins — one for the scares, one for the subtext, one for the cinematography, and one for finally proving that God really does work in mysterious, horrifying ways.)
