The Devil Made Me Watch It
There are bad horror movies, and then there’s The Exorcism of Anna Ecklund—a film so possessed by mediocrity that even Satan would’ve tapped out halfway through. This 2016 British “horror” flick, directed by Andrew Jones, tries to ride the coattails of The Exorcist the way a drunk pigeon tries to hitchhike on a speeding train. Spoiler: it doesn’t end well.
Clocking in at 76 minutes (which somehow feels like 666), this movie manages to turn a real-life case of demonic possession into something scarier for the audience than for the characters: pure, uncut boredom. It’s a cinematic séance where the only thing that gets resurrected is your regret.
The Plot (Or Lack Thereof)
If you’re expecting a fresh take on the classic exorcism narrative, think again. The Exorcism of Anna Ecklund plays like it was written by someone who once read the Wikipedia summary of The Exorcist and thought, “Yeah, I can do that—on a lunch break.”
The story follows Anna Ecklund (Tiffany Ceri), a woman who, after dabbling in some vague form of sinning, finds herself possessed by a demon. She’s taken to a remote house by a priest, Father Mendale (Lee Bane), and an older priest, Father Theo (Jeff Raggett), to perform—you guessed it—an exorcism. What follows is a series of long, repetitive scenes featuring mumbled prayers, cheap special effects, and acting so wooden you could build a crucifix out of it.
In between yawns, the priests mumble about faith, sin, and temptation while Anna writhes on a bed, occasionally cursing in a voice that sounds like a toddler trying to imitate James Earl Jones. The demon is apparently both omnipotent and easily bored—it spends most of its time taunting the priests with the enthusiasm of a disinterested barista.
And that’s… it. That’s the plot. There are no twists, no stakes, and definitely no scares. It’s like watching a church retreat filmed with the lighting budget of a cave.
Holy Snooze, Batman
To call this movie slow would be an insult to glaciers. Every scene drags on like it’s trapped in purgatory. The pacing makes Downton Abbey look like Mad Max: Fury Road.
Jones seems to think that long takes of people staring at walls will build suspense. Instead, it builds resentment. You keep waiting for something—anything—to happen. A flickering light. A jump scare. Maybe a demon doing jazz hands. But no. Just more sighing priests and close-ups of Anna’s sweaty forehead.
The movie tries to generate tension through atmosphere, but the atmosphere here is about as spooky as a humidifier. The cinematography bathes everything in an off-brand sepia filter, giving the film the visual appeal of a stale biscuit.
Even the exorcism itself—supposedly the climax of the film—feels like a PTA meeting with bad Latin chanting. Holy water is sprinkled, crosses are waved, and the audience prays for mercy, not from God, but from the runtime.
The Cast: Deliver Us from Overacting
Let’s talk about the performances, or as I like to call them, “dramatic readings from the school of visible confusion.”
Tiffany Ceri, as Anna, spends most of the movie either whispering in fear or snarling like she’s auditioning for a regional production of Cats. You can tell she’s trying, but the script gives her nothing to work with except the instruction: “Be possessed, but not too possessed—we can’t afford makeup.”
Lee Bane as Father Mendale delivers his lines like he’s reading cue cards from a distance. He’s supposed to be the brave, conflicted priest, but he looks like he’s wondering if he left the oven on. Jeff Raggett as Father Theo, the elder cleric, at least brings a touch of gravitas, but mostly he just sighs like a man who’s been in too many of these movies—and he has, because Andrew Jones keeps hiring the same actors like a haunted community theater troupe.
Budget of a Blessing
The production value is what truly seals The Exorcism of Anna Ecklund’s fate as an unholy mess. The film looks like it was shot on a camcorder that came free with a cereal box. The entire story takes place in one dimly lit house, which appears to be an Airbnb rented by the hour.
The “special effects” consist mainly of wind noises, flickering lights, and some very aggressive breathing. When Anna levitates, it’s filmed so stiffly that you can almost hear the crew whisper, “Don’t move the chair, she’ll fall.”
And the sound design? Imagine listening to Gregorian chants through a broken toaster. Every whispered prayer echoes like it was recorded inside a tin can, and the demon’s voice sounds like someone gargling alphabet soup.
The film’s box office take was reportedly $43,300—roughly enough to cover the catering for one day on a real exorcism movie. But hey, at least the devil got his cut.
The Script: By the Power of Cliché
Every line in The Exorcism of Anna Ecklund feels like it was copy-pasted from better films. You’ve heard it all before:
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“The power of Christ compels you!” (Again? Christ must be exhausted.)
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“She’s in pain!” (So are we.)
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“Faith will guide us.” (Faith won’t save this script, Father.)
There’s even a scene where the demon reveals “deep, dark secrets” about the priests’ pasts—because apparently, originality is the scariest thing of all. It’s like someone threw The Exorcist, The Rite, and The Last Exorcism into a blender and forgot to plug it in.
The dialogue alternates between melodramatic and monotonous. Half the time, the priests sound like they’re reading from a Latin dictionary. The other half, they’re just repeating each other’s names: “Father Mendale!” “Father Theo!” “Anna!” “Demon!”—it’s like a theological roll call.
Demons Deserve Better
What makes The Exorcism of Anna Ecklund truly tragic is that the real-life story it’s based on is genuinely fascinating. The actual Anna Ecklund case from the 1920s was filled with horrifying details—levitation, strange languages, and an extended possession that terrified an entire parish.
This movie, however, turns that terrifying story into a dull slog that could double as an insomnia cure. The real Anna Ecklund deserved better. Hell, even the fake one deserved better.
By the time the final exorcism scene arrives, the audience has already experienced their own possession—by fatigue. When the credits finally roll, it feels less like an ending and more like deliverance.
Final Thoughts: Exorcise This Film from Your Queue
In the end, The Exorcism of Anna Ecklund isn’t just a bad movie—it’s an exorcism of your patience, your expectations, and possibly your will to live. Andrew Jones clearly loves horror, but here he seems possessed by the spirit of low ambition.
The pacing is dead, the scares are comatose, and the dialogue sounds like it was written by a Ouija board that’s tired of your questions. The only truly chilling part is realizing this movie somehow got released in theaters, even if it made less money than a church bake sale.
So, if you’re thinking about watching The Exorcism of Anna Ecklund, do yourself a favor: knock twice on your remote, pray to Netflix, and let this one pass into cinematic hell where it belongs.
Grade: F (for “Father, Forgive Them, They Know Not What They Filmed”)
Recommended for: masochists, demonologists with low standards, and anyone who thought The Asylum’s The Exorcism of Emily Rose: Unauthorized Fan Cut sounded like high art.
