William Friedkin’s The Exorcist, based on William Blatty’s 1971 novel by the same name, is a masterfully executed piece of escapist horror, whose conservative agenda, confirmation and manipulation of the status quo’s mores, and trite, clichéd nature is veiled by near perfect cinematography, editing, and make-up and special effects.  Cunningly, by exploiting most every social taboo after instructing its audience as to where the line of acceptability is to be drawn, the filmmakers successfully deliver a prefabricated social response to good and evil within the world.

   Father Lankester Merrin (Max von Sydow) inadvertently releases an ancient evil while on an archeological dig in Northern Iraq as a 12 year-old girl named Regan MacNeil (Linda Blair), living with her mother, Chris (Ellen Burstyn, whose character was modeled after Blatty’s friend, Shirley MacLaine), in Washington, D.C. while the latter stars in a film, becomes inexplicably ill.  After a battery of both physical and psychological tests, medical experts futilely suggest that Chris consider having an exorcism conducted in hopes of alleviating the child’s progressive symptoms.  Father Damien Karras (Jason Miller) is contracted by Chris to examine Regan and is assigned to be the assistant to Merrin during the ceremony. 

   Creator and screenwriter William Blatty is largely responsible for the near fascist strand of staunch conservativism seen and affirmed throughout most every frame of The Exorcist, which is perhaps best epitomized in Merrin’s disclosure to Karras that the demon’s agenda in possession is “[ . . . ] to make us despair.  To see ourselves as  . . . animal and ugly.”  Indeed, the film implicitly declares that if we accept any facet of the demon’s philosophical outlook, agree or concur with any of its actions, we threaten not only ourselves and our possibility for eternal salvation, but also the lives of those around us or, as stated in  Marsha Kinder and Beverle Houston’s essay, “Seeing is Believing:  The Exorcist and Don’t Look Now,” “We are taught to fear all irreverence, unconventionality, rebellion, and complex sexuality.”  However, the film’s moralistic stance, which is coyly coded in Chris’s terms as “rats in the attic,” can be admired in its amazing efficiency for it addresses and assesses most every possible moralistic concern as it posits (and subsequently denounces) the themes of single-motherhood, divorce, and the absentee father; incest and pedophilia; homosexuality; unchecked sexuality and the sexual impulse in general; the treat of the female; and science as counter to religion.

   Obviously, the film promotes a Manichean reading of good and evil.  As such, throughout the feature there exists a subsequent “correct” or “incorrect” position to everything which is occurring.  With this in mind, it is implied that Chris, whose ex-husband, Howard--who now lives in Rome--is responsible for the circumstance in which she and her daughter have recently found themselves due to her inability to retain a man in her life (on the cover of Photoplay Magazine, the headline reads, “Big Trouble in the MacNeil Marriage!  The Night Howard Walked Out on His Wife”) in that once a male does enter the household, albeit he must sacrifice his life to do so, normalcy is reinstated (which confirms the moralistic stance of the film because without this affirmation, the work could otherwise stand as a mere social litmus or a mirror in relation to society).  As such, both Kinderman and Karras and Merrin serve as symbolic male figureheads for two factions of society, the secular state and the revered Church. 

   This symbolism leads us into another political agenda by the creators as “Captain Howdy,” the name which Regan has given her OUIJA board presence, is offered as the response to the question, “Is there someone inside you?” by an unnamed psychiatrist played by Arthur Storch.  Obviously, a parallel is being drawn in the poignant phrasing of the question atop the phonetic similarity to the disembodied voice and Regan’s father as the implication is posited that incest (and therefore pedophilia) is to be associated with evil.  Indeed, it would be hard to refute such a claim, but this segue serves as the slippery slope into other facets of more marginalized, but nonetheless permissible, acts which the director is hoping to indict.  As such, these themes are reinforced as Regan takes Chris’s head and shoves it in her crotch, demanding her mother to “Lick me,” which leads the viewer to a conservative violation:  homosexuality.  Shortly thereafter, we hear the demon instruct Karras to “Fuck him [Father Merrin]” during the exorcism.  (The Friedkin-supervised edition of the television version of the film omitted all of the profanities while retaining the word “faggot.”)

   Not only is homosexuality aligned with the pedophilia, incest, and the Devil, but sexuality in general becomes guilty by association.  Of course, it is only natural for Burke Dennings, Chris’s boss--whom she is having an affair (in Chris’s terms, Burke “comes around a lot” because he’s “lonely”)--to die for he not only is having intercourse outside of bonds of wedlock but, being an obvious liberal, he is also seen drinking to excess, is directing a film supporting social upheaval and rebellion, uses profanity, and also displays hatred for Karl (Rudolf Schündler), Chris’s servant, whom he believes to be a Nazi.  Of course, though Karl vehemently denies his association with Hitler, given the film’s precepts, it is not unreasonable for the director to make such an abrupt, xenophobic correlation for the evil which everyone is about to be subjected stems from a foreign country:  Iraq (a rather prophetic political placement for the filmmakers given an early 21^st century viewing of the film).

   Furthermore, burgeoning sexuality is to be viewed as more caustic than sins of the flesh committed by the lost--i.e. adults--due to the fact that childhood innocence was so recently abandoned.  In this guise, only the possessed Regan would be seen engaging in the act of masturbation (which is further maligned by the rejection of religion in her implementation of a crucifix as a dildo).  Yet, as the film promises, once one sin is indulged, then a person can only expect a barrage of evil acts to follow considering one’s weak will (which even Father Merrin attests to during the feature).  Thus, after a pre-teen’s sexuality (Regan will be 13 the following Sunday) is permitted, rebellion, social incongruity (in the form of public urination), and authoritative disrespect (for her elders as well as the Church) are to predictably follow.

   The MacNeils’ female sexuality and default temptation are held largely accounted for the dilemma witnessed in the film (thus paralleling the predicament in the Garden of Evil).  Paradoxically, the gender is nonetheless condemned if it does not observe and revere the status quo concerning appearance and mores for exhibitions involving sexuality, profanity, urination, and uncleanliness (especially in regards to personal appearance) are associated with Satan.  On this note, it is of little surprise that the star of a film sponsoring the notion of social unrest should be the victim of an evil manifestation because, in essence, she is voluntarily inviting sin into her life (much like Karras after having abandoned his mother, played by Vasiliki Maliaros, for his career within the Church).  (Not surprisingly, Blatty uses this as an opportunity to insert a right-wing view of drug use by having Chris’s reaction to the question of whether or not she uses drugs to border on the offensive.)  Interestingly, the gender is also maliciously employed into the film in that the original “true story” upon with The Exorcist is based revolves around a young boy.  Thus, the filmmakers shift the victim’s gender in order to attempt to create a type of plausible sympathy within their audience, thereby implying that females are indeed the “weaker sex.”

   Lastly, the antagonism between science and religion is also confronted as the tortures that medical science subjects Regan to in hopes of deriving the cause of her affliction is presented in such a manner that many critics cite that these particular scenes are the most difficult to watch throughout the entire film.  Instead of offering an ambiguous exchange between the two polarities, Friedkin makes sure that all theoretical credit which might be granted science is subsequently negated, beginning with--after eighty-eight doctors are unable to determine, no less cure, the young girl--a handful of Church officials eliminating the pain in the MacNeils’ lives.  Even though Doctor Barringer (Peter Masterson) reports, “It [the supposed manifestation of possession] starts with some conflict or guilt that eventually leads to the patient’s delusion that his body’s been invaded by an alien intelligence--a spirit if you will” (which, at this point during the film, is a possibility in that Regan has expressed jealousy toward Chris in that Burke is taking her mother’s attentions away from the child atop the likelihood that she might very well be exhibiting the effects of depression due to her parents’ separation) and that “It’s [the act of exorcism] purely a force of suggestion.  The victim’s belief in possession is what helped cause it, so in that same way, a belief in the power of exorcism can make it disappear,” Friedkin quickly eliminates that Regan’s dilemma is a psychological complexity or that the events witnessed in the film are the result of mass hysteria as we are bombarded with one physically impossible act after another from Regan.  Even the argument that Karras sprinkles tap water, as opposed to Holy water, on the demon and thus in not genuinely possessed is subtlety countered as Merrin reminds Karras, “The demon is a liar.  He will lie to confuse us,” the director thus implying that the demon was aware that the water wasn’t blessed and that by issuing a false positive in this regard, Karras would thereby refuse to request an exorcism.  Finally, and ever so mootly, though Chris’s proposal of Regan perhaps having split-personality disorder was rejected by Doctor Klein (Barton Heyman), Friedkin has Karras attempt to posit a similar claim, only to have Merrin cut the young priest off midsentence, insisting that, “There is only one.”   

Of course, having been instructed as what delineates acceptable from the forbidden, it is little wonder that Friedkin was successful in his ability to breech taboo throughout the film.  As such, once it is established that divorce, incest, homosexuality, liberal notions and lifestyles, social incongruity, adolescence, and science are offensive and sinful, the presentation of such thereby violates the self-fulfilling prophecy of the filmmakers as they sit back and watch their audience take offence at exactly what they were told was unacceptable.  

   Granted, The Exorcist uses the techniques of cinema succinctly as Owen Roizman--the individual responsible for the cinematography in such works as Friedkin’s The French Connection, Sidney Lumet’s Network, Sydney Pollack’s Tootsie, and Bryan Forbes’s The Stepford Wives--casts every claustrophobic frame of the film beautifully, making the work as fresh today as it undoubtedly was in 1973 as makeup legend Dick Smith, with the aide of protégée Rick Baker as his assistant, continues to perplex modern audiences, the latter’s only mistake being that Sydow’s aging wasn’t as well conveyed as Regan’s phenomenal possession.  Yes, an animal motif runs throughout the work as the statue of Pazuzu is echoed in Regan’s bird sculpture, the statement by the demon that “The sow [Regan] is mine,” the “FIGHT PIGS” graffiti (a slogan for 1970’s youth rebellion) seen sprayed alongside stairwell (again aligning rebellion with the site of evil and death), Regan’s desire for a horse, and the guttural animal sounds emitted from the demon.  Admittedly, most every character name carries some form of symbolic connotation:  Regan, Shakespeare’s ungrateful daughter; Chris, one letter away from “Christ”; Damien, who will later to be possessed by a demon; Burke, a term meaning “to murder by suffocation”; Sharon, who “shares” in the MacNeil dilemma; Dyer, as in “one who dies” (misapplied in that this isn’t implemented as a foreshadowing device for the figure survives).  It seems fitting that Burke would fall down the steps, thus signaling his descent into Hell for his earthly sins, but--as with the other metaphorical inconsistencies previously cited--during Karras’s dream motif, though plausible given the character’s guilt toward his parent, she is witnessed coming up from the subway, thus from below.  However, even barring these oversights, they only function in respect to the director’s moralistic absolutism, which seems to, at times, have blurred his vision in that it is never substantiated as to who desecrated the statue of the Virgin Mary at the opening of the film and why Karl wasn’t arrested after Burke’s demise given the time Friedkin committed to establishing an antagonism between the characters (which would legitimize a scenario that otherwise serves no purpose outside of issuing yet another, albeit minor at this point, instance of evil in the world).  This being said, the prologue in which we find Merrin does not disclose enough sufficient information for the audience to readily concur with the priest’s apprehension, thus seems likewise arbitrary in retrospect. 

   After instituting a discovery plot--a common structural technique that had been exhausted and subsequently abandoned due its overuse in 1950’s horror invasion narratives--William Friedkin gives us a trite, unchallenging tale in which a silent man savior (cf. Westerns) saves the day as he thwarts the unequivocal powers of evil.  What results is a quarter of the film being wasted in that Friedkin attempts to develop his characters but fails because the audience is apathetic toward the abused child and isn’t saddened once Merrin is killed, all largely due to the sensationalistic manner in which the writer’s moralistic didacticism precedes all other facets of the story.  Of course, though obvious to some, it seems that the filmmakers accomplished their task exceedingly well in that The Exorcist was not only nominated for ten Academy Awards, but was also banned as a Video Nasty in Britain--thus affirming is notoriety and success in outlining and breaking its own moral legislation--and voted Scariest Film of All-Time by Entertainment Weekly as filmgoers continue to applaud this highly condemnable, heavily weighted work.

   Trivia tidbits:  Jane Fonda, Shirley MacLaine, Audrey Hepburn, and Anne Bancroft were approached to play the role of Chris MacNeil and Marlon Brando was suggested to play Merrin but, at the insistence of Blatty, was never given the opportunity on account that the star would overshadow the work.  Also, Stanley Kubrick, Peter Bogdanovich, and Mike Nichols declined helming the feature.

 -Egregious Gurnow

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