Debut writer-director David Creed falls prey to antiquated tropes in a stale folk-horror led by four vacuous final girls
This eye-gougingly derivative folk-horror outing arrives as a form of hex on anyone trying to advance women’s representation on screen. Its four final girls, running around in hitched-up vests with slogans such as “no bad days” and “lucky clover”, are so vacuous, annoying and faux-empowered that Sacrilege almost unwittingly comes across as an 83-minute attempt to discredit the Bechdel test.
“Here’s to the girls in stiletto shoes who make all the money and drink all the booze.” That’s the toast Kayla (Tamaryn Payne) and her pals Blake (Sian Abrahams) and Stacey (Naomi Willow) use to wash away bad news – that the evil mugger who beat Kayla into a coma is out on early release – and head off for a girls’ weekend to a remote country lodge. Even her cheating ex, the sulphurous Trish (Emily Wyatt), gets an invite. Once there, not only do they fail to clock the stag skull on their host’s Jeep grille, the one on the front door doesn’t ring any bells either.