aya Larkin, a pale and troubled young woman, gets a visit from her
mentor, Father Lareaux (John Hurt), and his "God squad" of exorcists, which
includes the anxious Deacon John Townsend (Koteas). Armed with a court
order, they visit convicted serial killer Henry Birdson (John Diehl) and,
against the wishes of Birdson's psychiatrist, attempt to drive the spirits
out of his body. The attempt fails, leaving Lareaux and Birdson both
comatose.
But Maya has decoded Birdson's numeric scribblings and believes they hold
the key to the coming of the Antichrist, who will take human form in the
person of a man named Peter Kelson (Chaplin). Kelson, it turns out, is a
best-selling New York author, observer of serial killers and resolute
atheist. Though his parents were murdered when he was young, Kelson has
constructed what appears to be a perfect life, including a beautiful
girlfriend, devoted family and swanky Upper East Side apartment. Not even
Kelson's Uncle James, a Catholic priest, can sway Kelson from the belief
that evil does not really exist.
But when Maya suddenly shows up on his doorstep to warn him about the
impending transformation, Kelson can't ignore the signs. Maya--whose own
past includes a brush with the devil--believes that Kelson fits the profile
of the man who will open the gateway to suffering on Earth. The more deeply Kelson enters Maya's world, the more he discovers that things in his life
are not what they seem. Townshend, meanwhile, believes that the time is
short, and takes matters into his own hands. And Maya experiences horrifying
visions that convince her she must act soon, or risk everything.
No horror, no thrills
Lost Souls, the directorial debut of Oscar-winning cinematographer
Janusz Kaminski (Saving Private Ryan), turns up in theaters just in
time for Halloween, after having been delayed more than a year to move it
out of the line of fire of similarly themed movies End of Days and
Stigmata. It's not worth the wait.
Kaminski knows how to evoke mood and dread through images, and his film
is very handsome. Shot in sepia tones and the desaturated color of
Ryan, it is dense with fog, back-lighting, slow motion, odd angles
and extreme close-ups. But striking images do not a suspenseful horror movie
make, and Kaminski has less success with narrative and character. Along with
last year's The Ninth Gate, Lost Souls falls into a new genre
of filmmaking: the horror movie devoid of horror, the supernatural thriller
devoid of thrills or the supernatural.
Apparently aiming to build psychological suspense along the lines of
Rosemary's Baby, the derivative Lost Souls instead amounts to
little more than scene after scene of a tremulous Ryder playing amateur
detective while a dewy-eyed Chaplin frets in handsomely appointed rooms.
Lost Souls has the lumbering pace of an Ingmar Bergman movie, which
is curious given the brevity of many of its scenes. The characters are given
heaps of backstory that is established with a word or gesture, but their
inner conflicts, deeper motivations and passions remain unexplored. The
result is a movie about a crisis of faith in which there is little crisis
and less faith.
On a more superficial level, the movie fails at providing any scary
moments or true shocks. With a couple of exceptions, what few supernatural
elements exist in the film take place in flashback, behind closed doors or
off-screen. The movie is a lot of foreboding with no payoff, and that is
especially true of the confusing and disappointing ending.
