There’s a twisted logic to Lee Daniels, a filmmaker of nose-boppingly obvious melodramas and sordid stupidity, that veers into horror. In an exorcism film, reason is often the only thing standing between a tortured family and some relief. But Daniels’ big, broad tone doesn’t lend itself to his ultra-serious tale of addiction, suffering children, cycles of abuse and the compelling power of Christ. With every overblown line of dialogue and toneless gambit, The Redemption closer and closer to the point of becoming a parody of itself.

This is partly because Daniels seems completely out of place in the genre, and partly because the family drama surrounding the horror is laughably confusing. Perhaps that’s to be expected from Daniels and his two male screenwriters—David Coggeshall (of The family Plan) and Elijah Bynum (of Dreams Magazinethe Jonathan Majors bodybuilding film that may never see the light of day)—an attempt to tell a ghost story about a single black mother.

Ebony (Andra Day) has just moved to a new place with her children — teenagers Shante (Demi Singleton) and Nate (Caleb McLaughlin), and elementary schooler Andre (Anthony B. Jenkins) — and her white mother Alberta (Glenn Close, after Elegy of the Hillbilly with another scandalous bit of Netflix camp). Day reunites with Daniels after receiving an Oscar nomination for her debut performance in The United States vs. Billie Holidayalthough here she has an infinitely less inspiring role. Ebony is a monotonous wreck, abusive, drunk and caustic. She beats her children around, abuses them with curses and steals their savings for a quick drink.

The Redemption is an abrasive film, even when that abrasiveness is so overdone it’s a joke. Glenn Close’s willingness to be a caricature is used as a weapon, shouting things like “Do it, bitch,” while dressed in a series of bad wigs, low-cut tops, and daisy dukes. The worst child protective services worker imaginable (Mo’Nique) drops by from time to time, keeping loose, hands-off tabs on Ebony’s increasingly brazen children. Even a pest control technician, called in because of the smell of decay in the house, doesn’t get away with it, braving racist slurs after berating his clients. This aggressive tone never melts into an oppressive atmosphere, nor does it connect the characters’ pain to the supernatural through any metaphor. This is not Babadook. It’s not even deep enough to pass as one of the many copycat “really about trauma” horror films that have come out in the decade since.

Instead of, The Redemption views its Bad Mom with a scolding paternalism, punishing Ebony’s lack of faith (which vanished after God failed to intervene when she was sexually abused as a child) with an onslaught of hellish events—the spiritual version of conservatives wagging their fingers at rape victims. The film takes a similarly disdainful view of the impoverished family’s absent father figure and Ebony’s alcoholism. Alberta used to be the same kind of violent drunk, but she goes to church, so she’s all good now. It’s all so loud and offensive that it’s hard not to laugh; it’s more of a Scary movie than a scary movie.

And yet, inspired by the Ammons ghost that haunted a family in Gary, Indiana in 2011, The Redemption trudges dutifully to Spirit Halloween, filling his cart with bargains: black flies buzzing out of nowhere, a cellar door that opens by itself, a demon posing as an imaginary friend, footsteps pounding in the middle of the night. Daniels ineptly checks items off his cliché-laden shopping list without investing in tension, pacing, or the basic construction of a jump scare.

Ammons’ house has been the subject of a film before (Zak Bagans’ pseudo-documentary) Demon Housewhich AV club employee Noel Murray predictable called “hooey”), and it’s hardly the subject of this film. The more compelling imagery established in the original case — a religious mother desperately anointing her children’s foreheads with olive oil crosses and building an altar in her basement — is rejected in favor of a flattering character arc in which a doubting Ebony finally lets Jesus into her heart.

The tangible reality of systemic poverty is also dismissed. Ebony’s family is always having wooden, superficial conversations about being broke or answering debt collector calls, but their home is spacious and well-maintained (except for the demons). Shante gets the new iPhone she asks for, and Alberta continues her cancer treatments. Even CPS never seems like a real threat. The only real ghost The Redemption What I sometimes try to imagine is the concern that there are no ghosts at all, but that it is just a lame excuse for Ebony, who is becoming increasingly violent.

But long before that’s refuted by ridiculously stupid makeup and ugly effects, we know it’s not true. The half-hearted attempts to cast doubt on the extent to which the main character beats her children is just another tasteless flavor in this miserable fare. The seriousness of the child abuse, for example, is contrasted with the ridiculous supporting characters who pop up haphazardly. A shady Omar Epps plays Alberta’s wonder caregiver in one scene, who seduces her by showing up at Shante’s birthday party and, finding a microphone, dedicating a song “to your sexy grandma.” This GILF hunter is never seen again.

When The Redemption finally stops stalling, the plot escalates rapidly and confusingly. A random exorcist (Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor) appears out of nowhere and, after an hour of utter nonsense, finally gets to work. The only thing is, it’s not an exorcism. It’s a release, which is the same thing, except the demon isn’t the target – Ebony’s lack of faith is. The Redemption is more of a God is not dead film than a “God, Help Us Not Be Dead” movie. It all builds to a final act that’s almost crazy enough to justify the rest of the movie; if the terrible script The Redemption seem like an unintentional parody, but the film’s climax inadvertently achieves Sam Raimi’s raw delirium Drag me to hell.

A profane and violent film, where the villains include child protective services, doctors and mental health professionals, while the hero is Jesus Christ.The Redemption is alternately dull and utterly insane. It’s never scary and only occasionally holds your attention. And even then, it’s usually for a terrifying reason, like considering the brutality of two men writing a sloppy scene about understanding something, “Black woman to Black woman.” Lee Daniels may not have found a suitable home for his theatrical filmmaking, but in this genre, it can sometimes be an unintended gift.

Director: Lee Daniels
Writer: David Coggeshall, Elijah Bynum
Starring: 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)