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Mikael (1408) Håfström’s The Rite is not an overly scary movie about exorcism, but it is a sincere, modest little movie about faith and God. Colin O’Donoghue plays Michael Kovak, a mortician’s son who enrolls in an exorcism course in Rome so that he might find God through exposure to the devil. Anthony Hopkins plays a very experienced exorcist, a Welshman named Father Lucas Trevant. At first, Hopkins effectively plays Trevant as a quirky, slovenly weirdo, his wrinkled pate covered with bristly gray hair. When Father Trevant’s breakdown as a result of a possessed girl’s death allows him to be occupied by a demon, Hopkins taps into his inner Hannibal Lecter, glaring maniacally as a taunts Kovak with the kind of breathy rhetoric that is a Hopkins forte, ranging between the merely cheeky and the downright shocking.
During the final duel between Kovak and the demon, you might find yourself expecting Hopkins to flick his tongue between his teeth and utter, “Clarice!” Hannibal Lecter was certainly possessed by some demon, and there’s something suitable about Hopkins playing a possessed exorcist, so you can’t help but chuckle inside. Admiring Hopkins as an actor and enjoying his histrionics, you might chuckle aloud. The fellow behind me, one of a guys’-night-out group I have seen at the mall multiplex on a number of Friday nights, chuckled just about every time Hopkins opened his mouth. Either Hopkins tickled his fancy or he found the film ludicrous (which means he wasn’t Catholic). If the former was the case, I wish he’d restrain his tickled fancy and keep it to himself; if the latter case, the film didn’t quite deserve his response. Despite Hopkins’s hyperbolic Lecterizing, The Rite is an atmospheric, genuinely sincere examination of a young deacon’s conflict with his lack of faith, and his skepticism in regards to God and the existence of the devil.
The movie starts chillingly enough with close shots of embalming tubes and instruments and a squirm-inducing depiction of apprentice mortician Michael Kovak working on a corpse, stuffing and stitching closed the mouth, washing the hair, and preparing to slip on the dead girl’s underwear. In fact, the film’s scariest scenes take place at Michael’s childhood home where a nearly unrecognizable Rutger Hauer, as Michael’s father, works on bodies, filing or painting fingernails with the meticulous care of an artist. At one point, we flash back to young Michael looking down the long dark corridor of memory to the embalming room where his father works on the boy’s dead mother and invites him in to watch. We’ve seen this kind of thing before, but there’s something reliably creepy about scenes in embalming rooms, which is not always the case about scenes involving demons uttering deep-voiced obscenities from a poor girl’s body.