Tag: exorcism

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Film Festival Review

Review: The Old Ways (Dir. Christopher Alender, 2021)

GFF 2021 – FrightFest

After taking an assignment in Veracruz, Mexico Cristina (Brigitte Kali Canales) finds herself hooded and imprisoned in small cell. Despite begging to see her cousin Miranda (Andrea Cortés) and general protestations: “I’m an American… and a reporter” there she remains, shackled to the beautifully rendered and chalked wall, forced to ingest goat’s milk and pee in a bucket.

Keeping her ‘prisoner’ is local witch Luz (Julia Vera) and son Javi (Sal Lopez). Both are convinced that Cristina has picked up a demon that has hitched a ride on her soul following an illicit trip to the ruins of La Boca. As the days turn to night, Cristina tries to find ways to escape, however, soon she starts to feel that maybe she does ‘have it’ or something which is holding her hostage.

Exorcism films as a sub-genre are ten-a-penny and usually contain some white child/young woman losing the battle to find the devil within. Or there’s a haunting with a vengeful spirit/lost soul possessing a house or member of a family. Sometimes there are rites, rituals, a cassocked Priest, or perhaps a Rabbi, prayers, chants and holy water. It is refreshing therefore when a film tries to do something that little bit different with the well-worn tropes – Christopher Alender’s – making the leap from shorts and TV to his first feature – The Old Ways does just that (albeit with some old faithful). 

This is exorcism as repatriation. Cristina’s soul was up for grabs because she wasn’t quite fulfilled, living with trauma in a country she never quite belonged to, even if she didn’t realise it until now, drug addled and empty. She needs to commune with her forgotten heritage – one she was ripped from as a child – in order to heal and rid herself of the demon ‘Postekhi’. Her childhood trauma is never far from her mind revisiting her in flashbacks and nightly visits of a small boy.

The beauty of this film is its subtlety, it takes its time and doesn’t outstay its welcome which make the last fifteen/twenty minutes all the more forgiveable. There’s still fun to be had but it loses the nuance it worked so hard to build on and it is those moments which feel somewhat unnecessary. Joy-of-joys, however, the practical effects are great with the odd stomach churning moment, hair regurgitation is never pretty, and special mention goes to Luz’s make-up (courtesy of Josh and Sierra Russell); the cracking white face paint, the blood-red cross across the eyes and cataract lens is striking.

The cast of four play off each other brilliantly but it is Canales’ Cristina who is the standout. She doesn’t play her as a victim but survivor, fighting tooth and nail against what is or isn’t missing inside of her. This is less about restoration of a possessed soul – the snakes and milk symbols of renewal and rebirth – but more about reclamation of a heritage as a way of life and forging ahead. Forget the passive female protagonist bed-bound and helpless to prevent what’s happening, this one schools herself with a red leather bound book of demons (Jung’s manifesto of the same hue also detailed the recovery of a soul). There’s even humour with some amusing play-acting, bribery attempts, and the cell may be dotted in candles but there’s still an electric fan to help with the heat and humidity.

All-in-all The Old Ways is a smart and surprisingly subtle horror film. A really attractive looking feature which deftly goes beyond the expelling of demons, speaks to the migrant experience and embraces cultural significance (the Mariachi-instrumental of “La Bamba” is a nice touch). If you can take one thing from it it’s to never forget who you are or where you come from… and always invest in practical effects.

The Old Ways screens at GFF FrightFest from 5-8 March

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Review

Review: Deliver Us (Dir. Federica Di Giacomo, 2016)

Cinematically, films featuring possession and the subsequent exorcism are ten-a-penny yet Federica Di Giacomo’s award-winning documentary Deliver Us [Liberami] deems to show how the ancient ritual is performed in a contemporary world. In the opening scene, which is chilling, a woman sits with her back to camera as a Priest anoints her with holy water. After he places his vestments on her head she wails and screams for the “bastard” to leave her alone and an almost secondary voice chuckles “she’s mine now.” Even if you stumbled across this documentary with little to no knowledge, it’s safe to say, this incapsulates the subject matter succinctly and effectively.

Father Cataldo Migliazzo is a sought-after Priest (and exorcist) in Palermo, people travel 150-200 km to attend his tiny Church and receive a blessing. Disturbingly, a lot seem to think they’re possessed – a child who refuses to go to school has parents who believe “a devil is inside of him”. A woman begins to cough and have, what appears to be, a panic attack and is taken into confession and, delivered from evil, and this is all before mass even begins. When it does, the “possessed” within the congregation hiss, spit and speak in tongues.

There is little doubt to these people’s beliefs, yet as they discuss what symptoms they present with, it becomes apparent that a lot can be explained away via human biology or medical tests. These vary from swearing, masturbation, seizures, drug addiction and depression to memories of child abuse. One even lists cervical pains, dizziness and exhaustion, another an unhappy marriage while one mentions schizophrenic episodes, and what could be epilepsy in a teenage girl. Yet, at no point are they directed to a medical professional – in shepherding their flock you would think that there is a duty of care. This is made all the more ridiculous (and hypocritical) when we see Cataldo’s medication spread across a table top for various ailments, right after he exorcises by telephone no less.

Unsurprisingly, almost all of those exhibiting signs of oppression are women. The patriarchal domination and control of women within the Catholic Church has almost become sacrosanct and this unspoken insinuation that women are weaker and the only ones susceptible to mental health issues leaves a bad taste in the mouth. Made all the more galling by a Father Carmine who tells a recently exorcised woman to laugh more, so to prevent another episode of oppression.

While Di Giacomo brings a neutrality to proceeding, there’s little judgement one way or the other and her film never strays into questioning faith or belief, there’s humour without ridicule and a melancholy as we follow these lost souls desperate to “cure” themselves. It is all too easy to condemn what is not understood, as ancient tradition and modern habits collide, which further plays on unnerving fear and delusion; the sacred and the profane, psychic and spiritual, disturbing and ludicrous.

However, it is in those last closing statistics which turns the fascinating (and somewhat infuriating) Liberami into a real-life horror – the increase of Priests who are now qualified to perform exorcisms within Dioceses across the world is staggering, and the indication that these numbers will continue to grow is absolutely terrifying. Federica Di Giacomo has produced a a stark work which fuses real-life with the absurd, proves that reality is more far more powerful than fiction, and leaves you with hope that all those lost souls are delivered from whatever ails them.

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Blu-ray Review

Blu-ray Review: Beyond the Hills (Dir. Cristian Mungiu, 2012) Damnant quod non intellegunt*

(2012) Dir. Cristian Mungiu

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Beyond the Hills is Cristian Mungiu’s follow up to 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days which won the coveted Palme d’Or in 2007 and once again, the director utilises the close friendship of two female protagonists to comment upon gender and politics influenced by Communism and its chokehold on Romanian society. While political and sexual repressions were depicted through the gamut of illegal abortion, here it is commented upon through an organised religious sect.

Volchita (Cosmina Stratan) and Alina (Cristina Flutur) are young women in their twenties, having grown up together in an orphanage. They have a familial bond tied by history and circumstance rather than blood; the true nature of their relationship is hinted at yet remains somewhat ambiguous throughout. Alina returns from Germany, where she now works, for a few days – a holiday – expectant that Volchita will return with her. Instead, she finds her friend living in a Monastery deep in the Romanian hills, literally hidden from civilisation embedded in an austere, archaic landscape. Volchita is confined to the bosom of Nuns who cohabit under the strict patriarchal, authoritarian rule of ‘Father’ (Valeriu Anchuta). The devout community stands alone next to an unconsecrated Church which houses a small congregation on a holy day. A sign on the front gate reads, “This is the house of God, forbidden to anybody of a different religion. Believe and don’t doubt”, the irony of which is not lost on the viewer especially once learning of the idolatrous and essentially, sacrilegious existence of this ‘House of God’. It is interesting and somewhat staggering to note that nearly 86% of the Romanian population practises the Orthodox faith, despite the fact that the country has no state religion but then, this film is not preoccupied with religious institution, at least not completely.

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Mungiu’s third feature is a love story of sorts, faith at its very heart; belief in State, family and in a God which remains largely silent. It is a film about exorcism/possession, one situated outside of the confines of genre conventions and misogynistic dictatorship which is set on suppressing sinners who also happen to be women. The population outside is at a distance. You would be forgiven for thinking of it as a historical drama, the community is frozen in time, isolated, amid a lack of running water and electricity, save for Alina and her contemporary clothes. She is often the only splash of colour in an otherwise dark, dismal, and sombre mise-en-scène. She is a symbol of the outside world threatening to upset and challenge the religious conservatism and totalitarianism that appear to have engulfed Volchita.

The film is beautifully shot, blue and grey hued washes are abundant across the breathtaking landscape always captured in long shot, adding, not only, to its beauty but also educing the notion of freedom especially when juxtaposed with the interior medium shots. All employ, long takes, deep focus and are tightly framed which feeds the claustrophobic and repressive nature of the Monastery, exacerbating the tension between the religious and secular dichotomy and, in addition, the verisimilar style of storytelling Mungiu and his Romanian New Wave contemporaries adopt.

Beyond the Hills is deliberately paced to show the mundanity of life and natural flow of time. It is an enthralling and chilling commentary on traditionalism, irrationality of society and humanity at its most flawed. By its conclusion, which takes a jolting twist, all are accountable and yet there is no obvious villain. The final shot will resonate for a long time after the film has finished, once again, proving Mungiu as a director of merit, one who can coax astonishing performances from his leading actors and I know I, for one, will be awaiting his next contribution with bated breath.

*They condemn what they don’t understand