Every few years, a movie is made that shocks audiences with its taboo antics, sexual liberation or dark psyche.

With “Th‚rŠse,” people will be talking about — and running away from — the movie’s maniacally disastrous offerings for years to come.

The film portrays the short and ill-fated life of Saint Th‚rŠse of Lisieux, who took the ultimate step of devotion in the Carmelite sisterhood when she was 15 years old.

The film showcases Th‚rŠse’s devotion to God as she struggles with her ever-separating family, bitter nuns and a fatal case of tuberculosis.

Usually, the motivation in showcasing someone’s life in a film is to glorify the subject’s heroism, occasionally supported by “creative license” to add an entertaining element.

“Th‚rŠse” not only made no attempt to make this film entertaining, but the dry and insubstantial turning points seemed to actually trivialize the status of her sainthood.

Saint Joan of Arc had to endure being burned at the stake, and Saint Mary Magdalen had to watch Jesus slowly die on the cross. From watching this film, one might think all Saint Th‚rŠse had to do was withstand her sisters leaving home, some school bullying and the shock that Santa Claus didn’t actually exist. Under these standards, anyone could be considered for canonization.

The only aspect more trivializing is this film’s message that anyone with a video camera and a folding chair is capable of directing a full-length feature. The comatose smiles, abrupt cutaways and arrogant stage acting give it an aura of a Hallmark card and “The Sound of Music” mixed in with a little bit of eternal damnation.

Seemingly uninformed in the ways of working a tripod, director Leonardo Defilippis gives the audience a clear view of everyone’s feet by routinely decapitating his on-screen characters with the edge of the film screen. Yet his poor direction is not much of a distraction because the audience has already been battered with the unnatural and awkward acting.

To add to the torture, the film’s non-existent story line is edited with a nauseating randomness, and all plot holes in the script are conveniently filled with cutaways of Th‚rŠse praying.

Audience members of this film who are expecting another “Passion of the Christ” are going to receive the immediate disappointment of an amateur flare-up that should’ve been left on the cutting room floor.