The Exorcist Review
By Colton Gomez | 03/29/24 | 1:05 A.M. Mountain Time
Horror| Rated R | 2 hrs 1 min | Film Release Date: December 26, 1973
In the world of divinity, the powers of municipality have no legitimacy, the power of money is bankrupt, only faith and courage can rid the world of its demon aggressor. William Friedkin’s film sourced from William Peter Blatty’s book of the same name is an enduring horror classic (though the creatives behind the film say it’s not a horror film). Viewings of this film caused visceral reactions in its debut audiences from the grotesque, violent, unnerving, and palpable sequences. Green projectile vomit, bloody faces and mouths, subliminal images of a demon, head twisting, and body levitating are among the most culpable in viewers’ nightmares and nighttime paranoia. This film made such a lasting impact as a cultural phenomenon and audiences today still find it horrifying.
"The Exorcist" follows Chris MacNeil (Ellen Burstyn) in her attempts to diagnose and cure her daughter, Regan (Linda Blair), after she notices that she is acting strange, even exhibiting unexplainable behavior. Chris is an actor, temporarily staying in Georgetown while she films a movie for her friend and director, Burke Dennings (Jack MacGowran). She takes her daughter through the gamut of the best available medical advice and practice which proves unfruitful.
All the while, strange events surround the MacNeil household, where Regan is bedridden. A demon face appears in the frame beside unknowing characters. Things move without being acted upon by a seen force. Regan complains of her bed shaking, which Chris experiences firsthand. The demon makes good use of a long and brutal staircase next to the MacNeil residence, by throwing people down it. Regan acts sickly and performs feats of great strength and nimbleness.
Regan's condition worsens, her body even appears to rot. She doesn't speak in her usual voice, but a gravely and deep distortion. In her desperation, Chris turns to a Jesuit psychiatrist, Father Damien Karras (Jason Miller), for an exorcism. Karras, fighting demons of a different kind, is at a loss of faith and feels he can no longer serve as the parish psychiatrist. He descends into a state of mourning and emotional vulnerability when his mother is put into a medical ward and dies soon after.
At the top of the film, we meet Father Lankester Merrin (Max Von Sydow), who leads an archaeological dig in Iraq. Here, he discovers a demonic memento of the demon Pazuzu, which foreshadows his encounter at the end of the film, where Merrin contributes to Regan's case.
The film feels so procedural and that's to Friedkin's credit. He's stated that he shot the film like a documentary, which is perhaps the most important thing he could have done for it. It feels cold and distant, like the characters are being watched at all times, and no one is coming to save them. This feeling comes from the many wide shots that Friedkin uses and the use of cold, muted colors. He puts space between the viewer and the characters, like we're spying on a private conversation. The scene where Chris meets Damien exhibits this feeling best. Cameras are positioned far away, as if they've known about and have been waiting to capture this moment, like a wildlife photographer.
All sorts of traumatic events took place on set, intentional efforts by Friedkin to con performances out of almost certainly capable actors. At that point, yanking Ellen Burstyn’s head to the ground so violently without proper precautions or warnings, Friedkin is not directing, he is simply tormenting. Did it make it a better film? I don’t know. Was it necessary? Hell, no.
I used to be scared of watching "The Exorcist." I grew up in a religious Mormon household in Utah, where I would attend church every Sunday, seminary for an hour and a half every other school day, and Wednesday night activities for around one hour. My Sundays were long in the last days of my religious dedication. I would wake up early to attend a missionary preparation class, which aimed to teach us how to talk to people about conversion. I would then attend my own church, in which I blessed and prepared the sacrament for the deacons to pass to the members of the congregation, listened to testimonies for an hour, then had two more hours of Sunday school.
Much of this discussion was about how to be a good son of God, which meant standing up for the church’s morals, setting an example of a kind and helpful person, avoiding profanity, masturbation, pornography, drinking, smoking, coffee, tea, and immodest behavior with girls my age. I was a dedicated member of the church, really thinking about going on a two-year mission to a church-assigned place, either in the U.S. or abroad, to teach people about my religion and the miracle of Jesus Christ.
So, imagine my 17-year-old Mormon ass sitting down to watch a demonic possession of a little girl that spins her head around and kills priests in the name of the devil. I had to watch this film with the lights on and in the daytime. Even so, I would get chills through my body that felt evil. I would get sleep paralysis, even years after seeing the movie. I would be frozen with the subliminal demon Pazuzu hovering over my bed, keeping me in place. I was absolutely terrified out of my mind from this movie. I would sometimes hate going to bed, because that calm silence where the night decides if you are to dream or have a nightmare, I would secretly worry that a demon was waiting in the unseen ether in my bedroom, to taunt me and take control of me. I had nightmares years after I saw "Poltergeist" for the first time. Movies like "The Conjuring" would give be that same severe discomfort of religious fear of the devil, but still, I loved watching those movies.
When it came to "The Exorcist," I liked it partially because I felt in someway that I would become an exorcist and help rid the world of evil, like some Mormon version of a Neil Gaiman character. Also, I liked them because they felt real. They gave weight to my religion and made it seem like we were all in a fight against evil. "The Exorcist," in particular, gave me a sense of danger and excitement. I was scared beyond my wits, but became fascinated with figures of otherworldly origin.
When I watch the film now (in a pitch-black room at night with amazing sound-quality headphones), I have tremendous sympathy for Chris and Damien. These are where the real fears lie, with our characters and not a demonic presence. Fears of not being able to provide care for your daughter, letting her down as a single parent, worried you didn't spend enough time with her and now you can lose her forever. Fears of not spending enough time with your mother, fears of feeling empty and wasted as you lose your faith, fears of not being a good son to a good mother. These are the moments our characters have to face and it's heartbreaking to witness.
Chris spends so much of the film yelling at doctors, crying, trying to work out a solution and to hold it all together. She's losing her mind as Regan is losing her body and soul, and if Regan couldn't be saved, neither could Chris. Damien is on the verge of losing his mind and purpose, feeling he has nothing left. He wants to help but doesn't know how or if he really can. He's lost his faith, but he's trying to regain it. He does regain it in the end, being pushed past reason and patience. His emotional vulnerability is what gives him cause to be faithful. Not necessarily faith in God, but in himself and goodness.
What made the world of the film so compelling and therefore the demonic threat, was the exhaustion of medical science, where Chris MacNeil had to pivot from cerebral and somatic methods and medicines to putting her faith in two priests as her only hope of ever seeing her truly beloved daughter again. Some might argue that the scenes in the hospital were the defining horror scenes, and they would be far from wrong. Loud noises, bright lights, strangers stabbing your neck with your mother’s consent in an unfamiliar environment can all be very traumatic. Listening to doctors who are stumped but trying to sound as if they have a clue as to what's going on only compounds Chris's frustrations and worry.
The most horrifying scenes, I feel, are the abrupt revisions to the natural world, such as Reagan being tossed up and down on her bed by the unseen demon or her head spinning completely around. Nobody has ever dealt with this. Nobody can explain it, either. Nobody quite knows what to do in this situation, which leaves Chris stranded, feeling alone and insignificant.
The moments when the demon spoke through Regan, which was anything but the voice of a little girl, were the most puncturing in my viewings. It gave me the horror of a malicious presence hiding inside her, hurting her, suppressing her. Her/Its seeming clairvoyance only gave the demon more gravity in my eyes, which exacerbated my already deep-seated fear of devilish creatures.
Regan’s spider walk comes so out of the blue that I used to instantly cringe into myself and watch from the corner of my eye. This is unnerving because it is catches you off guard, you don't know what's going to happen. In retrospect, it's just kind of weird. What reason does she have for spider-walking? Does the demon think this is the most efficient method of transportation in a body? Is the demon just trying to scare Regan or Chris? Why would it do that?
The nightmare of Friedkin’s set for the actors turned into the nightmares of audience members. Linda Blair deserves some sort of recognition or compensation for such a chaotic and unforgiving set she endured for long days over a long shoot. I detest having to sit at the dentist and have my mouth open for extended periods of time, but Linda Blair had to do that for hours on end in order to projectile vomit pea soup and oatmeal out of her mouth, instead of accidentally sending it down her throat, if she moved it slightly. Her performance in the film is absolutely brilliant and she certainly suffered for it.
Now, as I watch this film as an atheist who put religion behind him almost five years ago, I giggle at the wild, insane movie that the last third is. However, much of the fright is gone for me. My fears of this film were deeply embedded in religion. When I came out of that religion, so did my fears of the devil and demons. I don't give any weight to things of that supernature anymore, not even god.
It is still tremendously compelling but for completely different reasons now. I look at it from an outsider's perspective. I look at the characters, what the situation means to them, and the world that they live in. Whereas before, I would be thinking of how I would handle the situation, with my religious ties. This film scared the hell out of me, but I liked it. I later listened to the book and liked that, too. I'm not scared anymore of demonic taunts or thoughts of being possessed by a demon (though I am scared of Mormons, now).
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