An Exclusive Interview With Scott Derrickson

THE EXORCISM OF EMILY ROSE
—1. Overview (multimedia)
—2. Overview Basic (dial up speed)
—3. Reviews and Blogs
—4. Cast and Crew
—5. Photo Pages
—6. Trailers, Clips, DVDs, Soundtrack
—7. Posters
—8. Production Notes
—9. Spiritual Connections

Scott Derrickson co-wrote (with Paul Harris Boardman) and directed The Exorcism of Emily Rose. During the course of his career, Scott has also developed projects for Jerry Bruckheimer, Wim Wenders, Mike Ovitz, and Martin Scorsese. This is the second film Scott has co-written and directed, the first being Hellraiser: Inferno. He is also attached to direct Darkness Falling, based on another script he co-wrote with Boardman. Scott is a graduate of Biola University and the University of Southern California’s School of Cinema and Television, where he received his master’s degree in film production.

Kevin Miller: How did you first hear about the story of Emily Rose? What attracted you to it?

Scott Derrickson: I first learned about the true story while doing research for a screenplay I was writing for Jerry Bruckheimer. I immediately saw that there was a movie there, because the story was both horrific and meaningful, and it combined horror and courtroom drama. The more I looked at it, the more I felt like it was also a story that needed to be told. Not only that, but a real girl had tragically lost her life, and I wanted to give that event more meaning by telling a story that prompted people to think about spiritual things.

Kevin: What’s the “big idea” that drives this film? That is, on a thematic level, what is this film really about? Justice/injustice? Truth/lies? Good/evil?

Scott: It’s about questioning the nature of reality—specifically, whether or not the spiritual realm really exists. I didn’t want to make a film that propagates my own point of view or tries to provide metaphysical answers; instead I wanted to make a film that provoked the audience to ask spiritually significant questions. My hope is that no matter what an audience member’s point of view may be, they will see that point of view represented somehow in the film, but I also hope that everyone’s point of view will somehow be challenged by the film. The goal is to frighten and entertain the audience, but then leave them thinking about spiritual and religious questions that they may not otherwise think about.

Kevin: How would you describe this film’s place within the horror genre? How about within your own body of work?

Scott: Within the horror genre, it’s definitely in the tradition of the classier films of the 70’s—Rosemary’s Baby, The Exorcist, The Omen, etc. It’s certainly less graphic than The Exorcist, but audiences do find it terrifying. It’s also a courtroom movie, which separates it from any horror film I’ve ever seen. It’s a hybrid, and that’s what makes it unique. It also relies much more on great performances than on make-up or visual effects for its impact. Within my own body of work, I would say that this is the film I’ve been working toward my whole career. When I got involved in the horror genre, I did so because I saw a potential in that genre to do something very unique both aesthetically and thematically. This film is exactly the kind of film I hoped to make in this genre, and now that I’ve done it, I expect to be moving on to other genres. I feel the same way about science fiction as I do about horror—they both have untapped potential regarding spiritual content, and both are in need of reinvention.

Kevin: So far this is your third produced horror film. What keeps bringing you back to this genre?

Scott: No other genre allows for more direct involvement of spiritual material. In fact, this genre not only allows but also often demands a religious or spiritual point of view. It’s also the genre that deals most directly and most effectively with good and evil. Moral inquiry is very important to me, and you can’t make a good horror film without it. And I love how cinematic the horror genre is—you really make use of light, color, contrast, camera movement, and sound. It allows you to be aggressive as a director, and I enjoy that very much.

Kevin: Why do you think horror films are so popular today?

Scott: Audiences need a way to face their fears, and culturally, we are as afraid as ever. Horror films are like nightmares that release our fear. They subtly inoculate us from evil by giving us a vicarious confrontation of the evil that is in the world and in ourselves. I think that by feeling fear in a theater, we force ourselves to confront that which we fear and can end up better equipped to deal with it in the real world. I think teenagers love horror films because they provide some kind of release for pent-up fear and aggression. I think that audiences are also appreciating the fact that the genre is evolving. It’s getting more innovative, and in some cases, more meaningful. We must look at the dark and frightening side of life—to not do this at all is to live in fear-based denial. I think that the thrill of the horror film experience is the thrill of facing the fear and surviving. It’s similar to being on a roller coaster, and when it is over, you can feel relieved and purged, and a little less afraid. For some people, scary films leave them more afraid, and that’s why they don’t like them. That’s why it’s not a genre for everyone—it affects everyone differently. For some it’s a purely negative experience, and therefore one they should probably avoid. But for the rest of us, it’s the genre of non-denial—the one that reminds us that we are not in control, that things are not “all right,” and that there is evil both out in the world and in ourselves. The genre also reinforces proper definitions of good and evil, and that’s something the culture needs right now.

Kevin: What inspired this film’s aesthetic? What sort of look and feel were you going for?

Scott: I wanted to make a film that was both beautiful and terrifying. I think that the cross of Christ is just that -- the merging of terror and beauty. The two things I showed to Tom Stern (my director of photography) and David Brisbon (my production designer) were a few films by Dario Argento, and few paintings by Francis Bacon. Both Argento’s and Bacon’s work use bold and beautiful color to create very nightmarish imagery. I didn’t want the film to have the usual dark, de-saturated look you get with most horror films. I wanted it to be bright and beautiful, with lots of contrasting shadows instead of overall low-contrast darkness. The result is very compelling—the movie is relentlessly scary, but it never stops being beautiful to look at.Kevin: Spiritually speaking, what do you think viewers will take away from this film?Scott: I think they will leave asking themselves and others what they really believe about the existence of the demonic, the devil, and God. I also think they will feel like they got their money’s worth, having paid to see a scary movie. If I scare the audience and makethem think about something as important as the existence of the metaphysical realm, I will have done my job.

Kevin: What other projects can we look forward to seeing from you?

Scott: Right now I’m about to start rewriting a movie for Universal, and after that I’ll start planning on the next film. Like I said, I’d love to make a spiritual science-fiction film. I think we’ve had enough of monstrous aliens and laser blasters. There’s got to be a breakthrough in that genre, and I think it should be a spiritual one.

THE EXORCISM OF EMILY ROSE
—1. Overview (multimedia)
—2. Overview Basic (dial up speed)
—3. Reviews and Blogs
—4. Cast and Crew
—5. Photo Pages
—6. Trailers, Clips, DVDs, Soundtrack
—7. Posters
—8. Production Notes
—9. Spiritual Connections

The Brothers Grimm

It is rather difficult to pin down exactly what is wrong with director Terry Gilliam’s new film The Brothers Grimm, but if I had to choose one adjective to describe it, it would be “disjointed.” One thing Gilliam does appear certain of in this film, however, is his perspective on the spiritual realm. Not only does he affirm it, he seems to suggest that we ignore it to our peril—although he is far too cagey to come right out and say so.

To summarize briefly, the film is about Jake and Will Grimm, two brothers who travel the German countryside during the late 1800s conning ignorant peasants into believing they can rid their villages of enchanted creatures. They have a good time of it until the French occupying forces catch on to their ruse. Once captured, the Grimms are presented with a choice: Either help the French uncover who or what is causing young girls to disappear from a nearby village or… die. Being sensible blokes, the Grimms take door number one.

However, what looked like an easy way out quickly becomes more complicated when they discover that this time the enchantment they are up against is real. Suddenly, death at the hands of the French doesn’t seem like such a bad alternative. Then again, perhaps this is the brothers’ big opportunity to prove they are more than mere charlatans; a chance to make up for all the times they ripped people off and perform a public service instead. So, with the help of a local “woodswoman” named Angelika and their bumbling, would-be French executioner, they set off to do just that. The adventure that follows includes nothing less than a wicked witch, an enchanted forest, a werewolf, a frog prince, the Gingerbread Man, Hansel and Gretel, Little Red Riding Hood, and several other characters and elements from the real Grimm brothers’ classic fairy tales.

This could have been a brilliant film, especially if you consider all the possibilities that arise when you open the door for the Grimm brothers’ yarns to morph with reality into an unsettling mobius strip of a story. Gilliam and screenwriter Ehren Kruger have created a lot of great moments here, but in many cases these moments fail to connect to other great moments in a cohesive way. Even so, Gilliam’s treatment of the spiritual realm can give those willing to ignore the story’s jagged edges some interesting ideas about integrating the sacred with the secular by using characters to represent a number of competing points of view and then letting us decide which is best.

At one end of the spectrum are the French, who refuse to acknowledge that the spiritual world exists. Near the middle are the Grimm brothers. They are not really convinced either way, and they don’t seem to care much either, just so long as they can continue to exploit the faithful for material gain. Further toward the other end of the spectrum are the peasants, who actually take the spiritual world seriously. The problem is, rather than liberate them, their knowledge of the supernatural paralyzes them with fear, and their “faith” devolves into mere superstition. The final type, represented best by Angelika, believes in the spiritual realm but is able to hold it in proper perspective. She doesn’t deny it, isn’t afraid of it, and doesn’t use it to manipulate others. Instead, she has formed a right relationship with the spiritual realm so that it clarifies her life rather than muddling it, bringing freedom and hope rather than fear and bondage.

In this sense, The Brothers Grimm functions as somewhat of a “spiritual Rorschach test.” As a viewer, it may make you wonder where you fit on the spectrum. Do you mock? Do you fear? Do you even care? Or do you approach the spiritual world in a way that goes beyond mockery, fear, and apathy, with an attitude that some might call faith?

Of course, acknowledging the existence of the spiritual realm is one thing, but deciding exactly whose definition of that realm we are to accept is an entirely different matter, and Gilliam offers no insights here. Something he does make clear though is that despite our best efforts to define the supernatural in our own way—preferably in a way that suits us—the spiritual world has a way of defining itself for us. Then the real question becomes whether or not we are willing to accept what it has to say.

The Great Raid

—Overview
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—About this Film PDF
—Spiritual Connections

If you’ve never read Ghost Soldiers by Hampton Sides and you’re even slightly interested in World War II history, get your hands on a copy. And after that, get yourself to this movie. While The Great Raid hardly compares to Sides’ harrowing account of life at the notorious Cabanatuan Japanese POW camp in the Philippines or the daring rescue of the 511 American soldiers imprisoned there; after reading Sides’ book, you won’t be able to resist seeing even a simplified version of events on screen. This is not to say The Great Raid is a bad film—far from it. It just isn’t a great film. It includes all of the main characters and events. What’s missing are the extensive details and the riveting narrative that make Ghost Soldiers so compelling.

Part of the problem is an issue of balance. There are actually three stories going on in this film. The first has to do with the prisoners themselves. After enduring the Bataan Death March—a 100-kilometer trek across the Philippines’ Bataan Peninsula, during which approximately 20,000 soldiers died—the survivors faced three years of ruthless treatment at the hands of their Japanese captors. Disease, starvation, and physical abuse took an incredible toll on the men. Even more would have died were it not for the Filipino resistance fighters who ran an underground smuggling ring that delivered medicine and other supplies to the POWs—comprising the film’s second storyline. The third story, of course, involves Colonel Henry Mucci and the 120 members of the 6th Ranger Battalion whose daring rescue mission freed the surviving prisoners and is still regarded as the most successful rescue effort in US military history.

A story told from any one of these three viewpoints would make a compelling movie in and of itself. Including two of the stories may also have worked, as long as one was the main plot and the other a mere sub-plot. But attempting to give equal airtime to all three stories—as this movie tries to do—can do justice to none of them, unless you turned the whole thing into a six-hour miniseries. Unfortunately, in this case the storyline that suffers most is potentially the most compelling—that of Colonel Mucci and his men. Without the background details, it’s difficult to grasp the enormity of their undertaking and the absolutely miraculous result.

As amazing as this rescue effort was, all of the emotion and pyrotechnics it stirs up tend to obscure the true cost of the liberation, something this film hints at only once. No, it isn’t afterwards when the Rangers discover their lone fatality. It actually happens right before the raid begins. Sides’ book probably brings this out a little better than the film, but what I’m talking about is the Ranger assigned the task of firing the first shot, which would then kick off the attack. For approximately one hour, he lay in a trench not fifty yards away from the Japanese sentry who was doomed to become the first casualty in this battle. From his vantage point, the Ranger could see the sentry clearly as he paced back and forth, smoked a cigarette, and stared out at the darkness, completely oblivious to the fact that he was enjoying his final hour on Earth. For that brief period, the enemy—at least this particular enemy—became something more than an evil construct that could be dispatched without the slightest twinge of conscience. For that moment, in the eyes of this Ranger, the enemy became a human being. Suddenly realizing the full gravity of what he was about to do, he could barely bring himself to pull the trigger when the time came, delaying the raid by several minutes. He knew his efforts would probably save the lives of hundreds of American POWs, but the end result would be approximately 150 Japanese soldiers lying dead in the dust. Even though the Ranger knew of all the terrible things the Japanese soldiers had done to his compatriots, when he got right down to it, he realized the Japanese were still men—fathers, brothers, and sons—just like him, and just like the American and British soldiers they had imprisoned and abused. As my friend said on the way out of the theater, “War is a no-win proposition.” For that brief moment, I think this Ranger couldn’t have agreed more.

Humanizing the enemy is a big no-no when it comes to war. In fact, most military training is designed to suppress or destroy a soldier’s tendency to do just that. After all, if an army is to be successful, it can’t have its soldiers wading through moral dilemmas each time they go to pull the trigger. They must be conditioned to pull the trigger without a second thought and without regret. This is the harsh reality of war.

At the same time though, I can’t help but think that as long as we continue to dehumanize the enemy and teach people at the forefront of our foreign policy enforcement efforts to do the same, we will never appreciate sheer beauty and sanctity of human life, whether in others or ourselves. I fear that we will never experience peace and security either, because if we—the self-appointed “good guys”—are able to reduce our enemies into something less than human, imagine how the so-called “bad guys” conceptualize us! Yes, many people in the world do terrible things—as do each of us in our darkest and most private moments. But does that place them beyond redemption and worthy of extermination? If you answer, “yes” to that question, then you also place yourself in a precarious position, because perhaps your own secret sin puts you beyond redemption as well. After all, who but God knows where the line is and when you cross it?

Perhaps that’s why Christ taught us to love our enemies rather than hate them, to do good to those who hurt us rather than return evil for evil. This isn’t some arbitrary moral imperative designed to make us feel guilty. It is a matter of survival, but, even more than that, it is the means by which we might one day become fully human ourselves.

—Overview
—Photos
—About this Film PDF
—Spiritual Connections