Cultic Studies Journal, Volume 17, 2000, Page 133
would like to hear from ―churches‖ included in the list that did not receive initial clarification
requests to correct any errors or addresses.
Joe Szimhart
Cult Information Specialist and Consultant
Pottstown, PA
Holy Smoke. Produced by Jane Chapman, directed by Jane Campion, written by
Anna Campion and Jane Campion, photography by Dion Beebe, music by Angelo
Badalamenti, distributed by Miramax Films. Released 1999-2000. Rated R for
nudity, sex, profanity and sexual violence. Running time: 1 hour, 54 minutes
It may have been two or three years ago since I first heard the buzz about research Jane
Campion conducted for a film about deprogramming a cult member. At the time I was still
deeply involved in that milieu as a professional exit counselor. After the film‘s initial release
in Europe, Australia, and selected cities in the USA at the end of 1999, reactions were
mixed. Some criticized Campion‘s quirky portrayal of a coercive deprogramming event as
―ridiculous.‖
One reviewer for Time Magazine saw the film as a dark but artsy, ―feminist parable‖
wrapped around a clash of wills. He appeared to like it. Some Australians I know did not
appreciate the apparently senseless mockery of an Aussie family. In one scene, a live sheep
passes for a coffee table. Heated reactions came, as one might expect, from counter-cult
people who have tried for decades to promote a legal, benign approach to intervention that
came to be called ―exit counseling.‖ However, Campion knew that some exit counselors,
sometimes lapsed into use of security guards and ―safe houses,‖ just as deprogrammers
had done in the past. So her deprogrammer is called an ―exit counselor,‖ and Holy Smoke
utilizes the more dramatic, coercive model of cult intervention.
Theaters in my area of Philadelphia did not show Holy Smoke until mid-February. Ironically,
as fate would have it, I flew to Australia at the end of January to help a family with an
intervention --my twelfth or thirteenth trip down under on such missions. There I found
time to see Holy Smoke on its home turf. I went with my cousin, who like me is in her early
fifties, and with her adult daughter. I wanted their opinion. At this date the film was not
doing well at the box office --relatively few theaters in Australia were carrying it, and the
impressive Crunulla Cinema Centre sold only 8 or 9 tickets to the show we attended.
Promotional posters, tongue-in-cheek, say: ―Sex captive in desert hideaway…young beauty
seduced by macho American twice her age.‖
The film portrays the dark passage to self-knowledge of a young Australian woman, Ruth,
impressively played by Kate Winslet. Her Sydney-based, dysfunctional family hears that
Ruth joined a guru‘s cult in India. They seek help from a local Jewish cult expert who directs
them to hire ―the best‖ in P. J. Waters (Harvey Keitel), an American ―exit counselor.‖ P.J.
gets ―10,000 dollars‖ to take the case.
The movie opens with a dramatic flow of travel scenes of Ruth in India with her girlfriend.
Campion captures some of colorful, people-rich New Delhi. A curious Indian man standing
behind Ruth on a crowded bus sneaks a hand to feel the foreigner‘s blonde hair. She is not
amused. Ruth appears to be a spacey, impressionable girl at this stage, curious about some
happy western girls dressed in saris. So we are not too surprised that she falls in love with a
holy man, Baba, after encountering his gaze at his ashram. Ruth is immediately smitten by
an electric experience illustrated by psychedelic imagery. Her friend, with her the whole
time, reacts with alarm, and she cannot persuade Ruth to leave the place. Back in Sydney,
the friend tells Ruth‘s family what happened and why Ruth will not come home.

Cultic Studies Journal, Volume 17, 2000, Page 134
They seek advice from an Australian expert who advises Ruth‘s mother to go to India to
entice her daughter home with a story that Ruth‘s father had a major stroke. She goes, and
here is where the movie begins to get silly, punning on stereotypes about Indian culture,
the magic, hypnotic power of a guru, and the clueless parents of a cult member. The
mother, like Edith Bunker on an alien planet, goes it alone in chaotic New Delhi. She visits
her daughter who now has a new Hindu name. The stroke story doesn‘t work with Ruth,
who has more important things on her mind, like worshiping Baba in person.
The mother agrees to stay a while to visit the ashram, but first she must bathe and wash
her hair. No one can be in Baba‘s presence smelling of perfume, shampoo, or deodorant.
Baba is based partly on a notorious guru, now dead, who was known to have serious
allergies and could not tolerate chemical odors. The mother notices she has to endure a
sniff test at the gate, and this startles her. ―I do not want to be treated like a dog.‖ She
turns in disgust, runs toward her hotel, but on the way has an asthma attack and cannot
breath. A crowd of Indians causes her to panic even more as they grope stupidly to help
her. In one the funnier scenes, they carry and dump mom into a cab. Ruth decides to escort
her fragile mother home to Sydney.
When P.J. Waters appears, my cousin laughed as she remembered me in a similar outfit
when I arrived once in Sydney. My cousin asks, ―Is that supposed to be you?‖ Who knows --
Campion researched the stories of many people, deprogrammers and deprogrammees, to
create her satirical, composite characters and scenes --of that much I am aware. My first
initials are ―J. P‖…. nah, a mere ego projection. Waters is a late middle-aged American who
does not mind boasting about his ―190‖ successful cases and low rate of recidivism. He dyes
his longish hair black, sports a mustache, soul patch, and arrives in Sydney dressed in a
standard black sport coat, jeans, black shirt, black cowboy boots and mirror sunglasses --
his basic costume through half the movie.
In a word, Waters is sleazy. He is also very smooth and cocky, a seasoned veteran of
intervention, already living his next challenge, quickly evaluating his task, being decisive.
Waters is shocked to discover from his colleague, the local cult expert, that his scheduled
assistant was not available. With no good alternative, Waters ponders going it alone with
inexperienced family and hired guards. He spells out his ―three day‖ process that begins
with isolating the cult member, then gaining rapport, and next breaking down devotion to
the group or guru with skillful dialog and video tapes. I recognize a parody of what many
exit counselors say, but I also recognize an older deprogramming model shaping up,
complete with a dramatic kidnapping scene.
The central theme is set: the deprogrammer and the cult member are to meet one on one
in a battle of wills and skills. After Ruth arrives at an outback ―halfway house‖ [in actual
cases, this would be called a ―safe house‖] to meet her ailing father, she realizes soon
enough he is not sick. Relatives and hired men surround her, including her gay brother (who
shows up in several scenes with his lover) to convince her to meet with Waters for three
days. In her frustration, she lashes out at her father, scooping his toupee off his head.
Surrounded by her weird bunch of captives, seeing no way out, she agrees to stay ―for
three days.‖
Alone in the ―halfway house,‖ a remote cabin located at Wee Waa [a real place in New
South Wales] with his client, Waters begins his deprogramming magic, weaving clever, worn
phrases through Ruth‘s naïve retorts. He manages to open her curiosity about him and to
get her talking. An exit counselor‘s worst nightmare is a passive-aggressive client who will
show no reaction and say nothing for days on end, but Ruth accommodates this stage of
Waters‘ plan. She is hostile, insidiously seeking her strengths and his weaknesses, but
Waters expects as much. He calmly proceeds, citing Hindu scripture as easily as Socrates to
counter Ruth‘s objections. Waters‘ character is shallow, however, and never delivers the