The Pope's Exorcist (2023) review

Vespa-ridin', whiskey-chuggin' Father Gabriele Amorth (Russell Crowe), an expert in demonology, is sent to the San Sebastian Abbey in Castile, Spain to tend to boy named Henry (Peter DeSouza-Feighoney) who is exhibiting horrifying symptoms and can't be controlled by his sister Amy (Laurel Marsden) or recently widowed mother Julia (Alex Essoe).  I appreciate that it at least addresses how many of the cases of so-called "possession" are actually the result of mental illness and not the supernatural - and Crowe, as usual, adds some gravitas (in his first role in a horror movie!) - but it gets more ludicrous and intolerably gaudy as it continues on, with a bloody lady appearing and pentagrams swirling and bodies hurled at walls and words carved into flesh: it's a Ken Russell fever dream instead of something tangible (since it is based on books written by an actual exorcist).  Amorth claims that the Devil doesn't enjoy humor, and yet - through Henry - he delivers a real zinger: after latching onto Julia's breast he screams, "The baby's hungry, you fat cow!"