(Originally published by the Daily News on December 27, 1973. This story was written by Kathleen Carroll.)
“The Exorcist,” at Cinema I, may not be a great film. It is, however, a brilliantly successful horror movie. It has scenes that are terrifying beyond words. It does not matter if you have read William Peter Blatty’s original novel and know what to expect. One still recoils from those scenes in total shock and revulsion. It is one thing to read about a case of demonic possession. It is quite another thing to see it; to see the furniture fly across a frigid room, to see the ugly sores erupt on the victim’s face, to see the eyes turn fiendish with hate, and to see a snarling beast assert itself in the body of a child.
Director William Friedkin, with his scrupulous attention to detail, his determination to convey a sense of realism, achieves such startling effects that one comes away almost completely convinced of the possibility of demonic possession. His movie rushes headlong towards a blood-curling climax (the actual rite of exorcism), a series of scenes so powerful it leaves the audience limp and exhausted.
The story – for those who have not read Blatty’s book – concerns a movie star (Blatty admits the character was inspired by actress Shirley MacLaine) who is doing a film in Washington, D.C. and is living, temporarily, in a charming house in Georgetown. Her daughter, a glowing, affectionate child, lives with her and they have a very warm intimate relationship
One night the daughter urinates on the carpet, in front of guests. She complains of not being able to sleep because of a shaking bed. The doctors try agonizing brain tests, then psychological tests. They find no explanation. The mother, sitting at a conference table full of doctors, finally screams in frustration, “88 doctors and all you can tell me is you’re sorry.” “Have you ever heard of exorcism,” one doctor suggests politely.
She arranges to meet a priest, a Father Karras, who agrees to see the child. The child has by now become a grotesque “thing” that speaks in a chilling, hideous voice, spitting out vomit and the most vile obscenities. Still for possession to be acknowledged by the Catholic Church, it must be proved. Father Karras needs evidence that it is the devil himself speaking, not a child suffering from terrible delusions.
Although it is never clear that he finds such evidence, an elderly priest (no one could play him better than Max Von Sydow for his face, even made to look worn and old, radiates a certain spirituality) is assigned to the case. And the exorcism begins.
Friedkin’s problem is that he has a tendency to rush too much. In his haste, he sacrifices character development. The book was rich in psychological insight. Blatty’s screenplay is not. The actors are given very little to do but react. But they are all superb, particularly Jason Miller as the guilt-ridden Father Karras. His brooding, anxious face suggests that he is suffering internally and that he is a priest who is beginning to have doubts. Ellen Burstyn is extremely believable as the mother. Her anger and her anguish pierces the heart.
One regrets that there wasn’t more of Lee J. Cobb (as Lt. Kinderman, who was a much more complex and interesting character in the book) or more of Kitty and the late Jack MacGowran (whos talents are completely wasted). As for Linda Blair as the afflicted child – how does one judge such a performance? She is so lovely one hopes only that she survived unscathed.
In spite of its weaknesses, “The Exorcist” is a movie that will haunt you and, finally, take possession of you.
