The Vatican Tapes Review

There’s a lot of empty roving in The Vatican Tapes. In a film that could just have easily, and lazily, been found footage, director Mark Neveldine’s penchant for a consistent camera pulse is present. The film glides down halls, sweeps through a bus besieged by birds and chases its actors maniacally. Its intent is to work in tandem with Olivia Taylor Dudley’s menacing possession performance—something out of Beyond the Door or House of Exorcism rather than Regan MacNeil—to rise above its more rote characteristics. Unfortunately, a Catholic-based demonic possession movie is still just that and in 2015, it’s increasingly tough to separate from the pack.

It often seems like The Vatican Tapes will. That energy and exploitative mean streak of Exorcist rip-offs feels alive in Neveldine’s film. The path that writers Christopher C. Borrelli & Michael C. Martin lay out, from intimate horror to something with much larger, eviler aspirations is amusing, but one that feels hindered and at odds with its PG-13 goals, as well.

Dudley plays Angela, who gets a special gift on her birthday: the devil within her. From a surprise birthday party to the surprise she’ll lay on the world, The Vatican Tapes sticks close to Angela, watching her eyes shift and body shake. It moves from perceived medical illness, to perceived mental illness, to outright supernatural with real command from the performer. Dudley’s raw, constant screams are piercing, while the (now quaint) physical contortion requisite in the subgenre is at least accompanied by captivating physical prowess. In one scene, Angela guides a doomed policeman toward a window with a twisted, unsettling arm.

Just as swiftly as Dudley’s physical work makes an impression, the movie quickly pulls back. That policeman is persuaded by a raven to stick two lightbulbs in his eyes, but the choice to cut away on impact betrays the movie’s nasty bent. The Vatican Tapes often wants to be gnarlier than it is, and fails to support Angela’s wicked ascent with gore or the ensemble. The terrifically funny and charismatic Michael Peña does his best with a solemn priest, but there’s little personality to Dougray Scott and John Patrick Amedori’s father and boyfriend characters, respectively.

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The build and climactic exorcism is often a standard one. Not so standard, and ultimately frustrating, is the film’s finale. The Vatican Tapes makes what should be a mischievous, satanic choice, and then simply ends. Like earlier moments of terror, the movie becomes tremendously interesting and again, abruptly pulls away.