Lee Daniels, filmmaker of hair-raising melodramas and filthy stupidity that cross over into the horror genre, has a twisted logic. In an exorcism film, reason is often the only thing standing in the way of the tormented family finding relief. But Daniels’ big, broad tone is not suited to his overly serious tale of addiction, suffering children, cycles of abuse and the compelling power of Christ. With every over-the-top line of dialogue and every insensitive gamble, The Redemption is getting closer and closer to becoming a parody of itself.
This is partly because Daniels seems completely out of his depth with the genre, and partly because the family drama surrounding horror is ridiculously confusing. Perhaps this is due to Daniels and his two male screenwriters – David Coggeshall (of The family Plan) and Elijah Bynum (from Magazine Dreamsthe bodybuilding movie starring Jonathan Majors that may never see the light of day) – an attempt to tell a ghost story about single black mothers.
Ebony (Andra Day) is currently with her children – teenagers Shante (Demi Singleton) and Nate (Caleb McLaughlin) and elementary school student Andre (Anthony B. Jenkins) – and their white mother Alberta (Glenn Close, followed by Hillbilly Elegy with another outrageous piece of Netflix camp). Day reunites with Daniels after her debut performance in The United States vs. Billie Holidayalthough she has a far less inspiring role here. Ebony is a monotonous wreck, abusive, boozy and caustic. She beats her children, heaps curses on them and steals their savings for a quick drink.
The Redemption is an aggressive film, even when that aggressiveness is so over-the-top that it becomes a punchline. Glenn Close’s willingness to be a caricature is weaponized, yelling things like “Do it, bitch” while wearing a series of bad wigs, low-cut tops, and Daisy Dukes. The worst child welfare worker imaginable (Mo’Nique) drops by from time to time and casually keeps an eye on Ebony’s increasingly abused children without interference. Even an exterminator called in because of the house’s smell of decay doesn’t get off scot-free, having to endure racist remarks after berating his clients. This aggressive tone never coalesces into an oppressive atmosphere, nor does it connect its characters’ pain to the supernatural by using any kind of metaphor. This isn’t a Babadook. It’s not even deep enough to pass as one of the many “actually about trauma” knock-off horror films that have popped up in the decade since.
Instead, The Redemption regards its Bad Mom with the paternalism of a dirty word and punishes Ebony’s lack of faith (which waned after God failed to intervene when she was sexually abused as a child) with a barrage of hellish events – the spiritual version of conservatives pointing fingers at rape victims. The film takes a similarly contemptuous perspective on the impoverished family’s absent father figure and Ebony’s alcoholism. Alberta needed the same kind of abusive drunk, but she goes to church, so she’s all right now. It’s all so loud and abusive that it’s hard not to laugh; it’s more of a Scary movie than a horror film.
And yet, inspired by the Ammons haunting that haunted a family in Gary, Indiana in 2011, The Redemption trudges dutifully to Spirit Halloween and fills his shopping cart with rummage bins: black flies that swarm out of nowhere, a basement door that opens on its own, a demon posing as an imaginary friend, stomping footsteps in the middle of the night. Daniels ineptly checks things off his shopping list of cliches without investing in suspense, pacing, or the basic construction of a scare.
The Ammons House has already been the subject of a film (Zak Bagan’s pseudo-documentary Demon Housewhich AV Club Contributor Noel Murray predictable called “Bullshit”), and it’s hardly the subject of this film. The more compelling imagery of the original case – a religious mother desperately anointing her children’s foreheads with olive oil crosses and building an altar in her basement – is discarded in favor of a pandering character arc in which a doubtful Ebony finally lets Jesus into her heart.
The tangible realities of systemic poverty are also omitted. Ebony’s family always has wooden, intrusive conversations about being broke or getting calls from debt collectors, but their house is spacious and well-kept (except for the demons). Shante gets the new iPhone she wanted, and Alberta continues to get her cancer treatments. Even child welfare never seems to be a real threat. The only bogeyman in the real world The Redemption What is trying to conjure up at all is the concern that it is not really a haunting, but that it is just a weak excuse by the increasingly violent Ebony.
But long before that’s disproved by silly makeup and ugly effects, we know that’s not true. The half-hearted efforts to sow doubt about the extent to which the main character beats her children are just another uncomfortable side dish to this pathetic meal. The severity of the child abuse, for example, contrasts with the ridiculous supporting characters who pop up haphazardly. A smarmy Omar Epps plays Alberta’s one-scene wonder of a caregiver, who seduces her by showing up at Shante’s birthday party, finding a microphone, and dedicating a song to “your sexy grandmother.” This GILF hunter is never seen again.
When The Redemption finally stops hesitating, the plot escalates quickly and confusingly. A random exorcist (Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor) shows up out of the blue and, after an hour of pure nonsense, finally gets down to business. The only problem is that it’s not an exorcism. It’s a deliverance, which is the same thing, except the target is not the demon, but Ebony’s lack of faith. The Redemption is in this respect more of a God is not dead film as a “God help us not to be dead” film. It all leads to a final act that is almost insane enough to justify sitting through the rest of the film; if the terrible script The Redemption seem like an involuntary parody, the cinematic art of the climax unintentionally reaches the wild delirium of Sam Raimi’s Drag me to hell.
A blasphemous and violent film – in which the villains are the youth welfare office, doctors and psychologists, but the hero is Jesus Christ –The Redemption is by turns boring and totally insane. It’s never scary, and only occasionally holds your attention. And even then, it’s usually for a chilling reason, like considering how brazenly two men write a clumsy scene about understanding something “from black woman to black woman.” Lee Daniels may not have found a suitable home for his theatrical films, but at least in this genre, it can sometimes be a serendipitous gift.
Director: Lee Daniels
Writer: David Coggeshall, Elijah Bynum
With: Andra Day, Glenn Close, Mo’Nique, Anthony B. Jenkins, Miss Lawrence, Demi Singleton, Tasha Smith, Omar Epps, Caleb McLaughlin, Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor
Release date: August 30, 2024 (Netflix)
