It’s hard to say which looms larger for director Dante Tomaselli: issues with his mother or with the Catholic church. In “Desecration,” Tomaselli’s muddled and impenetrable mixture of Holy Mary Oedipal Complexii, a concerned priest informs Bobby’s father and grandmother that the young man is flunking out of parochial school primarily because he sleeps all the time. Grandma explains that Bobby’s mother, who was, according to his father, a “nut,” died when he was four years old. While this explains Bobby’s interminable dreams of a nun, presumably his mom, running along or peering through a wrought iron fence under a funky-colored sky, it doesn’t explain why this takes up the overwhelming majority of the movie. Nor does it, or anything or anyone in the film explain why we should care. All moody funky art-crap visuals and no cohesive narrative to speak of, the only thing desecrated in “Desecration” is the rapidly fading art of storytelling.
