Scott Derrickson’s The Exorcism of Emily Rose is one part William Friedkin’s The Exorcist and two parts Stanley Kramer’s Inherit the Wind. Not only are we given a feature in which, ultimately, religion is put on the stand, but the genesis for such is due to a case of possession which culminated in death. What results is a well-written, patient work whose terror lay, not in its imagery, but the logistic consequences of the case. In this regard, The Exorcism of Emily Rose shares less with Friedkin’s production for it departs from the exploitation of its audience in favor of Kramer’s intellectual engagement with its viewer. In short, gorehounds beware for, as one critic complained, Derrickon’s courtroom procedural is very talky . . .

Father Moore (Tom Wilkinson) is put on trial for negligent homicide after a member of his congregation, 19 year-old Emily Rose (Jennifer Carpenter in an outstanding performance), dies as a consequence of the former having attempted an exorcism in the wake of medical care. The prosecution, helmed by Ethan Thomas (Campbell Scott), claims that Moore’s instruction for Emily to quit taking her prescription–Gambuterol, a psychotropic drug used to counteract the simultaneous effects of epilepsy and schizophrenia–led to her demise. The defense, led by Erin Bruner (Laura Linney), posits the notion that the deceased’s diagnosis wasn’t conclusive before presenting the theory that her late client may well have, in fact, been possessed.

The true craft of Derrickson’s feature is its artful script by the director and Paul Harris Boardman. Never once during the proceedings is an honest, natural question eschewed in order to maintain the tension of the work. This becomes all the more remarkable when one takes into account that the film treats and addresses its risqué premise fairly throughout its nearly two-hour duration, for the film does nothing short of putting religion on trial by way of pitting reason, symbolized by the practice of medicine, against established belief.

Many complain that the work is mislabeled as a horror film. From a colloquial, traditional perspective, yes, for The Exorcism of Emily Rose does not house the requisite gore or malicious antagonist which we come to expect when someone mentions the genre. However, the film’s essence is indeed horrific for the trial entails two arguments, one for belief, the other, at its base, against it. As such, the atheist as well as the theist have vested interests in what follows: For the former, the case might provide evidence that God does not exist while the apprehension in the latter hinges upon the possibility that the person may be wrong (as the agnostic, by definition, eagerly weighs what is being presented). (Granted, the atheist’s potential defeat might, at first, seem minor compared to the theist’s lost immortality, but such overlooks a rationalist’s stock in reason.) It is with this that Derrickson’s feature is hauntingly suspenseful for the polarity sets both theological planks on pins and needles throughout as the task which both attorneys are faced with seem nearly impossible: The defense must prove that possession took place, therefore that such legitimately exists (ergo, God exists), whereas the prosecution must substantiate that reason, in the guise of medicine, can stand alone, ergo, that there is no God.

Refreshingly, though Bruner is our central, sympathetic focus, Thomas is not, unlike so many one-sided courtroom affairs, mere set dressing. The latter is permitted to argue as adamantly as the former, albeit to a dogmatic degree at times but, to be sure, his fervor is legitimized considering he is having to present a case against God while being a believer in the nation founded under the Almighty (made all the more ironic given his historic surname).

Though the film opens with what we at first are led to believe to be an irrefutable circumstance supporting atheism–via a botched exorcism that, not only failed to remove a demon from a victim, but killed her–we quickly realize what will become the key to Derrickson’s success is his ability to straddle the argumentative fence for, shortly thereafter, he posits the possibility that the culprit may not be guilty. Admirably, after his conceit is succinctly symbolized by a priest being met by a doctor, he goes on to wisely incorporate flashbacks by which to tell Emily’s tale, thereby providing a perpetual forum of unreliability. Barring overt fabrication, each testimony is subject to subjective memory recall and observer bias as possible coincidence fills the remaining void. As such, a watch and clock stops at the exact time of Emily’s possession, three o’clock, which could be chance or the Devil’s hand, just as the same potential circumstances surround a key witness’s timely death. An audio tape of the exorcism, given the Church’s interest in how it is being perceived, could well be forged. Yet, amid all of the uncertainty, the dialectic masterstroke of what at first seems to be a one-sided argument in favor of the prosecution comes when it is suggested that Emily’s prescription disabled the victim from being able to aptly respond to Moore, thereby rendering her immune to the exorcism proper, and, thus, ironically causing her death. However, the counter claim is succinctly issued that Gambuterol has a cumulative effect and, as such, hadn’t been allowed to have a discernable, beneficial affect.

In a work which unabashedly declares the unexplainable facets of religion to be sensationalism par excellence before refuting the claim while concurrently hinging the rebuttal upon ambiguity and explicitly citing that such is taking place, The Exorcism of Emily Rose becomes nothing less than a masterpiece for it never unnecessarily convolutes while refusing to be conveniently dismissive. Perhaps better than any director before, Scott Derrickson provides his viewer with the reason why reasonable doubt leads to the Kierkegaardian Leap of Faith as, all the while, like a veteran filmmaker, he leaves each and every conclusion to his audience. As such, no one can say that Derrickson isn’t attempting to creating challenging cinema for, in the process, he offers the notion that possession, if real, could well be God’s attempt to provide evidence of His existence and, as such, is thereby suggesting that the deity may well have an inferiority complex . . . .

-Egregious Gurnow