The seismic impact of William Friedkin’s The Exorcist defined the horror genre, turning exorcism into a spectacle of religious warfare. But beyond this canonical masterpiece, the theme has found new life, becoming a diagnostic tool for society’s anxieties.
These films use the violation of body and soul not to explore the conflict between Heaven and Hell, but to dissect the human psyche. Possession becomes the physical manifestation of generational trauma, the symptom of a crisis of faith in a secularized world, the psychological collapse in the face of unbearable pain. Art-horror” cinema has revitalized the subgenre, shifting the focus from the external demon to the demons we cultivate within ourselves.
This guide is a path that unites the fundamental pillars, from the most celebrated films to the most daring independent productions. From the “Satanic Panic” paranoia of the ’80s to the crisis of faith in institutions captured by found footage, to the current wave of “elevated horror” that frames possession as an inherited sickness of the soul. Here is a selection of works that do not just aim to scare, but dare to question.
What is exorcism?
Exorcism is the spiritual practice of banishing satanic forces, jinn, or other spiritual entities from a person or place believed to be possessed. Depending on the exorcist’s spiritual beliefs, this may be accomplished by compelling the entity to swear an oath, performing rituals, or simply ordering it to leave in the name of a higher power. The practice is ancient and is part of the belief systems of many cultures and religions.
The practice of listening to or reciting the Paritta began very early in the history of Buddhism. It is a Buddhist practice of reciting specific verses from the Pali canon to repel demons. In Sri Lanka, Sinhalese Buddhists invoke the Buddha along with the divine being Suniyam to manage and combat evil forces. supernaturalevil spirits in a ritual called yakto. The ritual on Ghost Exorcist Day becomes part of Tibetan custom. Temples and abbeys throughout Tibet organize large spiritual dance events, the largest at the Potala Palace in Lhasa. Families clean their homes and consume a noodle soup called “guthuk.” At night, individuals carry torches, shouting the words of exorcism.
Prayer in Christian exorcism
In Christian practice, the individual performing the exorcism, known as an exorcist, is typically a member of the Christian Church. The exorcist may use prayers and spiritual methods, gestures, signs, icons, amulets, and so on. The exorcist typically invokes God, Jesus, or various angels and archangels to intervene in the exorcism. Protestant Christian exorcists most often believe that the authority granted to them by the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit (the Trinity) is the sole source of their ability to cast out devils. Possessed individuals are not considered evil in themselves, nor responsible for their actions, as they are believed to be under the power of a satanic force that causes harm to themselves and others.
Exorcists consider exorcism a remedy, not a punishment. Traditional rites take this into account, ensuring there is no violence against the possessed. There are biblical verses, such as John 13:27, that implicitly communicate that demonic possession can be voluntary, as demonstrated in people like Judas Iscariot, who voluntarily sold himself to the Devil. Exorcism began to decline in the United States in the 18th century and was almost completely eliminated until the second half of the 20th century, when the general public saw a sharp increase due to the prominence exorcisms were gaining. There was a 50% increase in the variety of exorcisms performed between the early 1960s and the mid-1970s.
Catholic exorcism
In Catholicism, exorcisms are performed in the name of Jesus Christ. A comparable practice is the ministry of deliverance. The difference between the ministry of deliverance and exorcism is that exorcism is performed by priests who have received sole approval from the Catholic Church, while the ministry of deliverance is a prayer for people who are distressed and wish to heal psychological wounds caused by demons.
In Catholic practice, the individual who performs the exorcism, called an exorcist, is a specially appointed priest. The exorcist recites prayers according to the rite and may use spiritual objects, icons, and sacramentals. The exorcist invokes God, specifically the Name of Jesus Christ, along with members of the Church Triumphant and the Archangel Michael to intervene in the exorcism. According to Catholic tradition, a certain number of weekly exorcisms over several years are often necessary to expel a deeply rooted satanic force. The Prayer of St. Michael against Satan and the Rebel Angels, attributed to Pope Leo XIII, is considered the Catholic Church’s greatest prayer against cases of demonic possession. The Holy Rosary also has intercessory and exorcising power.
The best independent exorcism horror films to watch
Part I: The New Canon – Trauma and Faith in the Modern Age
This section analyzes a new wave of critically acclaimed independent films, largely associated with the “elevated horror” movement. The central argument is that these films utilize possession not as a random supernatural event, but as the terrifying, literal manifestation of inherited trauma, psychological breakdown, and the dangerous extremities of faith.
Hereditary (2018)
After the death of their secretive matriarch, the Graham family begins to unravel cryptic and increasingly terrifying secrets about their lineage. Their grief quickly turns into an insurmountable nightmare when they discover they are pawns in a plot orchestrated by a demonic cult to summon a powerful demon named Paimon.
HereditaryAri Aster’s “The Grahams” is the quintessential example of possession as generational trauma. The film transcends simple cult narrative to dissect how the demon Paimon doesn’t just attack the Graham family, but exploits their pre-existing dysfunction, pain, and history of mental illness. The title itself is a chilling double entendre: evil isn’t just a spiritual legacy, but is woven into the family’s psychological DNA, an inherited disorder as much as a curse. Peter’s final possession isn’t a random act of evil, but the tragic, predetermined culmination of a family fate, where unprocessed trauma becomes a portal to hell.
The film’s true horror lies in the failure of communication. The Grahams are “strangely distant from each other, mostly occupying different rooms of the house,” unable to articulate their pain. In this void of words, the demon finds its voice. The cult offers Annie a perverse form of therapy and connection that her own family denies her. The possession, therefore, is not merely the result of an occult ritual, but the direct consequence of a family silence. The demon speaks when the family is unwilling or no longer able to, transforming a supernatural tragedy into a profoundly human drama about our inability to connect.
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The Witch (2015)
In 1630s New England, a devout Puritan family is banished from their community and settles on the edge of a sinister forest. When their infant son mysteriously disappears, paranoia and suspicion begin to erode their bonds, leading them to believe that an evil force lurks in the woods and, perhaps, among them.
Robert Eggers‘ folk horror masterpiece,The Witch, stages an exorcism in reverse. Instead of expelling a demon, the film meticulously documents the process by which a repressive and paranoid faith pushes a young woman, Thomasin, directly into the devil’s arms. The family’s extreme religious devotion turns into a poison, leading them to interpret every misfortune—the failed harvest, the possession of young Caleb—as a sign of sin and satanic influence, leading to their own downfall.
The film explores the fear of female autonomy. Thomasin’s nascent femininity makes her an ideal scapegoat in a patriarchal society that fears female power. Her final choice to “live deliciously” isn’t a simple corruption, but an act of liberation from an oppressive system that had already condemned her. Eggers intentionally maintains an ambiguous tension: is the witch real or a projection of collective hysteria? The film’s genius lies in forcing the viewer to adopt the Puritan mentality, according to which the witchhe mustexist, because their worldview admits no other explanation. The horror lies not in the existence of evil, but in the fact that their very faith creates a reality in which evil is the only possible answer, turning their piety into a self-fulfilling prophecy of damnation.
Saint Maud (2019)
Maud, a deeply devout nurse and recent convert to Catholicism, becomes convinced she has a divine mission: to save the soul of her terminally ill patient, Amanda, a hedonistic former dancer. Her faith soon turns into a dangerous obsession, as her experiences of religious ecstasy merge with a terrifying psychological breakdown.
Saint Maudexplores the disturbing ambiguity between religious ecstasy and psychological collapse fueled by trauma, guilt, and loneliness. Here, the possession is not demonic, but divine—or so the protagonist believes. This “God-possession” proves as terrifying as any demon. Maud’s zealous faith is a defense mechanism against past trauma and profound loneliness; her mission to “save” Amanda is a desperate attempt to find meaning in her life and achieve redemption.
Rose Glass’s film deconstructs the trope of exorcism. The “possessing” force is apparently God. The “exorcist” is Maud herself, a woman who tries toinviteThis presence, not to banish it. The “victim” is Amanda, who wants nothing to do with it. Glass demonstrates that the desire for spiritual purity, when distorted by trauma and isolation, can be as destructive and violent as any demonic entity. The horror arises not from the loss of faith, but from its terrifying and absolute embrace, culminating in a final image that brutally clarifies the gap between Maud’s perception and the harsh reality.
The Blackcoat’s Daughter (2015)
Two students, Kat and Rose, are left alone at their Catholic boarding school during winter break. As an unseen, evil force seems to tighten its grip on the deserted school, a third young woman, Joan, escapes from a psychiatric institution and heads inexorably towards them.
Osgood Perkins’s film is a chilling meditation on loneliness as a portal to demonic influence. The narrative, which unfolds across two timelines, reveals that the mysterious Joan is actually an older version of Kat, the possessed student. Kat’s total isolation makes her vulnerable to the demonic presence, which becomes the only entity that “speaks” to her. Her possession is not an attack, but a twisted form of connection born from absolute solitude.
The exorcism she undergoes isn’t a salvation, but a tragic loss. Kat begs for the presence to remain, because being possessed was better than being alone. Her subsequent journey as “Joan” is a desperate attempt to reconnect. The Catholic boarding school setting is no accident: it’s an institution meant to provide guidance and care, yet it utterly fails, offering only an oppressive and cold environment. The demon fills the void left by this institutional and emotional neglect. The film’s horror is a critique of institutions that demand mercy but fail to provide genuine human connection, leaving their wards vulnerable to far darker influences.
Part II: Deconstructing the Rite – Found Footage and Unshakeable Faiths
This section examines how the found footage subgenre has radically altered the narrative of exorcism. The central argument is that the format’s “realism” shifts the conflict from a simple battle between good and evil to a more modern crisis of faith against empirical evidence. The camera itself becomes a skeptical observer, forcing the audience to question what is real.
The Last Exorcism (2010)
Reverend Cotton Marcus, a charismatic evangelical preacher who has lost his faith, decides to participate in one last exorcism for a documentary, intent on exposing the practice as a fraud. When he arrives at a remote Louisiana farm to “cure” a young girl named Nell, he encounters an evil so pure and terrifying that it shakes the foundations of his skepticism.
The Last Exorcismuses found footage to deconstruct faith. Cotton Marcus is a charlatan with a conscience, using magic tricks to “heal” the faithful. The camera is there to document his denunciation. The film brilliantly plays with ambiguity: is Nell truly possessed, or is she the victim of abuse and religious hysteria? The camera’s lens forces us to share Cotton’s skepticism, making his crisis of faith tangible.
The final twist—the evil is real, but tied to a satanic cult—forces Cotton (and the viewer) to reevaluate everything. His journey from cynical con man to a man of true faith, capable of self-sacrifice, is empowered by the “realism” of the format. In traditional exorcism films, faith is the weapon. Here, Cotton’s initial power comes from hislackof faith, from his rational understanding of psychology. The camera is his instrument of rationalism. In a modern world, true faith can only be born from the destruction of skepticism. Cotton must see the inexplicableon the filmto believe, transforming the narrative into a modern parable: faith is no longer a given, but something that must be earned through the crucible of irrefutable and recorded evidence.
REC 2 (2009)
Minutes after the end of the first film, a SWAT team and a mysterious Ministry of Health official enter the quarantined Barcelona building. Equipped with cameras, they quickly discover that the terrifying “infection” transforming people into rabid monsters isn’t a virus, but has a much older, more diabolical origin.
REC 2brilliantly blends the zombie genre with the possession genre. The found footage format, now fragmented between the cameras on the SWAT helmets and those of a group of teenagers, amplifies the chaos and claustrophobia. The narrative shift from a scientific virus to a supernatural plague, rooted in Vatican experiments, is a key twist. The possessed aren’t just mindless monsters; they’re intelligent, cunning, and driven by a single, demonic will.
The film updates the concept of possession for a viral and interconnected age. The demon is transmitted through saliva, like a disease, but it is a disease of the soul. The found footage format, with its sense of immediacy and panic, perfectly captures the feeling of a spiritual epidemic. Evil is no longer confined to a single body; it is a plague that can infect an entire population, and the camera is there to document the terrifying speed of its transmission.
The Atticus Institute (2015)
Presented as a mockumentary, the film tells the story of the Atticus Institute, a parapsychological research center in the 1970s. Researchers document the case of Judith Winstead, a woman with extraordinary telekinetic abilities, discovering that her powers stem from demonic possession. The U.S. government intervenes, attempting to weaponize the demonic force.
The Atticus Instituteuniquely blends parapsychology, demonic possession, and elements of a Cold War political thriller. The mockumentary format, featuring retrospective interviews and archival footage, lends a frightening authenticity to the narrative. The film presents a world where the primary response to a demon comes not from the Church, but from the government and the military. The conflict is not between faith and evil, but between science, state power, and an uncontrollable force.
The attempt to “militarize” the demon is a secular, bureaucratic exorcism: an attempt to control and contain the entity for strategic purposes. The film is a chilling commentary on institutional arrogance. It suggests that modern, secular institutions, in their presumption, believe they can manage and exploit forces they cannot comprehend. The true horror is not the demon itself, but the government’s cold, clinical, and ultimately futile attempt to transform absolute evil into an instrument of the state.
The Devil’s Doorway (2018)
In the fall of 1960, the Vatican sent two priests, Father Thomas Riley and Father John Thornton, to investigate a supposed miracle at an Irish “Magdalene Laundry,” a home for “fallen women.” Armed with a 16mm camera, they uncovered not only the nuns’ cruel treatment of the women, but also actual demonic possession.
This found footage, shot on 16mm to evoke the era, uses a real historical horror—the Magdalene laundries—as its backdrop. The demonic presence in the film is not an external invader, but a direct consequence of the human evil perpetrated within those walls. The systematic cruelty, abuse, and hypocrisy of the religious institution are the “sins” that evoke the demon. The possession of the young pregnant woman is the supernatural manifestation of the real horrors she has endured.
The film performs a kind of exorcism on history itself. It suggests that the “demons” we fight are often those we create through our own cruelty. By staging this drama, the narrative implies that true evil is not supernatural, but human, and that the most terrifying acts of possession are those that men commit against one another in the name of faith.
Mud: The Curse (2005)
The film presents itself as the final, unfinished documentary by Masafumi Kobayashi, an acclaimed paranormal journalist who disappeared under mysterious circumstances. The film assembles a series of seemingly unrelated events—strange noises, a psychic child, an obsessive woman—that slowly converge toward the terrifying truth about an ancient demon called Kagutaba.
MudIt’s a masterpiece of slow-burning mockumentary horror, whose effectiveness lies in a complex, sprawling narrative that feels frighteningly real. Unlike Western exorcism films, which focus on physical confrontation,MudIt treats the demonic presence as a mystery to be solved. The horror is epistemological: it resides in the gathering and linking of information. The mockumentary format is essential, as the film itself is the bulletin board of evidence.
The film redefines possession horror as an act of investigation. The terror lies not in what the demonbut, but in whatAndand how its influence spreads through a hidden web of curses and forgotten rituals.Mudsuggests that the most terrifying evil is not the one that confronts you directly, but the one you can only understand when it’s too late, piecing together the clues it’s left behind.
Part III: Beyond the Vatican – Global Possession and Folk Horror
This section explores independent films that separate possession from its traditional Judeo-Christian framework. The central argument is that these films enrich the subgenre by exploring diverse cultural beliefs—from Korean shamanism to Latin American brujeria—presenting possession as a phenomenon rooted in folk traditions, ancestral curses, and local anxieties.
The Wailing (2016)
In a quiet rural village in South Korea, a mysterious disease begins to spread shortly after the arrival of a Japanese stranger. A local policeman, Jong-goo, is drawn into a nightmarish investigation when his daughter begins exhibiting the same symptoms, forcing him to confront shamans, demons, and his own wavering faith.
The WailingIt’s an epic that masterfully blends genres, creating a world of profound moral ambiguity where the protagonist is trapped between conflicting forces. In exorcism films, choosing a side—believing in God—is the path to salvation.The Wailingpresents a more terrifying alternative: every choice is the wrong one. Jong-goo’s faith, or lack thereof, is constantly tested, and every decision he makes, based on the advice of spiritual figures, leads him deeper into the trap.
In a world saturated with conflicting beliefs (shamanism, Christianity, folklore), faith itself becomes a weapon used against the believer. The horror lies not in choosing good over evil, but in the paralyzing awareness of being unable to distinguish the difference. The very attempt to fight the darkness may be the very thing that lets it in.
The Medium (2021)
A documentary film crew travels to a rural Thai village to film the life of Nim, a shaman who serves as a medium for the local deity Bayan. The filming takes a terrifying turn when her granddaughter, Mink, begins showing signs of possession by a far more malevolent and chaotic entity.
This Thai-South Korean co-production uses found footage to immerse the viewer in the world of Isan shamanism. The film explores themes of inherited spiritual roles, ancestral curses, and gender power dynamics. Possession is not a single event, but a complex affair involving multiple spirits and a cursed bloodline.
The film deals with the terror of spiritual entropy. When sacred traditions are abandoned and boundaries are broken (symbolized by the decapitated statue of Bayan), the result is not freedom, but an invasion of chaos into which any spirit can enter. The horror is the loss of a coherent spiritual world, replaced by a terrifying supernatural anarchy.
When Evil Lurks (2023)
In a remote rural Argentine town, two brothers discover that a “rotten”—a human possessed by an unborn demon—is about to unleash an ancient evil. Ignoring warnings and the rules for dealing with evil, they accidentally trigger a possession epidemic that spreads like an unstoppable plague, forcing them into a desperate flight.
This film repositions possession as a highly contagious disease, a physical and spiritual plague. The Church is absent (“churches are dead”), replaced by a failing state apparatus of “cleaners” supposedly managing the problem. The film suggests a world where evil has won not through a great battle, but through sheer persistence and bureaucratic incompetence.
The horror isn’t just the contagion itself, but the social breakdown and apathy that allow it to thrive. It’s a world where exorcism is no longer a sacred rite, but a delayed and underfunded public service. This bureaucratization of evil, where the answer to a cosmic entity is a form to fill out, is perhaps the most terrifying concept of all.
The Old Ways (2020)
Cristina, a journalist of Mexican origin, returns to her homeland of Veracruz to report on local witchcraft. She is kidnapped by a group of locals, including a “bruja” (witch), who insist she is possessed by a demon and must undergo an ancient exorcism ritual to be purified.
The film explores thewitchcraftand shamanism, offering a distinctly Latin American perspective on exorcism. Cristina isn’t just physically possessed by a demon; she’s metaphorically “possessed” by a modern, cynical worldview that has disconnected her from her roots. The exorcism ritual, the “old ways,” serves a dual purpose.
It is a literal attempt to expel the demon, but it is also a forced immersion in the culture and belief system she had rejected. Her final acceptance of the methods ofwitchIt represents a healing of her cultural and spiritual identity. The film frames the exorcism not as a punishment, but as a path to reclaiming a lost legacy. To be saved from the demon, Cristina must first save herself from her own cultural alienation.
Attachment (2022)
Maja, a former Danish actress, and Leah, a London academic, fall madly in love. When Leah has a seizure and breaks her leg, Maja accompanies her to London’s Orthodox Jewish neighborhood where Leah lives with her overprotective and mysterious mother, Chana. Maja begins to suspect that something sinister is lurking in the family.
This film wraps a story of possession in a queer love story, immersing it in Jewish folklore, specifically the myth of the Dybbuk. The title,Attachment, is a direct reference to the meaning of “Dybbuk”, but it works on multiple levels: romantic attachment, familial attachment, and supernatural attachment.
The film’s brilliant twist reveals that the “possession” isn’t a malicious attack, but a desperate and misguided act of love and protection on the mother’s part. The film redefines possession not as an act of hate, but as a terrifying manifestation of a love gone obsessive and pathological. The exorcism required isn’t to banish a demon, but to untangle the toxic and loving bonds that are suffocating the characters.
Part IV: The Mind as a Haunted House – Arthouse and Psychological Frontiers
This section delves into challenging, often surreal, arthouse films in which the line between demonic possession and psychological breakdown is deliberately blurred or erased altogether. The central argument is that these films use the structure of possession to conduct a profound and disturbing exploration of the human interior landscape: marital decay, mental illness, grief, and trauma.
Possession (1981)
A secret agent, Mark, returns home to divided West Berlin only to discover that his wife, Anna, is seeking a divorce. Her behavior becomes increasingly unstable and violent, dragging Mark into a surreal nightmare of betrayal, murder, and a grotesque tentacled creature that Anna hides in an abandoned apartment.
Andrzej Żuławski’s masterpiece is a visceral allegory of the psychological horror of a collapsing marriage. The title itself is a masterstroke of ambiguity. On one level, it refers to demonic possession. On another, to Mark’s possessiveness of Anna. On a third, to the political state of Berlin. The film constantly plays with these meanings. Anna’s “possession” by the creature is her escape from Mark’s marital “possession.”
Żuławski externalizes the internal chaos of divorce through surrealism and body horror. The infamous subway scene is a “convulsion of the soul,” a raw, physical manifestation of emotional agony. The creature Anna nurtures is the literal embodiment of her pain, anger, and desire. The film poses a radical question: what is the difference between being possessed by a demon and being possessed by another person in a toxic relationship? The chilling answer is that there is neither, and both lead to the same monstrous and violent end.
Possum (2018)
Philip, a disgraced children’s puppeteer, returns to his crumbling childhood home. He is haunted by a hideous spider-legged, human-faced puppet called the Possum, which he desperately tries to destroy, but fails. This forces him to confront a dark trauma and a secret buried in his past, tied to his sinister uncle Maurice.
This film is a profound exploration of childhood trauma as a form of psychological possession. The puppet, Possum, is not a supernatural entity but a physical container of the protagonist’s suffering and repressed memories. Philip’s repeated, failed attempts to free himself from the puppet symbolize the inescapable nature of deep-seated trauma. The film’s grimy, decadent aesthetic mirrors Philip’s internal state.
The film stages a two-part exorcism. First, Philip must confront and destroy the externalized symbol of his trauma (the puppet’s body). But this isn’t enough. The second, true exorcism is to confront and destroy the source of the trauma (his uncle Maurice). The fact that the puppet’s head remains at the end signifies that the trauma can never be completely erased; it becomes part of you. Exorcism isn’t about becoming pure, but about learning to live with the scars.
Light (2018)
Luz, a young Chilean taxi driver, enters a police station in a state of confusion. A psychotherapist is called in to question her under hypnosis, making her relive the events of the previous hours. But a demonic force, haunting her since her Catholic school days, uses the session to transfer from one body to another and reach her.
Shot in 16mm with an aesthetic that evokes 1970s European horror,LightIt’s a minimalist, dreamlike experience. The demon in this film doesn’t just possess bodies; it possesses the narrative itself. It moves from one character to another through the telling of a story. The hypnosis session is an attempt to control the narrative of the past, but the demon hijacks this process, using the recollection to possess the doctor and finally reach Luz.
The film portrays possession as a memetic virus that spreads through narration. The act of recounting a traumatic or supernatural event is what allows the entity to travel. The horror lies not only in being possessed, but in the realization that language and memory are the true conduits for the demonic.
A Dark Song (2016)
Sophia, a woman consumed by grief over the loss of her son, rents a secluded house and hires an occultist, Joseph Solomon, to guide her through a grueling, months-long ritual. Her goal is to summon her guardian angel so she can speak to her son again, but her true purpose is much darker: revenge.
This film is a rare representation of occult ritualism treated with an almost mechanical, procedural realism. The horror stems not from a sudden demonic attack, but from the psychological and physical toll of the lengthy ritual itself. The entire narrative is a metaphor for the grieving process. Sophia’s journey through the ritual mirrors the stages of grief, and her true, hidden motive—revenge—is the emotional block she must overcome.
An exorcism consists of driving something out. The Abramelin ritual inA Dark SongIt involves inviting something—a guardian angel. It’s a form of “reverse exorcism.” The film uses the structure of an occult conjuration to argue that true healing (the “exorcism” of pain and anger) comes not from expelling a foreign entity, but from a painful and dangerous inner journey to summon one’s own “better angel”: the capacity to forgive.
Part V: Satanic Panic and Cult Classics Revisited
This section revisits films that draw directly from the “Satanic Panic” of the 1970s and 1980s or that have become cult classics. The argument is that these films, often dismissed at the time, offer a fascinating window into cultural anxieties and demonstrate how independent and international filmmakers were pushing the boundaries of the possession genre with transgressive, stylistic, and often bizarre results.
The House of the Devil (2009)
At the height of the “Satanic Panic” of the 1980s, a cash-strapped college student, Samantha, takes a seemingly simple but well-paid babysitting job in a secluded villa. The night, which coincides with a lunar eclipse, turns into a fight for survival when she discovers that her employers are members of a satanic cult and she is the chosen one for their ritual.
Ti West’s film is a masterful homage to 1980s horror, meticulously recreating the era’s aesthetic, from the grain of 16mm film to the hairstyles. But this isn’t simple nostalgia; it’s a narrative strategy. By perfectly replicating the form of a film from that era, West lulls viewers familiar with the genre into a state of comfort.
We recognize the clichés: the final girl, the creepy house, the slow build of tension. West uses this nostalgic comfort as a weapon. Just when we think we know the rules, the brutal and nihilistic third act pulls the rug out from under us. The homage is a trap, designed to make the final horror even more shocking, subverting the very genre conventions it so lovingly recreates.
The Devils (1971)
In 17th-century France, Father Urbain Grandier, a charismatic and controversial priest, becomes a political target for Cardinal Richelieu. To destroy him, his enemies exploit the sexual and religious hysteria of a hunchbacked and repressed nun, Sister Jeanne, who accuses him of demonic possession, unleashing an orgy of public torture, mass exorcisms, and violence.
Ken Russell’s controversial and censored masterpiece is a scathing satire on the intersection of political power, religious fervor, and sexual repression. The nuns’ “possession” is not a supernatural event, but a violent eruption of mass hysteria born from their claustrophobic and repressed lives. The accusations provide them with a socially acceptable outlet for their suppressed sexual desires.
Based on true historical events, the film makes a radical claim: the ritual of exorcism can be used as a weapon by the state. It is the ultimate tool for silencing dissent, where political opposition is recast as demonic influence and torture is rebranded as spiritual purification. The film reveals the terrifying closeness between the sacred and the profane, showing how easily religious rites can be perverted into instruments of brutal state control.
Alucarda (1977)
After the death of her parents, young Justine arrives at a secluded convent, where she forms an intense and immediate bond with another orphan, Alucarda. Their friendship leads them to a satanic pact in a hidden crypt, unleashing a wave of demonic possession, vampirism, blasphemous orgies, and unstoppable violence that threatens to consume the entire convent.
Alucardais a masterpiece of surreal and transgressive horror, blending themes of nunsploitation with those of satanic panic. Director Juan López Moctezuma uses a hyper-stylized, almost painterly aesthetic to film “evil” acts. Possession is framed as a form of liberation from the repressive, prison-like convent. The Devil offers a world of color, sensuality, and freedom that contrasts sharply with the gray, dirty world of the nuns.
The film uses blasphemy as a form of aesthetic and thematic rebellion. It argues that in a world of total repression, the only path to freedom and beauty is through the profane. Demonic possession is an explosion of ecstatic, violent, and ultimately tragic life, in the face of a deadly and sterile faith.
Demons (1985)
A diverse group of people receive free tickets to the premiere of a mysterious horror film at a major Berlin cinema, the Metropol. As a story of prophecies and demons unfolds on screen, a female audience member scratches herself on a prop displayed in the lobby. She soon transforms into a bloodthirsty demon, and the infection spreads among the trapped audience.
This Italian cult classic, produced by Dario Argento, is a wild, energetic, and gloriously over-the-top meta-narrative about horror cinema itself. The film’s central conceit—where onscreen violence literally spills over into the audience—is a perfect metaphor for the contagious nature of horror. One character explicitly declares, “It’s this cinema that kills.”
The Metropol Cinema is a temple where the audience gathers for a ritual: watching a horror film. The film-within-a-film acts as a spell, and a prop is the cursed relic that unleashes the plague.Demonsportrays the act of watching horror as a dangerous and transformative ritual. The screen isn’t a window but a portal, and viewers aren’t passive observers but willing participants in a ceremony that can unleash real demons.
To the Devil a Daughter (1976)
An American occultist, John Verney, is contacted by a man fearful for his daughter, Catherine, a young nun raised in a schismatic convent in Bavaria. Catherine has been promised since birth to a satanic cult led by an excommunicated priest, Father Michael Rayner, who intends to use her as a human avatar for the demon Astaroth on her eighteenth birthday.
This film represents Hammer Horror’s attempt to adapt to the post–The Exorcist, abandoning Gothic castles for a contemporary London setting and embracing more explicit nudity and gore. The film’s central horror isn’t just that Catherine is possessed, but that her fate was sealed before she was born. Her father made a pact with a satanic priest to offer his daughter up for the cult.
This is a literalization of the themes seen metaphorically inHereditary“Possession” is an inheritance, a generational debt that has come due. The film explores the terrifying idea that the sins of the father not only affect the children, but can condemn them entirely. Catherine’s struggle is not only against a demon, but against her own predetermined fate, a horror rooted in the inescapable consequences of a previous generation’s choices.
Part VI: Conceptual Turns – Modern Satires and Inversions
This final section focuses on contemporary independent films that subvert, satirize, or invert the traditional narrative of exorcism. The central argument is that these films demonstrate the subgenre’s enduring flexibility, using possession to comment on modern phenomena such as social media culture, addiction, and the crisis of faith in a secular world.
Talk to Me (2022)
A group of friends discover how to summon spirits using a stuffed hand. They become addicted to the thrill of temporary possession, until one of them goes too far and unleashes terrifying supernatural forces. Young Mia, still grieving her mother’s death, clings to this connection to the afterlife, with devastating consequences.
Talk to Meuses a brilliant central metaphor: possession as a form of recreational drug use and addiction. The rules (90-second time limit), euphoria, peer pressure, and disastrous “overdose” directly align with substance abuse. Mia’s grief over her mother’s death makes her particularly vulnerable, using her hand not just for thrills, but as a desperate means of escape and connection.
The film depicts a world where the supernatural has been completely commodified. The soul and its potential violation are no longer matters of faith and terror, but have been reduced to a commodity, a thrill to be consumed, recorded, and discarded. The horror lies not only in the spirits themselves, but in the casual and almost nihilistic way the characters treat the portal to the spirit world, reflecting a culture that seeks to transform every experience into shareable content.
The Cleansing Hour (2019)
Max and Drew run a popular webcast showcasing “live exorcisms,” which are actually elaborately staged. Their fortunes change when, during a live broadcast, Drew’s girlfriend is mysteriously possessed by a real demon who takes the crew hostage. In front of a rapidly growing global audience, the demon subjects them to a series of humiliating challenges.
This film is a direct satire of influencer culture and live streaming. The fake priest “Father Max” is the ultimate influencer, complete with merchandise and a carefully constructed persona. Horror and comedy arise from the collision of this fake, commercialized version of exorcism with a genuine, malevolent entity.
The demon uses the logic of livestreaming against its creators, demanding confessions and revealing secrets to keep viewership high. In this way, it acts as a twisted and violent form of content moderator or a “cancel culture” warrior. It hijacks the platform to impose a brutal form of authenticity, suggesting that in a world saturated with false online identities, perhaps only a literal demon is capable of compelling people to be honest.
Anything for Jackson (2020)
Audrey and Henry Walsh are an elderly Satanist couple who, devastated by the death of their grandson Jackson, kidnap a pregnant woman. Their plan is to perform a “reverse exorcism” to transfer Jackson’s soul into her unborn child. The ritual, however, goes horribly awry, and instead of summoning only Jackson, they open the door to a host of other tormented spirits.
The film subverts the genre with its clever “reverse exorcism” premise. Its strength lies in its portrayal of the elderly Satanists, not as stereotypical villains, but as a loving and compassionate couple driven to monstrous acts by profound grief. This creates a complex emotional core.
The film tames Satanism to make a powerful statement about grief. It suggests that grief is such an all-encompassing force that it can make even the most horrific and cosmic acts—like making a pact with the devil—seem reasonable, like a practical solution to a personal problem. Horror and comedy arise from the clash between their mundane, domestic reality and the cosmic evil they seek to control.
The Exorcism of God (2021)
Father Peter Williams, an American exorcist working in Mexico, is haunted by the memory of an exorcism gone wrong eighteen years earlier, during which he was briefly possessed and forced to commit a terrible sin. When the demon returns, possessing a young woman in a local prison, Father Peter must confront his past, his guilt, and an evil that threatens to consume his soul.
This film modernizes the concept of spiritual warfare by rooting it in psychological guilt. In the classic narrative, the priest is a pure conduit for God’s power. Here, Father Peter’s power is compromised by the sin he committed. The demon uses this past sin as leverage, a permanent chink in his spiritual armor.
The demon’s greatest weapon is not supernatural power, but the priest’s own memory and shame. It suggests that an exorcist cannot fight a demon in others until he has exorcised the sin from himself, making the battle as much internal and psychological as it is external and spiritual.
Godless: The Eastfield Exorcism (2023)
Lara, a woman struggling with a diagnosed mental illness, is pressured by her devoted and domineering husband to stop medical treatment. Convinced that she is possessed, he entrusts her to a fanatical and unscrupulous exorcist who performs a brutal ritual unsanctioned by the Church. What should be a spiritual cleansing turns into a descent into torture and abuse of faith.
Inspired by true events, this Australian film takes a raw and realistic approach, focusing on man-made horror. The narrative deliberately suggests that Lara suffers from paranoid schizophrenia; the “possession” is a misinterpretation of her symptoms by religious fanatics. The real demons here are metaphorical: fundamentalism, medical ignorance, and patriarchal control.
GodlessIt completes the secularization of the exorcism narrative. It strips the story of all supernatural ambiguity and presents the ritual itself as a form of deadly medical malpractice based on faith. The horror isn’t that a demon can kill you, but that the very people who claim to save your soul will kill you with their faith.
Beyond the Rite: A Conclusion
A journey through independent exorcism horror films reveals one of the most vibrant and adaptable subgenres of contemporary cinema. These films have transcended the spectacle of spinning heads and pea-green vomit to become mirrors of our deepest fears. They have transformed possession into a powerful metaphor for trauma, addiction, and political oppression.
Through the skeptical lens of found footage, they deconstructed faith, while expanding their horizons across diverse cultural landscapes, demonstrating that the battle for the soul is a universal conflict. Ultimately, these films force us to look beyond the supernatural and confront the terrifying possibility that the most dangerous demons don’t come from hell, but are those we create, inherit, and carry within us.
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