Eternal life, uh, finds a way in cathecistic creepfest Immaculate

If the road to Hell is paved with divine intentions, that road surely leads to My Lady Sorrows, a convent and hospice in the remote Italian countryside. Rich in macabre Catholic iconography, Immaculate sets out to disturb from the very first frame and it’s not a case of waiting to see whether evil lurks in its cloistered setting but trying to figure out if there’s anything there but evil.

Cecilia (Sydney Sweeney), a young woman driven by deep faith, seeks to take her holy orders in a remote Italian convent where her arrival is greeted with a mixture of muted warmth and barely disguised suspicion. Befriended by the rebellious and spirited Sister Mary (Simona Tabasco), whose scepticism acts as an audience proxy to excuse the otherwise undeniable parade of red flags and feted by Sister Isabelle (Benedetta Porcaroli) and the sleazily solicitous Father Tedeschi (Álvaro Morte), Cecilia quickly finds life in the convent is anything but sacrosanct and as she navigates the convent’s labyrinthine corridors and dark secrets, she is drawn into a terrifying ordeal that tests the limits of her faith and sanity.

Whatever else you might feel about Immaculate and its star Sydney Sweeney, there’s no denying that she delivers a breathtakingly committed powerhouse of a performance, imbuing Cecilia with a potent mix of piety and fragility and fortitude, drawing the viewer into her harrowing experiences. Her performance anchors the film, giving the supranatural elements just the right amount of verisimilitude that the horror feels horribly real rather than far-fetched and cartoonish, like in The Nun.

While nobody could accuse Immaculate of being a colourful film, the bleak cinematography transforms the supposedly serene convent into a gothic nightmare of flickering candlelight and dancing shadows. The production design helps by combining a superficial culture of dutiful and diligent cleaning and maintenance that nonetheless can’t disguise the corruption and decay in every space.

Of course, the core revelation is somewhat telegraphed by the movie’s title and the scenes where her character grapples with an apparently immaculate conception and the ensuing adoration and jealousy it provokes in her sisters are profoundly compelling, showcasing Sweeney’s remarkable range and depth when she’s given good material to work with (yes, I’m looking at you, Madame Web). Yet, despite its atmospheric prowess and Sweeney’s leave-it-all-on-screen performance, Immaculate stumbles in its narrative execution. The screenplay feels hurried, racing through plot points without really exploring the ideas at play in the depth they deserve. The exploration of patriarchal control over women’s bodies, while searingly topical, skims the surface rather than delving into the profound psychological and emotional impacts and is ultimately pushed to the sidelines by a slightly silly and underdeveloped MacGuffin that boils down to a rogue Catholic plot to do a Jurassic Park to Jesus. As the film progresses, it descends into the catacombs of cliché, increasing its reliance on jump scares, and finally discarding its ideas in favour of a finale so drenched in violence and blood that even Carrie might think it a little too much.

When held up against classics like The Exorcist or The Omen, Immaculate deserves praise for its aesthetic qualities but needs to atone for its narrative sins. These classics masterfully blend theological dread with deeply personal stories, something Immaculate aspires to but doesn’t fully achieve. Through a more contemporary lens, it’s a little too outré to compare with the likes of Saint Maud, which features a similarly committed and intense central performance but is so profoundly serious it makes Immaculate seem a bit crass and histrionic.

In the end, Immaculate tantalizes with its potential but really answer audience’s prayers. Driven by Sydney Sweeney’s powerful performance and with an ending that is as brutal and bloody as it is potentially blasphemous, it lacks the substance to achieve transcend to cinematic divinity.