Guided by Scott Weinberg's list of 120 Horror Films now on Netflix Watch Instantly, I decided to hunker down on a rainy, October, Los Angeles day and watch two of them: William Friedkin's The Exorcist (1973) and Brad Anderson's Session 9 (2001), one of Weinberg's favorites. While I have documented my favorites over at Pajiba (and before that in the pages of the UWM Post), my tastes have changed and evolved. When I last watched it, ten years ago, I wasn't a huge fan of The Exorcist. See if my tastes towards a purported classic changed after the jump.
Friedkin's films affect me much in the same way some Stanley Kubrick films (especially A Clockwork Orange, Full Metal Jacket, and Eyes Wide Shut) do. Every time I revisit The French Connection (1971), my opinion seems to change. The first time I saw it, I loved it and thought it was a masterpiece, hands down. The second time around, I was more seasoned in film and a bit more cynical. I admired the path it sought and blazed but ultimately thought other - later - films were stronger. Ten years ago, as a upperclassman in high school, I saw The Exorcist for the first time. I was not - nor am I now - a Catholic. I did not - nor do I now - I practice religion devoutly. That is not to say that I did and do not have faith in a higher power, I'm just not proficient on the Catholic rites. The first time around that bothered me and I felt excluded from fully comprehending the film. The second time around, that all changed.
It's not that I am now able to grasp the specifics of the theology of Friedkin's film (adapted by William Peter Blatty from his novel), that section of my religious education has remained largely unaltered (I was raised Protestant). I now, as a mid-twenty something who has experienced more of life (the ups, the downs, and the existential and philosophical questions that stem from those experiences), can understand the universal questions the film begs us to ask. The film begins with the archaeologist Father Merrin (Max von Sydow) discovering a carving of a demon in Northern Iraq. The carving awakens old memories in the aged clergyman and causes him to turn to medicine (rather than faith) to dull the past, unknown, horrors that have been tied to those memories.
Meanwhile, actress Chris MacNeil (Ellen Burstyn) is dealing with her sick daughter Regan (Linda Blair), who has been suffering from afflictions ranging from demonic tantrums and powerful motor reflexes. She turns to doctors, who believe the sickness is being caused by a brain defect, and later to psychologists but when a close friend visiting Regan is murdered, Chris believes her daughter may be possessed by Satan. With few remaining medical options on the table, she turns to faith and asks Father Karras (Jason Miller) to perform an exorcism. Unable to perform the duties himself, he enlists the help of the experienced Merrin (hence his terrified episode upon finding the carvings during his dig) and the men attempt to free the young girl from the clutches of the Devil.
As much discussed, Friedkin does an excellent job at using special effects (levitating beds, a split pea soup shooter, contact lenses) and film form (surrealist dream sequences, flash frames) to unravel his horrors, there are three other factors that make The Exorcist especially effective. First, his eye towards reality. After seeing Scott's list of horror films, we tweeted back and forth on the topic of horror movies set in space. The Alien films aside, there are shockingly few. I hypothesized that this was because horror set in space adds one too many turns to the screw. Horror requires an aspect of the everyday, a reality we can relate to, to be effective. Alien (1979) is scary because it renders the occupants of a futuristic science-fiction universe into blue collar workers who share our universal desires (wealth, survival, frustration with our employer, etc). Horror needs this as only then can we sink our nails into a tangible, recognizable reality only to have it forced askew by the unknown. Friedkin does this by embracing the documentary form that he brought to The French Connection. A visit to a neurologist and a spinal tap ends up as being just as terrifying and haptic as Regan's head doing a 360 degree spin. The film is terrifying because it seems plausible; we can recognize the reality as our own and the possibility that this could happen to us or our children drives the horror.
The second aspect that makes the film effective intersects with the first: the film's performances. I should start off with one brief criticism here, which has more to do with structure than the performances themselves. Quite simply, the most embellished character presented in the film is Father Karras. We only see Merrin as being terrified without fully understanding why. Now, I don't mind ambiguity, but he is given little material to make us understand his fear. Of course, one could argue that the ambiguity of that makes his terror all the more potent, but it does feel slightly undercooked. As for Chris and Regan, the relatively quick transition to the latter's sickness gives us just enough time to perceive the normalcy of the MacNeil household. It's on the back end, once the Devil has been exorcised, where we could have used a longer beat. Still, Burstyn, Blair, Miller, and Von Sydow are such rich performers and Friedkin manipulates them into such a frenzy (his physical and mental manipulations on set are well documented) that it all comes off as being all the more plausible and thus all the more terrifying.
This brings me to the final variable, the questions that are raised by Karras's arc. He is a clergyman and psychiatrist who has, after the death of his mother and experiencing the down and out hospital system in Georgetown, begun to question his faith. We understand where he is coming from, how he got to the point of doubt, and how it rattles his philosophy towards life (watch Miller's eyes throughout the film, they are haunted with raw doubt and frustration). Yet, even in the darkness of everyday life, Karras accepts his redemptive role. The ending of the film stuck some as cynical and downbeat (they viewed it as the Devil being the victor) but the sacrifice Karras makes and how that sacrifice alters the lives of those around him is incredibly hopeful. The film forces us to realize that real and potent evil exists in our reality and that despair will not be the correct tool to manage it.
Soon, one member of the team, Mike (Gavedon), discovers the media remnants of a therapy session with a troubled woman. She seems to exhibit multiple personalities and refuses to acknowledge the existence of one named "Simon." Meanwhile, team leader Gordon (Mullan) is stressing himself over the impossible contract he has promised and what it will mean to his wife and newborn child. At the same time, Phil (Caruso) is bitter at Hank (Josh Lucas) for running off with his ex-girlfriend. These latter, plausible subplots are manipulated into tears in the reality of the characters by the secrets Mike is uncovering. Soon, Hank disappears and the team begins to blame Phil, the only one with a motive.
The film begins strongly and ends somewhat frustratingly. The inevitable twist works, initially, but then had me doubting earlier reveals. Specifically, and without trying to spoil too much, are we supposed to take the later visions of Hank at a window as real or imagined? If they are real, the film's ending - which depicts the real circumstances behind Hank's disappearance - doesn't seem to jive. Why would be run away and not tell everyone else what the hell is going on? Moreover, is he even physically able to do what he is depicted of doing, considering the physical trauma he has gone through? On the other hand, if the vision of Hank is a ghost, the final reveal is also problematic, as the asylum's demons only seem to exhibit limited interaction. Maybe I need to watch the film again, now knowing the ending. Considering the budget and resources however, it is an artfully directed haunted house flick with some excellent, spine-tingling, sequences.
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