When I was told that space would be tight this week and that I should go short on reviews, I asked if I could review Devil’s Due by simply saying, “Trust me, folks, this thing sucks a moose.” I was told that was perhaps too short. So I find myself, like the book reviewer in Love & Human Remains (1993), pondering: “How do you say ‘it’s shit’ for 600 words?” Well, c’est merde does indeed sum it up . (How many words are we up to?) I will make some valiant attempt at explaining why it’s utter manure, though I can scarcely imagine why you would care — unless you’re a fertilizer salesman. Even then, this is not high-grade fertilizer.
What we have here is the sort-of found-footage version of Rosemary’s Baby — as reconfigured by lesser primates than Roman Polanski. The film is either so inept — or so contemptuous of its audience that it doesn’t bother to try — that it can’t even stick to its dumb found-footage flapdoodle. We are supposed to believe that it was cobbled together (by whom, I have no clue) from home video footage and security cameras. Banana oil. It’s just a jumble of shaky, wobbly images that couldn’t possibly be what they’re claimed to be. Granted, the whole found-footage premise is played out and pointless, but you could at least pretend this footage (including footage that’s stolen by the satanists part-way through the proceedings) could be real. Parts of it don’t even make sense.
The story involves a newlywed couple (Allison Miller, Zach Gilford) who (after what seems like hours of pointless setup) go on their honeymoon to some impoverished banana republic where they’re spirited off by Creepy Cab Driver (Roger Payano) to some subterranean night club. They get tight. Strange, barely glimpsed things happen. As it turns out, the couple took park in one of those rituals where the bride awakes only to learn (over the course of the picture) that she’s been knocked up by the devil. This is never good news, and the film sets out to prove this fact with seemingly purposeful tedium. Predictably, it all ends awash in blood and codswallop.
What can we take from this of any value? Not much. There’s a pretty funny scene where Demon Mom chows down on deer entrails and sends hapless meat-on-the-hoof teens flying through the air with the greatest of ease. Unfortunately, this accounts for no more than three minutes of screen time. That leaves too much of the movie unaccounted for. Look, trust me — this thing sucks a moose. Rated R for language and some bloody images.
Playing at Carmike 10, Regal Biltmore Grande.