Exorcist fans are partying like it's 1973, with the recent big screen showings of the extended director's cut of the movie as well as the soon-to-be-released Blu-ray special edition that contains unseen behind-the-scenes footage. Additionally, the next issue of Cinema Retro (#19) will feature a cover story on the film and an exclusive interview with William Peter Blatty.  Adding to the hoopla, the Museum of Modern Art in New York just hosted a special event relating to the film. 

By David Savage

The Museum of Modern Art’s famed Titus Theater was the setting for an unforgettable evening last Wednesday, September 29^th, as director William Friedkin, actress Linda Blair, and other crew members reunited for a screening of The Exorcist: The Extended Director’s Cut. The event was timed to celebrate the upcoming release of a landmark new collector’s edition, two-disc Blu-ray™ set, available beginning October 5^th from Warner Home Video.

Projected on the big screen in a spectacular, remastered print in 1080p from the original camera negative, and with restored sound that revealed subtleties from the original score and sound reel seemingly lost under a layer of murk until now, the entire experience was like a layer of sooty tape had been lifted off the entire film, both heightening its cinematographic beauty as well as restoring its power to drop jaws as it did 37 years ago. The theater’s Dolby processor/ 5.1 surround system seemed to turn up the aural and emotional volume on the terror.

While the film is routinely included in the horror genre, Friedkin stressed that it was never intended to be a horror film, but rather “a film about the mystery of faith.” Indeed, he confirmed with novelist and screenwriter William Peter Blatty (onstage after the screening) that they never mentioned the word horror during the entire production. Every decision they made, Friedkin said, was steeped in research, realism and getting at the truthful representation of the characters’ confrontation with religious belief. Horror-film conventions were irrelevant, he said, a perspective which influenced everything from the screenwriting to the cinematography.

Personally, I’ve always maintained (and Friedkin’s remarks seemed to back me up) that the film is only on the surface about the demonic possession of a little girl. Its deeper focus lies on a priest’s crisis of faith. As he tries to come to terms with the role he played in the neglect and death of his mother, he must also negotiate his own moral crossroads as he decides whether or not to get involved with a real-life exorcism involving an innocent 13 year-old girl.

Even at their most shocking and (to people of faith) sacrilegious, the scenes involving the demonic possession of Regan do not play as gratuitous, a point further echoing Friedkin’s contention stated above. There is a seriousness of purpose and, strangely enough, a palpable piety in the treatment of desecration, sacrilege and heresy. Again, Blatty and Friedkin, together with cinematographer Owen Roizman (also present), discussed for months before shooting began how they were going to approach such explosive subject matter in a manner that would not involve genre-conventions, shock appeal or empty, transgressive gestures toward organized religion.

After the screening, audience members were given the treat of a lifetime to see Friedkin joined on the stage, first by novelist and Oscar-winning screenwriter (for this film) William Peter Blatty, then by cinematographer Owen Roizman (who also lensed Friedkin’s The French Connection), then by Linda Blair (looking fit and lovely at 51), and finally by Chris Newman, the sound maestro on the film.

Blatty and Friedkin sparred like the old friends they are, with Blatty mercilessly teasing Friedkin about a continuity lapse in one scene, which Friedkin rebutted with “Bill, I view that like cracks in fine leather.” Their tone underscored the family atmosphere that was established while working on the film and which continues to this day.

By Todd Garbarini

My introduction to Ralph Bakshi’s animation came in November 1978 when I turned ten. My father had been a fan of J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings series and, after having seen Rankin and Bass’ The Hobbit cartoon the year before, I was eager to see the new large-screen treatment of Tolkien’s beloved adventure. Up until this point, all of the cartoons that I had seen theatrically were made by Walt Disney, with the exception of Charlotte’s Web (1973), Raggedy Ann and Andy: A Musical Adventure and The Mouse and His Child, both from 1977. So, along with Watership Down, it was unusual to see a cartoon aimed at adults and rated PG.

To my young eyes, The Lord of the Rings did not disappoint. I loved the music (I still have the 8-track!) and the visual style (including the rotoscoped scenes wherein the animators drew over live-action, which invoked much consternation from others with whom I debated the film’s merits). It was not until some years later that I became more aware of Mr. Bakshi’s previous filmography which included the very-adult-oriented Fritz the Cat, Heavy Traffic, and Wizards, the latter of which played frequently as a midnight show at the Middlesex Mall cinema in South Plainfield, NJ.

Despite recalling the ads for American Pop, Hey Good Lookin’ and actually seeing Cool World theatrically, one film seemed to get lost in the shuffle. Although it had an August 1983 theatrically release date, Fire and Ice, a sword and sorcery epic that I caught up with on VHS in 1991, completely slipped by me. I would imagine that due to the prevalence of like-minded fare in the early 80’s (think Conan the Barbarian, The Beastmaster, The Sword and the Sorcerer, Krull, Hearts and Armour, etc.), Mr. Bakshi jumped on the bandwagon with this film, collaborating with none other than artist Frank Frazetta, the indisputable king of fantasy art. Fortunately, Blue Underground, William Lustig’s wonderful DVD and Blu Ray company, has released this film in both formats.