Ambitious Nun Horror Agnes Isn’t Convent-ional or Entirely Successful
Mickey Reece’s Agnes contains two films. One is a campy, pleasantly derivative exorcism romp. The other, a somber story about a young woman clinging to the cult-like trappings of a nunnery as a trauma response. The story is somewhat simple: Father Donaghue (Ben Hall) is summoned to a convent to perform an exorcism on an allegedly possessed nun, Agnes (Hayley McFarland). Watching the gory hubbub from the sidelines, Mary (Molly Quinn), Agnes’ friend and fellow sister, becomes increasingly agitated and disillusioned with her faith, and ends up leaving the practice. The second half of Agnes sees Mary working a dismal job at a supermarket and wrestling with her ever-waning faith.
At its midpoint, Agnes undergoes a sharp tonal shift, and regardless of the subject matter, that’s always a very tricky tightrope to traverse. What results isn’t entirely successful. Indeed, a number of the supporting performances are amateurish enough to make you wince, while flashy stylistic choices, such as a splashy graffiti-style title card and snazzy pop beats, end up being grating and confusing. But Agnes’ main problems don’t come from these misguided production choices. By pushing its first half to tonal extremes—likely in order to make for a memorable contrast against a bleaker (and much better) second half—the film’s tenor is far too disjointed to make any sense as a whole.
As soon as Mary leaves the convent, Reece seems to forget the first half of Agnes entirely. This is surprising, given the fact that the film seemed to be carefully gearing up toward a witty subversion of the overplayed haunted nunnery trope seen in films like The Nun and, most notably, Agnes of God, via its bizarre soundtrack choices and funny one-liners. (I did laugh out loud when Donaghue says “stick to the script,” and the camera zooms in on a Bible).
But the first half of the film ends up being largely anticlimactic (well, someone’s nose does get bitten off, but still) and when this storyline is left behind, it is really left behind—and an abundance of unanswered questions along with it. There is a question as to whether or not Agnes is actually possessed, or if her abbesses are merely projecting their fastidious cruelty onto the unwieldy young girl. There is a hint, too, that Agnes is faking her possession entirely in an attempt to escape the nunnery, but this possibility is not explored beyond a short conversation between herself and Mary. And then there’s the strange, lingering question of whether or not Donaghue sexually abused young boys. Alluding to the accusations and then never revisiting them is an odd choice, to say the least.
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