Exorcising More Than Demons

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I love it when movies write their own reviews. Take, for example, the following courtroom scene from “The Exorcism of Emily Rose,” where Erin Bruner (Laura Linney) defends Father Richard Moore (Tom Wilkinson) against charges that he killed young Emily Rose (Jennifer Carpenter) by refusing her medical treatment. Arguing that Emily was, in fact, possessed by demons, and quite beyond any medical care, she calls to the stand an Ivy League expert in demonic possession (Shohreh Aghdashloo). Wise Dr. Adani backs up her case with quotes from … Carlos Castaneda.

“Objection!” barks the prosecuting attorney (Campbell Scott as Ethan Thomas).

“On what grounds?” demands the judge (Mary Beth Hurt).

“Uh, how about silliness?”

Exactly.

Based on a true story, “The Exorcism of Emily Rose” argues for the existence of God by showing us the devil. Or does it? Was Emily, as the prosecutor claims, merely possessed by an extreme case of “psychotic epileptic disorder?” Largely staged as a courtroom drama, with horror-flick flashbacks to Emily’s ordeal, the movie makes a half-hearted attempt at even-handedness, allowing viewers to make their own diagnosis.

Tibetan monks, we learn, activate both sets of vocal cords in their chants, which could explain why Emily seems to speak in two voices at once. Her knowledge of ancient languages may derive from Bible school studies. Shall we credit Mel Gibson for her fluent Aramaic?

Such silliness aside, the film’s sympathies are about as fair and balanced as those on Fox News: Every emotional, rhetorical, and stylistic cue is designed to side us with Father Moore’s belief system. But fear not, secular humanists. The opportunism of “Emily Rose” is far outweighed by its absurdity. Making Bruner agnostic and Thomas a man of God is about as challenging an idea as the movie can offer.

Prestige casting and competent craftsmanship prevent this from being a first-rate bad movie, but it comes awfully close. “There are forces surrounding this trial,” warns Father Moore, “dark, powerful forces!” Emily’s ex-boyfriend appears on the stand to declare how “She woke me up to things I never felt before!” Here is a movie in which Lucifer himself, unsatisfied with making a girl eat bugs, decides to fly across town and haunt the kitchen of a defense lawyer. With priorities like that, how scary can the guy really be?

***

Meet the players of “Cote d’Azur.” Marc (Gilbert Melki) and Beatrix (Valeria Bruni-Tedeschi) are a Parisian couple whiling away the summer at their Mediterranean beach house. Their children include 20-something Laura (Sabrina Seyvecou), and sullen teenage Charly (Romain Torres). Joining them is Charly’s best friend Martin (Edouard Collin), a fellow vacationer named Mathieu (Jacques Bonnaffe), and Michael (Yannick Baudin), the local plumber.

Got that? Okay. Now say hello to their crisscrossing agendas. Mom and dad think Charly is gay, and so does Michael, who tries to pick him up at the local gay cruising spot. Charly ends up there in pursuit of Martin, who is gay, and in love with him. Mathieu, meanwhile, is arranging ever more brazen rendezvous with Beatrix, his lover. And Marc? Busy weed whacking in the garden – and thinking about his former lover, Michael. Laura has long since climbed on a motorcycle with her hunky boyfriend for some off-screen hanky-panky.

As you might have guessed, “Cote d’Azur” is a classic French sex farce done up in contemporary mores. There will be many slammed doors, comedic misunderstandings, midnight trysts, and hectic comings and goings before everything wraps up in a big tolerant hug and musical number.

Weird thing is, the movie plays it straight (so to speak). After the promise of the opening credits – a breezy animation full of quirky sea creatures and popsicle-colored titles – the movie drains of visual zest, settling into some rather drab cinematography and a peculiar indifference to the natural glories of the setting. Other than Mr. Bonnaffe’s mischievous eyes and frisky limbs, the treatment of character is similarly downplayed, with little of the theatrical verve one would expect from the genre.

“Cote d’Azur” is sensitive and clever, and you can’t help regret the lack of a vibrant aesthetic. In writing the screenplay, filmmakers Olivier Ducastel and Jacques Martineau have said they “tried to find a tone that was something between Jacques Demy, whose work is very punchy, and Rohmer, who is very funny.” Mission not quite accomplished, but close enough to make for a pleasant late-summer diversion. Were the ambitions of their eye as high as their pen, they might have achieved a lot more than that.

What To See This Weekend

A History of Violence (Museum of the Moving Image, 718-784-4520) David Cronenberg’s ingenious new head-spinner is perfectly enjoyable as a strange sort of genre affair; something along the lines of “Fargo” meets “Far From Heaven.” It’s a far greater film than either of those, and much more complicated than it seems. Scratch the surface and out spills a fascinating analysis of the contemporary American psyche – and a cunning masterwork every bit the equal of “Videodrome,” “Dead Ringers,” or “Crash.” The master himself will introduce a special preview screening September 13.

Notre Musique (Anthology Film Archives, 212-505-5181) Not the greatest of Jean-Luc Godard’s late-phase cine-essays, but the only one that could make you cry.


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