I have watched The Exorcist umpteen times, and remain in complet e awe of the motion picture experience every time. Or coming to terms with the experience of the film, but also the amorous admiration of the vast brilliance of the filmmaking on display. The provocation and thought-trail, a kind of unlimited reflection of not just placing yourself in the hands of a demon. One of the most remarkable aspects of the film’s magnetism is just how it leaves you afterwards (and indeed during). And not just the first time, on repeat viewings. The aesthetic and haunting of The Exorcist live long after you watch it too. Plus, there are strong elements of the reality of dwelling with such horrific circumstances, and, of course, the struggles and strengths of religion, faith, vocation, good, evil, humanity. A very intellectual thriller, too, more so in William Peter Blatty‘s novel.
A strong dramatic strand exists through the depiction of a small family (in a huge house).
Horror, though, is not the film’s only forte. The Exorcist, as well as being a phenomenon and decades-long conversation starter, is one of the very, very best horror films ever to grace a screen. Whatever age ranges of my life these memories depict, I always knew The Exorcist was indeed a very special film. I mean, that in itself makes it a great temptation, a banned film I was too young to see, from the 1970s, playing locally every week. Just this one showing, once a week, at this one cinema.Ī film I held in prestige then, a horror film so shocking it was banned in the UK for a while.
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Anyway, choosing a movie to see is always an exciting prospect, no matter your age, but back then when scanning the cinematic menu in the newspaper, I recall seeing a late night showing of The Exorcist for what seemed liked every single weekend. An exciting feat in itself, lashing through the big paper pages until you spotted the cinema logo – usually somewhere near the back, but I still flicked from the front. I remember growing up, probably in childhood, teenhood too, maybe even a part of adulthood, when you used to flick through the newspapers to check the cinema listings. And as much as people reading this who were here then are likely to huff and label me lucky, I beg to differ. But alas, we shall never know, I can’t put myself completely in that time, I was not on this good Earth back then. I’m pretty certain those reactions would not have befallen me. Or even left the theater as it was all too much for them. I’d like to think, back then, seeing that film for the first time on the big screen I would not have been one of those cinema-goers that actually threw up while watching it. Of all the excellent movies that drift in and out of my abstract nostalgia, not many fill that yearning more than The Exorcist from 1973. Often I wonder with a kind of disappointed enthusiasm, what it was like to actually be around to see some of cinema’s greatest motion pictures when they first went on general release in theaters.
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