Why Are Americans Obsessed with Exorcisms Again?

From suburban theaters to late-night streaming binges, a familiar trope is making a hellish comeback: exorcism films. The formula is instantly recognizable—a possessed body, a reluctant priest, a skeptical doctor, and an escalating series of supernatural events. But the recurrence of this genre, and its current upswing, suggests more than a preference for jump scares. The question isn’t just “why are we scared?” but “why now?”

The exorcism movie boom mirrors something profound in the American cultural mood: a deep-rooted, often inarticulate fear that something has gone deeply wrong. These films—part horror, part theological opera—function like funhouse mirrors, reflecting our disordered selves back at us. In a time when institutions have faltered, national unity is frayed, and trust is scarce, the metaphor of demonic possession lands with disturbing resonance.

This isn’t the 1970s, but the parallels are striking. Then, America was reeling from the Vietnam War, the collapse of political trust post-Watergate, and social upheaval. Now, we have the trauma of a pandemic, political polarization at a boiling point, and a rapidly digitizing society that seems to undermine stable identities. In both cases, possession narratives surged in popularity. Coincidence? Unlikely.

These stories boil complex societal trauma into a single figure: the demon. They turn diffuse anxiety into a confrontable evil. That’s powerful. Films like “The Exorcism of Emily Rose,” “The Pope’s Exorcist,” and even more schlocky entries in the genre, all offer something rare in today’s chaos—a plot with moral clarity. There’s a victim, a villain, and a solution. It’s spiritual engineering for a culture allergic to ambiguity.

The aesthetic of these films also plays into the moment. Cold, sterile hospitals, echoing churches, and flickering lights suggest a world teetering on the edge. Even the priests—traditionally firm and faithful—are often cynical, scarred, or wrestling with doubt. These are not squeaky-clean crusaders; they are broken vessels. And that’s the point. Exorcism movies are about resistance, not perfection.

What’s also fascinating is the way these films thrive outside mainstream religious channels. Many of their biggest fans are not card-carrying Catholics or fundamentalists. They’re spiritually curious, religiously unaffiliated viewers seeking some kind of engagement with moral seriousness. Horror is one of the last genres that still treats evil like it matters.

In the streaming era, this means a lot. Exorcism films are cheap to make, reliably profitable, and cater to global markets. But they also do ideological work. They push back against a cultural flattening where everything is relative and nothing is sacred. They demand belief, even if just for two hours.

Ultimately, the rise of exorcism movies in today’s America is not about scaring people. It’s about giving them a language—however fantastical—for something they feel but can’t quite name. In an age of endless crises and spiritual confusion, shouting “the power of Christ compels you” might be less about faith and more about fury. A rage against the dying of the sacred.

So as demons thrash across our screens, the real story may not be what they represent—but why we keep inviting them in.