I saw The Exorcist: Believer

The Exorcist franchise is a long and varied one, with the subtitled Believer now possessing theaters. The movie, produced/released through Blumhouse and Universal, is directed by David Gordon Green, who cowrote with Peter Sattler, David McBride and Scott Teems. (As fans know, Green and his deft disciples orchestrated the acclaimed, Halloween sequel-trilogy.)

In some ways, this sequel (like the underrated, Fox, two-season series) is much more in tune with William Peter Blatty/William Friedkin's 1973 fright fest than other chapters (or their many knockoffs), delivering a clear-cut, devilish, double whammy, with two girls falling under a demon's puppetizing command. 

The Regan MacNeil surrogates are schoolmates named Katherine and Angela, portrayed by Olivia Marcum and Lidya Jewett, who become "infected" after traveling into the woods one afternoon, only to reappear three, Jesus-days later (a Travis Walton abduction, one might argue, though seeping from the netherworld). Neither girl deserves the conjoined possession, of course, and their unholy disease (as was the case with Linda Blair's legendary victim) builds with subtlety, marked by the anticipated, telltale tropes. 

The liturgical ascent succeeds, not merely because of Green's proficient pacing, but because of the quality of its characters. Those who leap in to combat the ethereal manipulator (maybe, just maybe, Pazuzu) are of diverse faith (with Catholicism no longer the sole weapon), all joined for a communal, eradicating cause. (For the record, a similar element occurs in Halloween Ends.)

In addition to Marcum and Jewett, there's Leslie Odom Jr. as Victor Fielding, a compassionate, intervening father (and the movie's adult lead); Tracy Graves as his voodoo-anointed wife, Sorenne; Jennifer Neetles as Miranda Marcum; Norbert Leo Butz as her husband, Tony; Okwui Okpokwsili as ritualist Dr. Beehibe; E.J. Bonilla as Father Maddox; Ann Dowd as Nurse Ann (an almost-nun); Raphael Sbarge as Baptist Pastor Don Revans; Danny McCarthy as Pentecostal Pastor Stuart; and in a much appreciated return, Ellen Burstyn as Chris MacNeil (who contrary to what some spout, holds a substantial, supporting role.) 

Those who don the Van Helsing gloves for this big, demonic brawl are, in truth, performing as therapists, pulled into the maelstrom through sheer chance and then maddening desperation; but fear not! Though they may slip during their bout (and casualties occur, both in mind and body), they tap their convictions to strike back, no matter how many ploys their adversary. swings. It's all a matter of faith ... inner, personal faith, which is all one has after the religious garnishing is stripped. 

Unlike this year's The Pope's Exorcist, which uses its possessed child to reveal a startling secret, Believer, like the Blatty/Friedkin classic, acts as an allegory for child abuse, as well as its remedial, committed purgation. The alluded concerns and related attempts, as featured in both submissions, should resonate in the grimy present where pedophilia is often greeted by a blind eye or blanketed by ludicrous terms that allow fiends to revel in their deeds. Indeed, at face value, the original novel/movie and this particular sequel aren't overt denouncements of such behavior (the Elm Street chapters are more apparent in this respect, if only for their repeated, teen violations), but Believer's carnal insinuation is impossible to overlook or dismiss. 

With that said, Believer reminds its audience that there truly are demons in the world, whether of the spirit or the flesh. The battle waged against either audacious opposition characterizes the movie to a purposeful point, even if the content is concealed by profuse, philosophical discussions, practical effects, jolting scares and Mike Oldfield's pervading "Tubular Bells", as enclosed within David Wingo and Ammon Abbasi's intense score. The movie's not-so-secret intent (even if superfluous in the eyes of some) resonates beyond its familiarity, and on that platform is akin to a luminary seminar. Any such high-minded lesson is worth pursuing for those interested in the human condition, both the good and bad of it.  

LIFE'S THE EXORCIST: THE SCARIEST MOVIE EVER

As The Exorcist: Believer waits in the devilish wings, Life's The Exorcist: The Scariest Movie Ever (50 Spine-Chilling Years) possesses retail shelves. 

This extensive periodical, written by Gina McIntyre, covers the many facets of The Exorcist's frightening and moralistic reign, including author, William Peter Blatty's shocking yet inspirational novel and its sequels/prequels, with reverent emphasis on the demanding yet ingenious director William Friedkin's groundbreaking adaptation (scripted by Blatty) and the additional, talented artisans who helped make it a soul-shaking classic. 

Biographies on performers Jason Miller, Max Von Sydow, Ellen Burstyn, Linda Blair and Mercedes McCambridge (the demon, Pazuzu's voice) are highlighted. (Alas, Lee J. Cobb gets lost in the shuffle). The bios are accompanied by overviews on set-design disputes, effects challenges levied at makeup artist, Dick Smith, as well as the inclusion of Mike Oldfield's ominous "Tubular Bells," which by a quirk of fate, became the movie's prime (and eponymous) theme music. 

For marginal support, portions of McIntyre's text cover historical and folkloric exorcisms, such as the the notorious, Mt. Rainier case that inspired Blatty's tale, as well as the continued, pop-cultural speculation on whether the production was, in fact, demon-plagued.  

Above all, readers are given a valuable view of why this rattling parable (courageous clerics attempting to rescue a defiled child through the pure power of their faith) continues to resonate over fifty years after its release.

The Exorcist: The Scariest Movie Ever is available at drugstores and supermarkets nationwide. 

FATHOM EVENTS/TCM PRESENTS THE EXORCIST: A WILLIAM FRIEDKIN/50TH ANNIVERSARY TRIBUTE

The Exorcist (extended cut with 4K restoration) returns to cinemas with a 50th-anniversary rerelease from Fathom Events, hosted by TCM's John Mankiewicz. 

The movie, based on William Peter Blatty's moralistic novel (and scripted, no less, by the author), spewed shockwaves upon its day-after-Christmas, 1973 advent, leading it to become a revered blockbuster. 

The Exorcist's cast is eponymous with the terror tale: Linda Blair, Jason Miller, Max Von Sydow, Ellen Burstyn, Lee J. Cobb ... Mercedes Cambridge. Its foreboding, theme music, Mike Oldfield's "Tubular Bells," remains one the most recognized pieces in movie history. Indeed, from every vantage and from start to end, The Exorcist is the epitome of a thought-provoking, pop-cultural breakthrough. 

Thanks to Blatty's allegorical angle, The Exorcist also plays like a religious rendition of Rocky, with underdog Father Damien Karras tapping his fractured faith to liberate the abused Regan MacNeil from the figurative, supernatural pedophile, Pazuzu. Director William Friedkin stirs the suspense, using pensive, slow-burn shuffles that engage one from the earliest, mysterious frames, only later to pepper one's soul with pugnacious, round-after-round, good-vs-evil jabs.   

The Exorcist revival acts as a memorial to the late, great Friedkin, who passed away this August. Many consider The Exorcist his greatest achievement. To re-experience his jarring jewel seems a respectable gesture, as it repossesses theaters Oct 1 and 4. 

SO LONG, WILLIAM FRIEDKIN

You were on a level that so few could match, spurring action, satire, outside-the-box melodrama and classic horror, often combining the phantasmagorical with reality to consistent, chilling effect. 

And each and every one of your products rests on that know-how perch: The French Connection; The Brink's Job; Bug '06; The Guardian '90; 12 Angry Men '97; The Hunted '03; Rampage; Killer Joe; Rules of Engagement; Jailbreakers; The Birthday Party; Good Times; Blue Chips; Deal of the Century; Fritz Lang Interviewed by William Friedkin; The People vs Paul Crump; The Bold Men; Mayhem on a Sunday Afternoon; The Night They Raided Minsky's; Jade; The Boys in the Band; Cruising; and the cultish and sardonic To Live and Die in L.A. (And for those in the know, high anticipation now surrounds The Caine Mutiny Court Martial: no doubt, another thought-provoking triumph.) Much can also be said of your contributions to CSI, The Alfred Hitchcock Hour, HBO's Tales from the Crypt and the 1980s Twilight Zone. 

Some say (and it's not much of a stretch) that your adaptation of William Peter Blatty's The Exorcist is your crowning achievement: a study in abject fright that continues to resonate, due to your taut, careful direction and remarkable faithfulness to the source. (Your documentary/companion piece, The Devil & Father Amorth, and Alexandre O. Philippe's William Friedkin on the Exorcist only confirm your macabre achievement's impact on the age-old rift of good against evil.) 

However, those of another camp consider Sorcerer (your noble variant of Georges Arnoud/Henri-Georges Clouzot's The Wages of Fear) to be your crème de la crème. Indeed, in the way its nail-biting sequences notch upward and onward from suffocating and sweat-drenched frustration, it stands as a nightmarish, adventure masterpiece all unto itself. 

Right from the start, you were part of the cinematic elite, without ever once wishing to rub elbows with it: a hard, merciless man whose genius was worth ever harsh word and startling stunt. That's because what you gave us is every ounce cinematic gold, and for that, Mr. Friedkin, we give our undying thanks.