Holy Water, Cheap Wine, and Practical Effects
Horror cinema has always loved the Catholic Church. There’s just something inherently terrifying about collars, incense, and the constant threat that your confessional booth might be full of demons instead of sinners. The Unholy takes that love affair and runs with it, crafting a movie that is part Exorcist knockoff, part Hammer Horror, and part made-for-TV melodrama—all filtered through 1988’s love for latex prosthetics and shoulder pads.
And you know what? It actually kind of works. In between the awkward pacing, theological mumbo-jumbo, and random visits from Ned Beatty, The Unholy manages to find a strange rhythm of its own. It’s sleazy and earnest at the same time, which is exactly the kind of cocktail horror fans secretly crave.
Father Michael: Priest, Miracle Survivor, Reluctant Demon Slayer
Our hero is Father Michael (Ben Cross), who makes his first impression by surviving a fall from the top of a building. A man named Claude drags him out a window, they both go plummeting, and Michael walks away without so much as a broken collarbone. Clearly, God has plans for him—or at least the screenwriter did.
His reward for this miracle? A new assignment at St. Agnes, a New Orleans parish so cursed that priests there die faster than college kids at Crystal Lake. Two priests have already been torn up by the Unholy, a demon who specializes in seduction, dismemberment, and generally being a pain in the Vatican’s side. Naturally, Michael is next on the menu.
The Club Scene: Satan Likes Performance Art Too
Because this is 1988, the Devil’s hunting ground isn’t a graveyard or a haunted castle—it’s a black magic performance art nightclub. The Threshold is run by Luke (William Russ), who might be Satan, might be a con man, or might just be a guy who enjoys wearing too much eyeliner. His star waitress Millie (Jill Carroll) flips between femme fatale and frightened ingénue, which makes sense because half the time she’s being stalked by demons and the other half by Catholic guilt.
The club sequences are wonderfully dated, all fog machines and leather corsets, like an MTV video shot on a budget of $48.95. If Satan really is the patron of this establishment, then hell looks suspiciously like a goth prom.
Supporting Cast: Heavy Hitters in Clerical Collars
The movie’s secret weapon isn’t the demon—it’s the cast. Ned Beatty shows up as Lieutenant Stern, a cop who looks perpetually annoyed that demons aren’t covered in his police manual. Hal Holbrook plays the Archbishop, delivering exposition with the calm resignation of a man who has survived worse screenplays. And then there’s Trevor Howard, in his final role, as Father Silva: an elderly blind demonologist who tells Michael he’s been “chosen” with all the gravitas of Gandalf explaining Middle-earth.
It’s a stacked lineup of actors who treat this script like Shakespeare, and somehow, that sincerity gives the movie a charm it absolutely should not have.
The Demon: From Seductress to Latex Monstrosity
At first, the Unholy appears as a seductively beautiful woman in black lingerie. This is, of course, every priest’s nightmare—because in Catholic horror logic, lust is always the gateway to hell. When Father Michael refuses to be tempted, she transforms into her true form: a 10-foot animatronic monster that looks like the lovechild of the Alien Queen and a department store mannequin.
And let’s be clear: this monster rules. Yes, it’s clunky. Yes, it looks like it should collapse under its own latex. But when it’s on screen, you can’t look away. It’s a practical effect with weight and texture, something CGI could never replicate. Add in exploding stained glass windows and mutant sidekicks that crucify Michael, and the climax feels like a Catholic acid trip staged by Jim Henson’s evil twin.
Theology with a Body Count
What makes The Unholy more than just another B-horror flick is its attempt—however clumsy—to grapple with theology. This isn’t just a priest with a shotgun; Michael spends most of the movie debating whether evil is real or just psychological. His reluctance makes the final showdown more satisfying, because when he finally damns the Unholy to hell, it feels like a man embracing both his faith and his fate.
Of course, the film doesn’t always stick the landing. At times, it seems confused about whether the demon wants to seduce Michael, kill him, or invite him to a late-night showing of Rocky Horror. But in the end, Michael stands blind yet victorious, guided by faith. In a genre full of hollow jump scares, that’s surprisingly earnest.
Horror Highlights (and Unintentional Comedy)
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Claude’s Fiery Exit: A man bleeds from his eyes and spontaneously combusts in church. Forget confession—this is how you really make an impression on your priest.
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Millie’s Virginity Bargain: To avoid being targeted by the demon, Millie offers to lose her virginity to Father Michael. His horrified rejection is the only realistic acting choice in the entire film.
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Ned Beatty’s Cop Routine: Beatty looks like he’d rather be anywhere else, but somehow his irritation makes his scenes funnier. “Demons? Great. Just what my precinct needed.”
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The Weeping Statue: The Immaculate Heart of Mary statue cries blood at the finale, because in 1988 horror, subtlety was for cowards.
Why It Works (Even When It Shouldn’t)
For all its flaws—and there are many—The Unholy has something rare: atmosphere. The New Orleans setting drips with Catholic Gothic energy. The performances are sincere enough to anchor the silliness. And the practical effects, however rubbery, are ambitious and unforgettable.
Unlike many late-’80s horror films that drowned in irony, The Unholy leans into its premise without flinching. It believes in its demon. It believes in its priest. And against all odds, that conviction rubs off on the audience.
Final Judgment
The Unholy is not high art. It’s not even top-tier horror. But it’s a fascinating, flawed gem: part serious theological drama, part monster movie, part erotic thriller. It has the audacity to put Ben Cross in a collar, Hal Holbrook in a mitre, and a giant latex demon in a church, and ask us to take it seriously.
And somehow, we do.
It’s sleazy and holy, goofy and grim, cheap and ambitious. In other words, it’s the perfect late-night watch for horror fans who like their scares with a side of dark humor and sacrilege.
