***This review contains some spoilers about the structure of the film***

Recently, films have tackled the idea of possession from different angles and ideologies, from South Korea’s The Wailing to the exploration of Jewish demons in The Vigil and the use of Bruja magic in The Old Ways. On the surface, Agnes seemingly explores the more traditionally Catholic aspect of possession/exorcism that’s been mined for years, it continues the recent trends by subverting expectations and providing a refreshingly odd take on the subgenre. “Should I be laughing at this?” is a question I asked multiple times, particularly throughout the first half, of Mickey Reece’s new film Agnes.

I should have been prepared for the awkward and cringe humor, really. A relative newcomer to Reece’s filmography, I watched Agnes with Climate of the Hunter, its oddities and its focus on wobbly green jello, still stuck in my head. And while Agnes begins with a similar focus on food as a cake, haphazardly frosted and somewhat melting, is carted down the halls of a convent, the following narrative makes Climate of the Hunter seem downright conventional. Before we’re even acclimated to the group of nuns living in said convent, one of them, the titular Agnes (Hayley McFarland) begins screaming, “Whores! You’re all whores!” while throwing handfuls of the cake at his fellow nuns. “Cocksuckers!” she screams.

Then a teacup levitates from the table.

It’s a lot to take in, yet is the perfect introduction for the first hour of Reece’s new film, especially when the title gets spray-painted in purple across the screen in punk rock fashion. Reece then introduces The Exorcist’s Father Merrin/Karras dynamic with Father Donaghue (Ben Hall) and soon-to-be-ordained priest Benjamin (Jake Horowitz). Immediately, Reece sets about dissecting the typical exorcism tropes by giving its characters a darkness. Donaghue isn’t just a hardened priest, he’s on the verge of being shipped overseas for some not-so-subtly-hinted-at sexual misconduct.

After a meeting with a bunch of older priests who set out the exorcism mission, Benjamin asks if he’s safe around Donaghue. The older priests share a look and begin cackling at him: “You’re a grown man, Benjamin,” one says, “you’re going to be just fine.” While this revelation is played for an awkward laugh, the camera flitting between the old priests laughing at their own joke while situated between taxidermied animals, it also dives to the heart of the corruption facing the characters in Agnes. These religious figures aren’t the heroes that Fathers Merrin and Karras were presented as, nearly 50 years ago in The Exorcist.

In fact, Donaghue is so removed from those ideals of priesthood that he doesn’t even understand why the good-looking Benjamin would want to become a priest. Surely, he says, Benjamin could meet a nice girl (or guy…“that’d be okay, too. I don’t know what you’re into”). He doesn’t need the church, it’s implied, particularly with its antiquated beliefs of demons and any of the other “medieval woo-woo,” as he calls it. He thinks the church is too obsessed with the idea of original sin and he wants to convince Benjamin to do something different with his life before it’s too late. Donaghue obviously came to the church looking for something that he never found and has been haunted by it. It’s a theme that continues throughout, as the conflict centers on the possessed Agnes, her friend Sister Mary (Molly C. Quinn) and their struggles between secular life and a religious one.

The first hour of Agnes moves along at a hilarious clip. Mickey Reece’s witty dialogue and hyper-real characterizations keeps the condensed exorcism story moving from hilarious bon mot to explosively supernatural attack. Stylistic flourishes hint at the same quirky sensibilities Reece brought to Climate of the Hunter, such as when Sister Honey (Zandy Hartig) is confronted with the two, attractive male interlopers and finds herself charmed. When he learns her name, Donaghue quotes a sexually-charged passage from Proverbs about honey, causing Sister Honey to blush and squeal like a schoolgirl, “oh my god, stooooop.” This type of knowing camp continues throughout the first half of the Agnes with Reece taking traditional plot points and quirking them to show how ill-equipped the church members are while also poking fun at the stuffy exorcism narratives.

But just like that, this mix of surreality and hyperreality vanishes as the narrative ditches its absurdism to follow Sister Mary’s life outside of the convent. After spending around an hour locked in the stuffy confines of a convent, the sudden appearance of the secular world is as unmooring to the audience as it is to Sister Mary. At this point, Agnes sheds its brisk-moving parody for a more deliberately paced but biting satire of the nature of faith and our desire to understand the life we’ve been given. It’s such a sharp, sudden tonal shift and a dramatic reversal of expectations that will divide viewers. It’s an important shift, though, because Agnes is equally interested in what comes after the exorcism as it is with twisting genre tropes.

Reece’s filmography continues to be keenly focused on upending expectations and while the second half of Agnes is a little clunky, it also continued to keep me on my toes. Structurally, this back half might seem like a completely different movie, but it actually amplifies the themes it introduced during the madcap first hour. In a cinematic world where plot structure seems ordained to the point where we are are sometimes pages ahead of the script and characters, Reece’s writing remains refreshingly shocking.

Complementing the plotting, his dialogue is sharp and incisive, whether it’s a humorous aside between Father Donaghue and Mother Superior (Mary Buss) or the more insightful discussions of faith and isolation that follow. His dialogue lives in the dichotomy of his hyperreal narratives and characters and its piercing exploration and critique of faith. Sister Mary, a seemingly minor character living between the theatrics of Father Donaghue’s exorcism, becomes the emotional throughline for the film as the narrative switches, trading camp for a serious exploration of doubt.

“God took my son away and left me with nothing,” Mary confesses at one point. But it’s this tragic event that actually led her to the convent and put her in the path of the demon. This conversation is also a far cry from the campy dialogue of the first half, where Mother Superior would shout, “there are men in this house, you slut!” It’s as if Reece wants to lull the audience in before springing a trap that culminates in a low-key humorous but introspective exploration of faith and isolation in the modern world.

It won’t be for everyone, but Agnes continued to surprise me in the best way and has cemented Mickey Reece as a filmmaker to watch.