It's the almighty himself, and he's one angry dude. Naturally, Frankie doesn't associate her recent traumas with mom's little vacation souvenir, and for much of the movie, the viewer is also unclear about the connection. And then there's the whole puzzling look of the film, perhaps the most liquid movie without a shark ever shot. Gore oozes from statues and seeps from strategic points on Frankie. Water swishes around the bathtub and pink, blood-tinged basins.
Tequila flows at a club, sacramental wine at a church.
And it rains. Oh how it rains. Funny how we've never heard about it before, but Pittsburgh apparently has a monsoon season. Vatican City and little Brazilian towns may glow in the warm afternoon sun, but in Pennsylvania, it's always a high-precipitation day. There might be some deep spiritual allegory here, or it might just be an excuse to keep Arquette wet.