Yet things drastically change after she receives a rosary from her vacationing mother. It turns out her mom unknowingly bought it from a street urchin who himself just stole it from a dead Brazilian priest's coffin. Suddenly Frankie is afflicted by stigmata, crucifixion wounds resembling those suffered by Christ. While hospital workers, who treat her nail-like puncture wounds to the wrists, believe her to be epileptic, a priest who witnesses a later, dramatic crucifixion-like event on a subway car thinks differently and contacts the Vatican.

As such, Cardinal Daniel Houseman (JONATHAN PRYCE) sends Father Andrew Kiernan (GABRIEL BYRNE), a renowned, scientist/priest to investigate the case. Having just returned from the Brazilian church where the suspicious rosary was stolen and a statue bled from its eyes, Kiernan travels to Pittsburgh where he meets Frankie.

Although he immediately dismisses her symptoms due to her being an atheist, her continually developing wounds and subsequent possessed behavior make him think otherwise. His suspicions are further aroused when Houseman abruptly tries to close the case after Frankie writes some mysterious passages in a long lost biblical language.

From that point on, and with the aid of Petrocelli (RADE SERBEDGIA), an older excommunicated priest with an intimate knowledge of what the Church may be frightened of, Kiernan tries to figure out exactly what's happening while also being concerned with saving Frankie's life, particularly since no one has ever received all five of the stigmatic wounds.

Less often, but far more intriguing, are those occasional occurrences of people reportedly being stricken with stigmata. That is, they supposedly exhibit wounds reminiscent of those suffered by Christ during his crucifixion. While I don't personally recall ever hearing if any such case was actually verified, they certainly make for a compelling story.

Although such paranormal religious phenomena can often by scientifically explained, sometimes such occurrences or events are nothing but outright fraud committed by greedy people hoping to capitalize on everyday peoples' faith.

The same holds true for many movies that hope to make a quick buck off the public. They similarly take advantage of moviegoers -- who put their monetary faith into any latest release hoping to be entertained, moved, or in this case, scared by the offerings -- betting they won't smell a stinker before plunking down their money. That's particularly true for many horror films, such as the recently released and extremely overwrought but hardly frightening, "The Haunting."

Now the same can be said about "Stigmata," a religious-based horror film wannabe that's not remotely scary, unless one considers the direction, script, most of the acting and all of the bell and whistle technical merits that prove to be all flash and no substance.

All of which is too bad since the basic premise has plenty of potential. Although the plot initially looks like just a lame rip-off of "The Exorcist" -- which it somewhat is -- it does go a step beyond that by introducing a detective story of sorts into the proceedings. Unfortunately, the thrust of the investigating priest simply turns into the old "maverick cop butts heads with the system" story thread that certainly isn't particularly unique.

As such, it involves the determined man who continues his investigation not only because he's gotten involved with the subject, but also because his superiors have become suspiciously adamant about removing him from the case and shutting it down altogether.

While our initial uncertainty about why the Cardinal is determined to quell Kiernan's investigation, coupled with the question of why an atheist would be afflicted by stigmata peak one's interest, the film never builds on such intrigue. That's because director Rupert Wainwright (making his big budget film debut after helming TV commercials and music videos) is far more concerned with making this film look like "The Exorcist" as strained through an MTV filter than with delivering a suspenseful supernatural thriller or drama.

Thus, the film is filled with camera moves, quick cuts and symbolic imagery (such as a huge, but under lit and leaky loft filled with scores of candles, etc…) better suited for a music video than a major theatrical release. When combined with some of the worst editing and continuity I've witnessed in many, many years and the irritating soundtrack provided by Billy Corgan of The Smashing Pumpkins, the effect quickly becomes far more grating than spooky.

To make matters worse, the script by screenwriters Tom Lazarus (a television writer) and newcomer Rick Ramage is rather bad and often doesn't make any sense. While the plot proceeds in an overall chronological fashion, the events comprising it never feel congruous or urgent enough to make the overall film a compelling whole.

It also brings up several logic-based questions that never get answered. For instance, the reason why an atheist is afflicted by stigmata -- normally reserved only for the most devout followers -- is never satisfactorily explained (the fact that her mother sent her a dead priest's rosary just doesn't cut it).

Even if one buys into such an explanation, and considering that, as the movie states, having the stigmata is considered a gift from God, we never figure out why her possession -- by what is presumably the spirit of a benevolent priest -- turns into an "Exorcist" like event. If the priest was trying to prove his point about a new religious creed, acting like the devil in the body of an innocent woman and roughing up the one guy who can help you certainly isn't the smartest strategy.

We similarly never learn why Frankie's boyfriend never shows up again after their early roll in her bed or why her concerned friend Donna simply disappears about halfway through the proceedings. But then again who cares about such problems when the film has such a bitchin,' cool look and a pumping soundtrack designed to appease those who weren't even around when that shocking Linda Blair film was originally released. After all, image is everything, right?

Most of the performances don't help matters much. The only decent one comes from Gabriel Byrne ("The Man in the Iron Mask," "The Usual Suspects"), whose usual solemn demeanor works well for his role as the investigating priest. To his credit he manages to survive the script that progressively gets sillier as it goes on.

Patricia Arquette ("Lost Highway," "Flirting With Disaster") doesn't fare as well and in fact, turns in a horrible performance. While her underwritten role is responsible for a great deal of her floundering, she simply isn't believable as her character. To make matters worse, we're never given the chance to empathize with her condition and suffering, thus further distancing ourselves from the proceedings.

Supporting performances aren't much better. Jonathan Pryce ("Tomorrow Never Dies," "Ronin") doesn't give his character enough nebulous nuances to make him more than two- dimensional (any early glare he gives Byrne signals his true intentions and he never strays from that course of behavior or action).

Meanwhile, Nia Long ("In Too Deep," "Soul Food") can't do much with her supportive friend character (especially since she suddenly disappears halfway through the film) and Rade Serbedgia ("Mighty Joe Young," "The Saint") similarly has problems bringing any depth to his briefly seen character.

Overall, the film simply squanders a decent premise in favor of turning the proceedings into an elongated music video. As such, the filmmakers have simply forgotten/overlooked/ignored that the best supernatural thrillers are those that are understated (such as "The Sixth Sense") and not overblown, and that those that are religiously based usually work better when given a gothic and not MTV touch.

With enough bad elements -- directing, writing, editing and most of the acting -- to comprise a "How Not To Make a Film" seminar, this picture is likely to afflict moviegoers with its own cinematic version of the five stigmatic wounds.

Thus, if you're foolish enough to see this picture, don't be surprised if you suddenly find yourself experiencing abrasions from repeatedly rubbing your temples, a sore butt from shifting so many times in your seat, an aching wrist from continually checking your watch, ankle spasms from tapping your foot in disgust, and tired eyes from rolling them upwards a few too many times over the ludicrousness of the overall proceedings. We give "Stigmata" a 1 out of 10.