by KEVIN LAFOREST

I’m sure the filmmakers had honourable intentions when they decided to make another adaptation of the tragic true story of Aurore Gagnon, which had already inspired books, plays and the 1952 movie Aurore, l’enfant martyre. Children are still victims of violence, and all too often they suffer in silence, as relatives and neighbors turn the other way. Presumably, the hope is that by telling these stories, people will be encouraged to denounce similar horrors around them. That’s fine, but do we need to focus on all the sordid details in prime time interviews with the victims, tell-all books and movies like this?

Starring newcomer Marianne Fortier, Aurore tries to show how yesteryear’s French-Canadian populace was blinded by its obsessive faith in the Catholic Church, but at its core, it’s little more than a child abuse exploitation film. I could forgive the fetishizing of martyrdom if the film displayed a hint of subtlety or emotional resonance. Alas, first time director Luc Dionne constantly resorts to clichés, cheap morality and manipulative sentimentality. The happy earlier days of little Aurore with her mother overflow with cloying cuteness to make sure they contrast with the hell she’ll endure with her careless father and his temptress cousin, who seduces him while his wife is still in the hospital dying of tuberculosis. Not obvious enough? How about this: during one of the adultery scenes, Dionne zooms in on Bad Daddy’s hand caressing Evil Stepmom’s back, with his wedding ring shining ominously on his finger. Then, at Angelic Mommy’s funeral, Evil Stepmom wears a trampy red dress. Boo! Hiss!

The all-star Québécoise cast, including Hélène Bourgeois-Leclerc, Serge Postigo and Rémy Girard, spends most of the movie at the general store, gossiping but refusing to get involved, while Bad Daddy and Evil Stepmom beat the shit out of Aurore with a 2x4 with nails sticking out, an axe handle, a fire poker or their plain old fists. I’m not spoiling anything by saying that she ends up dying from her wounds, making all the town’s folk feel guilty—especially the arrogant priest who justifies the abuse as discipline. The clergyman feels so bad that he digs his own grave and blows himself up with dynamite. Like I said, not a hint of subtlety.

Aurore opens Friday, July 8

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