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By NIck Pinkerton

A fourth-generation minister, Cotton Marcus (Patrick Fabian), of Baton Rouge's Church of St. Mark was groomed for the pulpit. Onetime child preacher Cotton has grown out of the trembling faith of his forebears, though not the job security of preaching it. Nowadays, he can make an ironic aside from his cruise-control sermons without missing an "Amen." As his passionate faith wanes, his showmanship gains: He integrates card tricks into his preaching, like a birthday party magician. But once he's shaken the parishioners' hands, he washes off the Blood of Christ and returns to a well-adjusted family, clean suburb, and secular concerns.

Cotton drops the preacherman twang when discussing this double life to his confessional, a documentary camera crew. As The Last Exorcism begins, we follow him through a day-in-the-life, shot from the crew's handheld p.o.v., which the movie retains. The filmmakers (a heard-but-barely-seen cameraman and Iris Bahr as Iris Reisen) have come to follow him on an exposé mission, shedding enlightenment on the religulous Louisiana backwaters. The end of a line of exorcists, Cotton has decided to give away the game on a practice that's a superstitious placebo at best. He and crew follow a random request for divine intervention to the Sweetzer farm in Ivanwood—old, weird America where folks gladly volunteer their tales of cults and UFOs. Though he doesn't show the stage presence of a born evangelist, Fabian is quite convincing as a man giddy to speak his doubts out loud—and a bright, slightly smug professional planning a career move. When Cotton calls the backcountry they're visiting "a perfect breeding ground for demons and evil," you can hear the scare quotes in his voice around the "demons" and "evil," antique words synonymous with ignorance.

But the past isn't past with Sweetzer patriarch Louis (Louis Herthum), who's concerned about daughter Little Nell (Ashley Bell). Though meek and mild with company, she's been having mysterious blackouts, after which livestock are found slaughtered. Dad's a drunk, and everything's gone to hell since Mom died, says son Caleb (Caleb Landry Jones), between throwing rocks and casting baleful glances at the intruders. Cotton delivers practical psychology homilies along with his casting-out-of-demons spiel, performed with the fishing wire F-X of a huckster medium, then collects his payment. But this doesn't quick-fix Nell, now going through violent, lusty sleepwalk seizures and gymnastic contortions.

The script, by Huck Botko and Andrew Gurland, is a well-paced tease, a succession of slow approaches to understanding what's happening, with each new revelation revealing a false bottom. The suspense is ideological—is this a world of documentary pragmatism or horror irrationality? Either everything has a textbook explanation in shame and repression—or we must heed the immortal words of the Louvin Brothers and believe that Satan Is Real.

Cotton's therapeutic wellness contrasts with Louis's gloomy, marrow-deep faith. A smart piece of exploitation, The Last Exorcism plays on very different audience prejudices toward these polar "types," one adjusted to and the other unreconciled with the modern world. Putting on his pressed linen suit, Cotton admires himself with a sharp grin and jokingly imagines a new career—"Maybe I'll sell real estate"—with citified know-it-all gall. Papa Sweetzer, meanwhile, is of one with the home-schooling movement; church school curriculum, we're told, wasn't "sufficiently medieval." "He's got a lot of guns in the house," worries Iris, with a load of assumptions implied. (Obviously a veteran of the indie film festival circuit, she's only too happy to chalk everything up to incest.)

Comparisons to that Blair Witch jumble will come, but adding a patina of reality to horror is as old as the epistles of Bram Stoker's Dracula, and Exorcism is a more rigorous movie. What's important is that the story isn't obscured by the faux-eavesdropped shooting style—and it mostly isn't, though herky-jerky camerawork goes only so far for creating thrills—and who added the tired "suspense" soundtrack to this "found footage"?

The climax is a rush, like conversion. It isn't, of course, the last exorcism. Who knows what anyone who made this film actually believes in, but, as with Reverend Cotton's "Get behind me, Satan" jive, this show always finds paying customers.

Copyright 2010 The Village Voice

One of the scariest movies to come along in a long time

By Christy Lemire

Really, that's about how quickly it all collapses. Director Daniel Stamm's faux documentary starts out with deadpan delivery and a dry sense of humour, then it turns riveting, then truly frightening, then just plain silly. It's like it morphs from being a Christopher Guest movie to The Blair Witch Project - as if writers Huck Botko and Andrew Gurland didn't know where to go, so they went over the top.

Until then, the filmmakers keep you guessing as to what's real and what's imagined, what's a disturbing mental disorder and what's actually demonic possession. And the fact that this Eli Roth production uses all unknown actors helps us get sucked into this eerie world.

Evangelical Louisiana preacher Cotton Marcus (Patrick Fabian) has been performing exorcisms for the past 25 years but he knows they're all a sham. He long ago lost his faith - if he ever had any, that is - and for a while has had no qualms about taking money from true believers in the name of supporting his own family. But now, with his conscience weighing on him, he decides to let a camera crew come behind the scenes to expose his tricks as he "performs" one last exorcism.

And it truly is a performance. Cotton is hugely charismatic, a natural showman, and he's all too happy to divulge how he uses his iPod to make evil groaning sounds, or how he gets a puff of smoke to come out of his crucifix at a climactic moment.

But he's not arrogant about it, which is key: He's engaging and confident but never so full of himself that he's off-putting. Fabian finds the balance in his character's conflicting motivations, which is crucial to allowing us to go along with him on this tried-and-true one last job.

Randomly, he selects a letter from the Sweetzer family living in fictional, rural Ivanwood. There, teenage daughter Nell (the extraordinary Ashley Bell) has been acting strangely and the livestock are being slaughtered. Her father, Louis (Louis Hertham), a serious fundamentalist, begs Cotton to purge the demon he thinks has possessed his innocent little girl. Her younger brother, Caleb (Caleb Landry Jones, creepy in his stillness) isn't shy about telling the reverend and his camera crew he wants them to go away.

Cotton breezes in, works his magic and breezes out. Or so he thinks. In that classically frustrating horror-film fashion, he finds he can't leave. And as he gets dragged deeper into this family's troubles, he finds himself in deeper trouble than he ever could have imagined.

Even before things turn violent, though, Stamm capably creates a suspenseful mood through the naturalism of the film's look, the expert use of silence and pacing. The insularity of the Sweetzer family, the defiant way they've cloistered themselves from the outside world since the death of Louis' wife two years ago, is enough to put you on edge. There are moments in The Last Exorcism that will make you hold your breath, and others that will make you want to look away.

It's rated PG-13 but don't let that fool you into thinking it's soft. Actually, it's the vagueness, the unknown, that make The Last Exorcism so powerful - at least for a while.

Copyright 2010 Associated Press

Delivers the Goods

Peter Travers

For a movie made from spare parts — take The Exorcist and attach to The Blair Witch Project and Paranormal Activity — The Last Exorcism delivers the heebie-jeebie goods. In mock documentary style (the film purports to be found footage), director Daniel Stamm follows the Rev. Cotton Marcus (Patrick Fabian), a disillusioned minister, on his last case of demonic possession.

His focus is teenager Nell (Ashley Bell), down at the eerily remote Sweetzer farm. Her daddy (Louis Herthum) thinks something is amiss, what with the livestock dying and all. Cotton is skeptical. He performs exorcisms but thinks they're a crock. Then stuff starts flying, including intimations of devil worship, incest and I better shut up before the devil gets me for spoilers.

Fabian performs way beyond scary-movie duty as the Rev., blending laughs with goose bumps at the best times, meaning when you least expect it. Stamm and producer Eli Roth (Hostel) can be trusted to exceed the PG-13 limits at every turn. It's not just the hand-held camera that will shake you up. The Last Exorcism gives you good reason to be very afraid of the dark.

Copyright 2010 Rolling Stone