Ghosts? I get ghosts. Not really alive, just kind of hanging around where they used to live, maybe even being the occasional dick - this makes sense to me. Ghosts...*checks clipboard* welcome aboard.
Monsters - these f--kers rule, too. Hey, you're an friendless abomination, probably hungry as f--k, so it's totally logical that you're killing and devouring everything in sight. What else are you supposed to do - rely on the kindness of strangers? You're a f--king monster. Ain't nobody giving you shit, outside of a bullet between the eyes or a pitchfork up the ass. Go ahead and eat a kid, Monster. F--k it, we can make more of 'em - like that.
But Demons? Man, f--k you pricks right in your upside-down asses. First, you're getting people's religion involved, and murderous f--kwad or not, that shit's just rude. On top of that, you're crass, prone to pissing, shitting and vomiting wherever it suits you, and just generally a bummer to be around. Oh, and a special f--k you to ruining nudity, too, as no one wants to see every curve of your goddamned pelvis.
And all that's before you start crawling around the floor like a coked-up asshole.
Anybody out there making the argument that 2018 was a great year for horror should grab the nearest crucifix and thrust it repeatedly at The Possession of Hannah Grace. Dumped into theaters unceremoniously a few weeks back, it wasn't Christ that compelled me to catch this janky mess on the big screen, it was Venom. But more on that in a bit.
The Possession of Hannah Grace opens exactly like you would expect it to, mid-exorcism, where a nasty demon has taken control of, you guessed it, a young white woman. Her dad is nearby, and when things head south, he smothers her like a stack of pancakes, assuming instead of syrup, you cover your pancakes with a pillow. Violently.
Cut to three months later, and all of a sudden we're balls-deep in some sexy lady's quarter-life crisis. Apparently she's an ex-cop determined to trade in her metaphorical demons for literal ones. Turns out, there are no other jobs available outside of graveyard shift at the world's most poorly-lit morgue, so even fine-ass Megan Reed (Shay Mitchell, probably from a show I've never watched) takes the gig. I mean, this is Boston, so it's either schlepping the corpses of dead hobos about or the night shift at a Dunkin' Donuts in Saugus. Either way, for someone prone to wicked flashbacks, this new situation ain't exactly ideal.
The Possession of Hannah Grace opens exactly like you would expect it to, mid-exorcism, where a nasty demon has taken control of, you guessed it, a young white woman. Her dad is nearby, and when things head south, he smothers her like a stack of pancakes, assuming instead of syrup, you cover your pancakes with a pillow. Violently.
Cut to three months later, and all of a sudden we're balls-deep in some sexy lady's quarter-life crisis. Apparently she's an ex-cop determined to trade in her metaphorical demons for literal ones. Turns out, there are no other jobs available outside of graveyard shift at the world's most poorly-lit morgue, so even fine-ass Megan Reed (Shay Mitchell, probably from a show I've never watched) takes the gig. I mean, this is Boston, so it's either schlepping the corpses of dead hobos about or the night shift at a Dunkin' Donuts in Saugus. Either way, for someone prone to wicked flashbacks, this new situation ain't exactly ideal.
