DEAR Lord, save me from this torment.

I have glimpsed the fiery pits of Hell, otherwise known as Exorcist: The Beginning, a shambolic horror prequel chronicling the early years of Father Merrin (played by Max Von Sydow in the 1973 original) in post-Second World War, Africa.

Such incomprehensible plotting, cheap shocks and laughable dialogue; I can barely endure the nightmarish memory of those two hours in the private purgatory of a darkened cinema.

I shall confess everything.

Father Lankester Merrin (Skarsgard) flees his native Holland to escape the horrors of Nazi brutality perpetrated against the innocent people of his parish.

His faith is his fellow man and the Almighty has deserted him, so Merrin seeks solace instead in archaeology, which he studied at Oxford. During a trip through Cairo, Merrin is approached by mysterious antiquities collector, Semelier (Cross), to join a British archaeological dig in the remote Turkana region of Kenya.

The team has unearthed a Christian Byzantine church believed to contain a priceless ancient relic which Semelier hopes to claim before the British learn of its existence.

Merrin duly accepts but when he arrives at the site, he is stunned to find the church in inexplicably pristine condition, almost as if it had been buried on the day it was completed. Descending into the cavernous interior of the building with young Vatican priest Father Francis (D'Arcy), Merrin unwittingly wakes a terrifying force, which haunts the catacombs beneath the church.

Madness descends on the local villagers and a contingent of British soldiers is sent to guard the excavation. Local doctor Sarah (Scorupco) struggles to cope with the mounting casualties, including eight-year-old Joseph (Sweeney), who seems to have been possessed by the evil spirit.

Exorcist: The Beginning is an aberration, unworthy of any association with William Friedkin's seminal classic. Alexi Hawley's screenplay is so preposterous that it teeters precariously on the brink of unintentional hilarity. Skarsgard looks hot and bothered, though sadly not about his lifeless performance, while Scorupco and D'Arcy (strangling an American accent) go through the motions.

I pray that everyone involved in this farrago will atone for their sins by never again sullying the good name of The Exorcist.

DAMON SMITH