In my experience, there are two kinds of Christians: those who accept the presence of the supernatural in the lives of mortals, and those who don’t. By “supernatural” I mean more than just God; even the most intellectual and rationalistic Christians believe in God in some way. Traditionally the supernatural world includes not only God, but angels, demons, spirits of varying benevolence, the presence of those long dead, visions, and other manifestations of life beyond the seen. Rationalistic Christians find the other sort to be simplistic and superstitious, ignorantly insisting on believing in things science long ago discredited. Supernatural Christians (for lack of a better term) find rationalistic faith to be shallow, colorless, and willfully ignorant of spiritual realities which enhance or threaten their lives. The film The Exorcism of Emily Rose suggests that this division might happen along Catholic-Protestant lines, but I find the dichotomy present within every tradition.
That is part of the conflict in Emily Rose. This is a courtroom drama—in part—featuring the trial of a Catholic priest, Father Richard Moore. Moore is being prosecuted by a Methodist and defended by an ambitious agnostic. The case centers around the death of 19-year-old Emily Rose, a college student who thought herself possessed by six demons. Six very famous demons, I might add, including Lucifer himself. The question in the trial revolves around whether Father Moore, in advocating a spiritual rather than medical course of treatments, endangered Emily’s life and ultimately caused her death. The prosecution, of course, claims that Emily’s symptoms were the result of epileptic psychosis. The defense has a two-pronged strategy—to discredit the medical diagnosis and to proffer the possibility that Father Moore’s spiritual diagnosis was, at the very least, a possibility. Not necessarily a fact, but a potential explanation which would be acceptable to most people in every culture throughout history. After all, it is not the belief, but the disbelief in supernatural events which is the anomaly, historically and anthropologically speaking.
The film’s emotional arcs run parallel to each other in the intertwining of the journeys of two women. One, of course, is Emily Rose, and her courageous (if horrifying) struggle against the forces which have taken control of her. Emily is alternatively played with wholesome sweetness and terrified intensity by Jennifer Carpenter. Carpenter’s utter lack of inhibition marks her as a young actress of terrific potential. She contorts her body and face into extraordinary positions and expressions—inhuman, one might call them. Emily is under the influence of either demons or mental illness, depending upon how one reads the story, and neither of those is kind to the human body they inhabit. Whatever lives inside Emily is ugly and feeds on pain, and Carpenter holds nothing back in showing us the terrible reality of Emily’s tortured life.
The other woman whose journey we see is Erin Bruner, Father Moore’s defense attorney. She’s a cynical, ambitious, hard-drinking agnostic on her way up the ladder, always on the lookout for the next rung. She takes Father Moore’s case with the expectation that it will be good for her career, and in the course of the trial, learns more than she expected about the spiritual life. It would be an exaggeration to say that she comes to faith, but she does come to the understanding that there might be more going on in the world than she knew. Laura Linney plays Bruner with little restraint or subtlety, but her transitions and growth are, at least, evident and easy for viewers to follow.
Cameron Scott, as the believing but rationalistic district attorney, is an excellent if low-key foil to the complete conviction of Father Moore and the struggles of Erin Bruner. He articulates all the reasons why we should doubt the supernatural explanations, he personifies the resistance we feel toward the possibility of accepting a spiritual diagnosis over a medical one, and he reminds us of the dangers inherent in disregarding or overriding medical science. He is less a three dimensional character than a symbol of twentieth century enlightenment rationalism—a mindset which we all participate in, no matter what our religious leanings. Even if we believe demonic possession to be possible, the fact is that most of the time there is an alternative explanation offered by medical science, with its corresponding course of treatment. Scott’s character offers the articulation to the philosophical conflict at the center of the film.
The heart of the story, however, lies in the character of Father Richard Moore, played with unassuming strength and grace by Oscar winner Tom Wilkinson. Here is a true hero, laying down his life for the one in his care, even after she is dead. He has very little regard for his own fate; rather, he is quietly insistent that Emily’s story be told. He is stoic, gentle, and fatherly in the best sense, even toward his defense attorney, whose job it is to protect him. The roles are reversed, leaving a surprised Bruner going to Moore for comfort and advice. The result is that no matter what we think of Moore’s choices in regard to Emily Rose, we become convinced of his complete sincerity and commitment to her and to the decisions they made together in good faith.
Director Scott Derrickson and writers Derrickson and Paul Harris Boardman explore the possibilities of this experience with balance and care. As a believer myself, I appreciate the respect that believers are afforded in this film. One gets the sense that even if Moore and the Rose family are deluded, they are good, and they are making the most sensible choices they know how with the information given to them. We may doubt the choice, but we do not doubt the integrity of the characters. This is a far cry from Hollywood’s usual portrayal of Christians—especially Catholic priests—as power-hungry, abusive, manipulative, weak or not-too-bright. I know a lot of priests, and most of them are very much like Father Moore—good, loving, and committed people. It was a relief to see such a realistic and affirming portrayal.
Good story-telling skill balances out other moments of heavy-handedness that might have distracted from the narrative. The film is way too dark—visually, not emotionally. Long, vaguely lit hallway scenes backed by spooky music cue the fear response in the viewer, but it’s just a programmed response. We know even as we are having that response that our buttons are being pushed with little finesse. When creepy things start happening in the middle of the night, nobody turns lights on, and so the invisibility of the threats takes the place of the threats themselves. Lots of heavy breathing and facial close-ups take the place of true exploration of the spiritual threats that may or may not plague the main characters. The fact is, the true fear in this film comes not from the wide-angle shots or squinting into cinematic darkness trying to figure out what’s going on. The true fear, for believers or agnostics, is the suggestion that even if demonic possession isn’t what happened in this story, it could have been. It’s a possibility.
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