Prey for the Devil: Faith, Fear, and the Women Who Defied the Holy Order
When Prey for the Devil was announced, horror fans shrugged up and not just because it was another exorcism film, but because it had the audacity of centering a woman in the struggle the Church has had for centuries. The film was released in 2022 and was directed by Daniel Stamm, known for The Last Exorcism. The film looked, on the surface, like a typical possession story, with demons, priests, and shrieks in shadowy corridors. However, beneath that surface, Prey for the Devil was, and still is, about something more human: the trauma, the faith, and the cost of being silenced in a system that was not designed for you.
The Calling of Sister Ann
At the center of the film is Sister Ann, played by Jacqueline Byers, a young nun whose past was damaged by the memory of her mother’s demonic possession. The film begins not with huge scares but with small, quiet defiance. Ann volunteers to join the exorcism training program at the Vatican, something women are not supposed to do.
Even this initial arrangement contains multiple interpretations. The first antagonist to the film’s progression is the rigid hierarchy of the Catholic Church — an institution that refuses to acknowledge a woman as a fully spiritually autonomous being. Ann’s fight to be heard by her superiors is a reflection of an ongoing struggle of centuries of women being silenced within the church. The film, however, builds Ann as a fighter, not a victim, and an empathetic one at that. Empathy is a virtue that Ann ultimately embodies.
In the role of Ann, Byers conveys a unique combination of a purity and exhaustion. Her faith and trauma are at perpetual odds. There is a profound darkness that numerous individuals have encountered and, by virtue of resilience, continue to wage war against. In interviews, Byers explained that she resonated with Ann on a specifically personal level. “It’s about belief — not just in God, but in yourself,” she explained. “Ann wants to save others because she couldn’t save her mother. That’s her cross to carry.”
That single statement reframes the film’s center of gravity. A supernatural narrative concept transforms the film’s center of gravity to deeply psychological, with the exorcism of inherited guilt as the focal point, rather than the demons.
Beneath the Cross — Themes That Burn Quietly
Prey for the Devil has dual symbolism — holy vs human, faith vs fear, mother vs daughter. The exorcism scenes are chillingly stylized, but the real horror is emotional. Each possession is more than a scare tactic; it is a metaphor for deeply internalized pain.
Sister Ann’s connection to the possessed girl, Natalie, is a generational echo — two daughters tormented by maternal love warped by darkness. The Church wants Ann to consider the situation with procedural caution, but she is guided instead by reckless compassion. Her empathy is, in fact, an act of rebellion.
The film’s greatest symbolic revelation — that the demon chasing Natalie is the same one that once possessed Ann’s mother — crystallizes the idea of cyclical trauma. Prey for the Devil’s evil is not random; it is inherited, passed through blood and memory and demanding confrontation.
Even the visual motifs — mirrors, candlelight, and locked doors — serve the same symbolism. The seminary’s sterile walls hide a world trembling with chaos. Each time Ann descends to the catacombs for training, it is a descent into her own subconscious.
Cinematographer Denis Crossan employs gold and gray contrasts to emphasize this duality — holy light bleeding into shadow, and faith framed against confinement. The film’s palette feels deliberately trapped between the purity and the corruption, mirroring Ann’s own struggle as well.
When Fiction Mirrors Reality
Jacqueline Byers’ preparation for the role involved much more than memorizing Latin prayers, and mastering ritual gestures. It required a recognition of the sort of faith that is both a comfort and a constraint. Byers, who was raised Catholic, mentioned that the film provoked reflections concerning her upbringing. “I grew up surrounded by faith, but also by silence — certain questions you didn’t ask,” she noted. “Ann’s defiance felt personal. She’s asking the questions we were told not to.”
Colin Salmon, who plays Father Quinn — the priest who mentors Ann, described the project as “a story about courage in the face of doctrine.” The film’s exploration of repression reson with its cast and crew. He admitted to me that the conversations concerning faith, trauma, and the power structures that govern belief were so intense, that they tended to drift to real life.
This production, which was also filmed in Bulgaria, ran into issues as well. Swamped with pandemic restrictions, Stamm and his team had to quickly adjust to pivot filming locations and overcome improvisation challenges. “We ended up rewriting entire sequences overnight. It became this strange blend of divine improvisation and chaos — fitting for a movie about possession,” Stamm later explained.
The more physical scenes, particularly the exorcism scenes, impacted the emotional and physical state of the actors. Byers was said to have trained in controlled breathing and physical conditioning for the hours of emotionally taxing suspended wire work. “It was exhausting,” she said in an interview, “but also kind of cathartic. Ann’s endurance became mine.”
The Weight of the Habit – Feminism in a Horror Cloak
Predominantly classified as a traditional exorcism thriller, Prey for the Devil also teaches the lesson of feminism. The role of Sister Ann defies the expected dominant patriarchal structures of the Church, along with the genre itself. In most exorcism films, such as The Exorcist and The Rite, women are the possessed, not the self-saviors. Here, the exorcist is a woman who holds the cross.
Discontent prompted conversations ahead of the film’s release. The initial trailer depicting Ann during an exorcism sparked mixed anticipation. Excited fans appreciated the modern twist. One viral tweet exclaimed, “Finally, a nun who fights back!” However, some conservative fans were quick to chastise the idea as “unrealistic.”
Stamm chose to engage with the controversy. Moving from empathy, the film’s core message, to his explanation, empathy as a force to combat evil, serves a woman, assists in love’s overt victory, not authority. The point remains love conquers evil.
Without the pointed reframing, the film’s emotional landscape would have relied simply on fear. Silence was a powerful choice. Long, prayer-like reflections that remain unyielding in their demonization allow Ann’s face to speak, where the demon cannot. The exorcism becomes an act of soul-searching rather than a spectacle.
When the Devil Hides in Grief
Aside from the film’s feminist viewpoint, Prey for the Devil explores the theme of grief. The demon in the film is not just a supernatural figure. The unaddressed demon is Ann’s trauma and the Church’s denial.
One of the most memorable moments in the film occurs when Ann remembers her mom’s insanity. Ann faces a possessed Natalie. Those two realities merge – for an instant Ann isn’t exorcising a kid, she is forgiving her mother. In horror, it’s rare that the emotion, as opposed to shock, is what lands the blow, but this sequence accomplishes just that.