No Power Compels the Tepid My Best Friend’s Exorcism Adaptation

The best part of My Best Friend’s Exorcism is Christopher Lowell, showing up around the last lap as a Bible-thumping, bodybuilding wannabe exorcist, who chickens out the minute he sees a vision of his dead mom. Whatever film everyone else involved thinks they’re making, they’re not in the same one as Lowell; he’s on a wavelength of self-aware and immersive, toeing the line where ‘80s nostalgia is separated from ‘80s parody. Frankly, an entire movie based around his character, who actually has a character to speak of, sounds like a good time, but let’s be careful what we wish for. Chances are, that movie would turn out to be a drag, too.
My Best Friend’s Exorcism’s ingredient list is sumptuous: Christopher Landon producing an adaptation of the same-named Grady Hendrix novel starring Elsie Fisher. Damon Thomas directs. This is the least eye-catching name of the lot, but with so much talent allocated everywhere else, you’d be perfectly rational to anticipate goodness from the film. You may also be sorely disappointed. Somewhere in the transition from page to screen, Hendrix’s work was pressed and blanched, reduced to a flavorless porridge that doesn’t reflect his author’s voice in the slightest. Everything here is affected or flat, from the scare scenes to happier, upbeat moments between teenage girls on the precipice of seismic life changes. Ostensibly, this is a movie about best friends and the exorcism that comes between them. Only the second part of the title lands.
Fisher plays Abby, on track for college. Amiah Miller plays Gretchen, about to move two states away. They’ve been pals since fourth grade, through thick and thin, but not thick enough to keep a demon from screwing up their bond. After a night hanging out at a lakeside cabin with the rest of their friend circle, Glee (Cathy Ang) and Margaret (Rachel Ogechi Kanu), the girls incur the wrath of a malicious spirit who slowly wriggles its way into Gretchen’s body, bent on expelling her soul. Abby sees that something’s wrong with her friend, and no one else does, because of course: Horror. What would a genre film be if everyone believed the protagonist’s claims of demonic possession?
Abby doesn’t make that claim at first, though. She suspects Gretchen has been raped by Wallace (Clayton Royal Johnson), Margaret’s boyfriend, reading all the signs of Gretchen’s possession as signs of her sexual trauma. This lands My Best Friend’s Exorcism in the same territory as Fede Álvarez’s 2013 Evil Dead remake, but that movie has the sense to at least try wrapping the rape metaphor up in copious gore. (Also, the rapist is a tree.) My Best Friend’s Exorcism bangs the audience about the head with the allegorical connection between rape of the body and rape of the soul without paying off the part it plays in creating conflict between Abby and Gretchen. Granted, Abby is a kid. She needs someone to explain the signs to her, which is why she consults a magazine for guidance. But given how much focus is put on the possibility of Gretchen’s rape, and how that dovetails with her friendship with Abby, the resolution is too pat, too compressed.