The Scary Nun. She is onscreen for five seconds.

I finally got around to watching “The Devil Inside,” a “Blair Witch” type of “found footage” flick that has been declared the Worst Movie of All Time by the kind of mouth-breathers who worry about what Kanye tweeted about Taylor.

The film is a supposed documentary that follows a young woman to Rome, where her mother is being treated for either demonic possession or serious whack-a-doodleness, take your pick.

As with any such setup, there are long stretches of boredom as the actors utter dramatic lines such as “We have to talk” and “Are you all right?”

But the actual demon stuff is pretty good, even if the demon uses all the lines that were cut out of “The Exorcist.”

Some demon action 

Two things enraged the couch critics:

A deus ex machina ending, in which everybody probably dies in a car crash

And a title at the end advising viewers, if they want to get the final low-down, to go to a website that is — surprise — a marketing tool.

Why these strategies bother people so much is a mystery to me. The car crash is no stupider than the rest of the flick, so why, all of a sudden, has the willing suspension of disbelief gone out the window? Hell, a car is a machine. How about props for being true to ancient Greek theater tradition?

And as for the website that turns out to be a marketing entity…what exactly were people expecting? Golly, a website used to sell things you don’t need or want. What an intrusion. Like the biggest rock band in the world getting slammed for giving away an album of new material — and clogging up everybody’s iPhone, making it difficult to follow what Taylor tweeted about Kanye.

Worst Movie of All Time? Are you nuts? “The Devil Inside” is a half-decent thriller that requires extensive use of the fast-forward button to get through the “acting.”

“Are you all right?” “Wait, I say that.” “Say what?” “Are you all right?” “Wait, I say that.”

It is no “Manos: Hands of Fate,” shot in the dark outside El Paso with a limping star who can’t speak and whose pants are falling down.

It is no “Bloodsucking Freaks,” with an Italian cop movie grafted onto a hideous tale of a real-life Theatre of the Macabre, creating an extended non-sequitur.

And it is certainly no “Deathstalker II,” in which a frat boy in a furry loincloth takes on a wizard who was cut by the Village People for being too gay.

Love it or, as is far more likely, hate it, but don’t try to elevate “The Devil Inside” into the Pantheon of Poop. It is not nearly bad enough.