Law and Horror

Here’s one for you.

A few nights ago, I watched The Exorcism of Emily Rose.  In the movie, all the bad shit happens at 3am.  And when I say bad shit, I mean everything from draining watch batteries to brutally raping young bible thumpers.  I wrote four pages, in which I viciously mocked Satan for being a big fucking pussy, and then I passed out on a pile of filthy clothes and neglected to save the document.

I passed out because, recently, I’ve been drinking large amounts of vodka.  Yes, this is a problem, but only because I have a problem with you. 

As I lay there, sleeping like a drunken baby and stuffing a pair of urine-stained underwear in my mouth whilst dreaming of some former girlfriend, the four page review flickered innocently on my computer screen.  I had given the movie two stars, tearing it apart because, though somewhat entertaining, it left a strange and metallic taste in my mouth whenever there was an exciting plot twist and I greedily gulped vodka from my pewter “HBO’s OZ” mug.  Then, at precisely 3am, I was woken by the shocking sound of my otherwise reliable computer having a shutdown meltdown freakout blowup.  I lay there, staring at the clock, waiting for the reboot, and, five minutes later, I went into Word.  Was my four page review recovered?  No.  And this from my super-sensitive MS Word that recovers blank documents.  Not since I’ve bought this computer have I lost a document.  But Emily Rose?  Gone.  At 3am. 

It’s somewhat freakish and bizarre, in the Robert Graves study of coincidence way, and I must assume that Satan is in my life.  Therefore, I’ll add a star to the movie, bringing it in at three stars and a vodka-addled recommendation under the chick flick horror category.  I won’t turn around and change my opinion because, no matter what Satan does to me, he is still a fucking pussy in the movie.

I can’t defend him, even if he reboots my computer every five minutes.  How does he fuck with people in the movie?  He stops their clocks.  He drains the batteries of their generic wall clocks.  He is an “ominous” presence in your dark living room.  Sure he rapes Emily Rose, but he can’t do much else.  The movie starts after Emily has died from her exorcism.  We’re off to court!  The People v. Emily’s do-gooder priest who “must tell Emily’s story” so that all of us – yes, you and me and Satan – can know the sacrifice she made (“based on a true story,” you can visit Emily’s grave).  Emily’s “sacrifice” comes from a dream she told her priest on her deathbed where she was called to heaven, met the Virgin Mary, and was told that she can die and leave her possessed body behind or she can stay and suffer for another hour or two and make the great sacrifice of going to glory and heaven at 4am instead of 3am.  So…

Well, anyway, if I were in the back booth at the bar I’d ask – When did Mary become God?  How’d all that come to pass?  Is she the fourth part of the Trinity?

So we follow the course of Laura Linney (Love Actually, Mystic River, Mothman Prophecies) who plays the “agnostic” who must defend Emily’s priest.  She doesn’t believe in shit…except, apparently, for Satan.  Because she sure gets creeped out easily, and she sure believes in being guided by a more powerful hand, and she sure respects Da Vinci Code mysticism at the drop of a hat.  See, if you don’t believe, then you aren’t really all agog when your clock stops at 3am.  You go, hmmm, fucking clock.  Wonder if I have a D battery around?

She guides us through frequent flashbacks to Emily’s possession which are, actually, more entertaining than the modern day scenes.  Of course, they can’t tell that story straight, because they’ve ripped The Exorcist so much that you’re waiting for pea soup…but, alas, all you get are shiny contact lenses and spider-eating.

Tom Wilkinson (Batman Begins, and an excellent turn in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, as well as every other movie you’ve seen) plays the troubled Father Moore, Emily’s exorcist who now faces jail time for her murder.  But, of course, we all know that he’s an innocent man.  It’s okay if Satan slams Emily against the wall, takes a tumble out of the window, and otherwise commits acts of teenage girl self-abuse. 

Wilkinson is, as always, wonderful.  So wonderful that you wonder what Laura Linney’s doing there.  Laura, Tom.  Tom, Laura.  Laura, go home.

Campbell Scott, another actor you’ve also seen in every movie, plays the stoic religious prosecutor.  He’s been selected by the DA – whose staff includes fucking Aaron Douglas, who plays Tyrol on Battlestar Galactica, and the, yes, satanically beautiful ChelahHorsdal, who you can see totally nude in Showtime’s current Masters of Horror series.  And I don’t use the word nude lightly.  I’m 31 and single.  When I say nude, you can trust me, podjo. 

These three battle it out in the courtroom of love, where a pleasantly mixed jury represents just about everyone in America.  As I said, that’s you and me and Satan.

Jennifer Carpenter is Emily, who actually is a religious nut in real life, but she does a great job playing the Midwest dirt scrabbler gone evil.  Raped by Satan, she slowly devolves into Scary Girl Number Nine and, complete with cracking her spine, staring with unblinking eyes and talking in a guttural voice, she delivers.  She’s the only reason the movie gets any stars from me.  I’ll tell you, it’s worth a watch because the shit they have her do is just terrific. 

Where we fall is with Laura Linney’s journey from agnosticism to thinking that something is up.  Poor, dumb Linney is told, from Wilkinson’s usual position of the misguided and corrupt father figure, that “there are forces surrounding this trial… dark, powerful forces.”

Linney then begins to experience mild supernatural phenomena that follow the case, and Wilkinson’s warnings, to the letter…and we’re supposed to jump.  But, why?  She’s immersed in the trial for weeks, her job is on the line, she’s under intense pressure.  We’d all start to hallucinate.  And, unfortunately, that’s what you’re thinking when you should be thinking – is Satan in her kitchen eating tangerines?!?!

And that’s also the problem,  Satan fucks up Emily, and it’s freaky.  When he finally reveals himself in a barn, animals going nuts, Emily’s family shattered, a storm blowing across the midnight plains, I was sitting in the dark hugging myself and giggling in the ecstatic rush that only a horror flick can deliver.  But when Linney does her best Jodi Foster and explores her house at 3am, after all of her clocks have stopped, and the ominous music plays as the camera slowly pans over her blah living room, what are we thinking?  We’re thinking, Laura, you need to put more locks on your door, because you’re an 80 pound woman living alone.  When’s the next flashback?

We’re supposed to question whether or not Satan is real, I suppose.  Even then – even in scary Emily – Satan seems ineffectual.  At least in The Exorcist, Satan had some punch.  Fuck off priest or I’ll vomit all over you!  With Emily Rose, Satan says, fuck off priest…i-i-if you don’t mind.  Sorry.  Terribly sorry.  Excuse me, I need to descale the teapot now.

If all Satan can do is be scary – then bring him on.

Nacho’s vodka rating:  Three stars.  One for scary Jenny Carpenter, one for effective flashback freakouts, and one because Satan erased my old review

No tits, one terrific pedestrian killing, a showdown in a barn that ranks as one of my top Fight Satan and Fail scenes, Laura Linney drinking in every single scene, and ChelahHorsdal.  Check it out!