If you take a close look at the promotional material for Immaculate, the new nunsploitation horror film starring Sydney Sweeney, now in theaters, you’ll notice a pattern forming. The online advertisements are specifically talking up the movie’s ending, parroting quotes from early reviews about “twisted, gory violence” in its final act, which “solidifies Sweeney as a top-tier final girl.”

Focusing on the latter half of the movie is a wise decision, considering that the ending of Immaculate is the best part of the entire 89-minute film. The movie’s first 70 minutes are spent recycling predictable jump scares and dealing out trite religious horror tropes that you’ve undoubtedly seen done better somewhere else. For a movie that practically touts itself as the resurrection of religious horror, these monotonous beats feel more like the Old Testament. That is, until an equally foreseeable twist gives way to a thrilling conclusion that almost redeems the film entirely. This final bit of savage brutality can’t quite save Immaculate from its own crucifixion, but it does make for an undeniable showcase of Sweeney’s talents, and demonstrates just how much a great ending can do for a terrible film.

(Warning: Spoilers for Immaculate below.)

If you caught the four biblical puns in that last paragraph, you’re welcome—but I didn’t just throw those in there for no reason. The matter of Christ’s crucifixion is at the center of Immaculate, which is why it’s so easy to see the movie’s big twist coming over the hills of the Italian countryside where Sweeney’s character Sister Cecelia is staying.

After experiencing a brush with death when she was younger (look out for the cheap fright where director Michael Mohan thrusts an image of young Cecelia, drowning under ice, in front of you like a 2000s Youtube poop jump scare), Cecelia found herself called to God. Her accident was quickly followed by becoming a postulant, and the series of events made international news, with word spreading to Italy. A few years later, Cecelia is beckoned by Father Sal Tedeschi (Álvaro Morte) to take her vows at his convent. Despite some erratic behavior from her soon-to-be fellow sisters upon her arrival, Cecelia is too blinded by her love of God and excitement to serve to give credence to anything strange.

On her first night at the convent, Cecelia receives a tour from Father Tedeschi, which concludes with a look at the abbey’s prized possession: a nail that was used to crucify Jesus—really. For some odd reason, Cecelia doesn’t think it’s strange that a major religious artifact could exist with no public knowledge. (I guess with all that biblical book learning, she was too busy to watch Raiders of the Lost Ark!) After her private show at the Italian cloister location of Ripley’s Believe It or Not, Cecelia scampers off to bed, where she has a night filled with nightmares and more jump scares.

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If only Cecelia had paid closer attention to the bizarre things happening around her, she might’ve been quicker on the uptake when she awoke the next day pregnant. Yes, after only one night at the convent, and after taking a vow of chastity, Cecelia begins to experience signs of a mother-to-be after conception. Some brief medical tests (done in-house at the convent, another glaring sign of nefarious dealings afoot) confirm: Cecelia is pregnant with the second immaculate conception.

Toward the end of her pregnancy—and after what feels like a million shots of birds flying into windows, hands popping out of nowhere in dark rooms, and faces in mirrors—Cecelia finally begins to realize that something is wrong. She cleverly kills a chicken and stains her white dressing gown with its blood to fake a miscarriage and convince Father Tedeschi and a cardinal to take her to a real hospital, but her plan is thwarted by a nun who finds the hen’s body and stops them. Enraged, Tedeschi puts Cecelia in isolation, which she escapes by starting a bloody killing spree, beating the nun who foiled her scheme to death with a crucifix.

Before she can escape the grounds of the monastery, Cecelia is caught by Tedeschi, who takes her to the ancient catacombs below the structure to reveal his master plan. That nail that was used to kill Jesus contained bits of Christ’s genetic code, left over on a piece of iron after thousands of years. Tedeschi, who told Cecelia during their first meeting that he was a failed biologist who converted to the collar, used his scientific background to crack Christ’s genetic cipher. Armed with Jesus’ DNA pattern, the not-so-good Father and a crew of devout sisters, dedicated to seeing the return of Christ, called multiple young nuns to be heavenly hosts for the second coming. All of these experiments failed, killing the fetuses and plunging the convent’s sisters into depression, until their greatest project arrived. Tedeschi determined that God saved Cecelia, and wanted her to be the mother of his second son.

You might be thinking, “Surely, with a twist so unsurprising—yet so delightfully gonzo nonetheless—screenwriter Andrew Lobel has a satisfying explanation to drive home the horror at the heart of Immaculate.” And if that is what you’re hoping, may God rest your soul like he did mine, because you won’t get that clarification you so desperately seek. Tedeschi’s motivations aren’t entirely obvious. Does he want to prove his love to God, so God saves him? And isn’t being a man of the cloth typically good enough for that? Or, is he just some freaky biologist who wants to play God and wreak havoc? An answer to any one of these questions could make Immaculate a much more frightening film. But what spurred Tedeschi’s experiments is about as clear as how they impregnated Cecelia with Jesus’ genetic code, which is to say: Not at all.

Yet as the already shaky film starts to destabilize even further, Mohan and Lobel wisely lean into making Immaculate the Sydney Sweeney show. Cecelia locks Tedeschi inside his lab after dousing the place with gasoline. His work is destroyed, but Tedeschi narrowly makes it out alive, hunting Cecelia through the dark catacombs. While all of this is happening, Cecelia’s water breaks, and she goes into labor with the purported savior. Her medical condition makes it a little hard for Cecelia to remain inconspicuous below the earth, so when she sees a tunnel of light, she makes a beeline for it. Tedeschi tries to stop her, but after a brief struggle, Cecelia kills him and sends him back underground to burn.

Safely outside and away from the convent, Cecelia gives birth. It’s in this moment where Immaculate boasts its most visceral, memorable, and frankly stunning shot. Sweeney, whose face is covered in blood and held in a tight closeup, screams into the camera. It’s a harrowing moment of catharsis, fear, and maternal bodily pain colliding at once, and you can practically feel each of these sensations separately as you stare, aghast, at Sweeney’s face. As much as I didn’t care for Immaculate’s rote scares, I’d happily pay the price of admission just to see this moment on the big screen one more time. Well, alright, I’d go on a $5 Tuesday.

But what becomes of the baby? Oh, I’m so glad you asked. After it pops out of Cecelia, she brings the umbilical cord to her mouth and bites it apart with her teeth. The newborn can be heard cooing and crying softly on the ground, out of frame. Its wails sound vaguely inhuman, suggesting that God was not so happy with Tedeschi’s desecrating the legacy of his only son. Whether it’s a devilish abomination or just an unfortunate work of biological meddling, Cecelia knows that it is ungodly. She trudges over to a large stone nearby, walks back to whatever is lying on the ground (which we never see), and bludgeons it to death. Fin.

While this ending will upset those who want to see a creepy CGI demon child—there were incessant whispers of, “What is it?” among the crowd at the film’s SXSW world premiere—Sweeney’s bravura performance should be enough to quell most satanic rubberneckers. I’ll even happily admit that, after donning my habit and praying for the film to hurry up and end around the 70-minute mark, I walked out of the theater taken with the film’s ending. It’s the one part of Immaculate that is as bold, brave, and fucking weird as the film’s marketing purports it to be. That big swing might not be enough to save the movie, but it’ll at least keep Immaculate lingering in horror movie purgatory, forever splitting down the middle between those who love it and those who deride it.