Rare is the movie in which clergymen are treated as human beings: good, bad, sometimes cynical, sometimes faithful, sometimes doubting, not at all antagonistic toward science, and more eager to turn to doctors and headshrinks than to exorcism. “The Exorcist” does not drown in Church rules but is accessible to all; the sincerity of the actors and the directness of the story make it easy to follow.
Both movies have lost a little of their punch, not by any fault of their own, but because their enormous success led to so much imitation. (“The Omen,” with its mighty James Horner score about a demon-child being born to random parents, is an over-the-top cross pollination of the two films.) This has happened to Friedkin before, whose “The French Connection” has been copied so innumerably that it is easier to technically appreciate than to viscerally enjoy. Part of why we know what lays in wait for Rosemary is because lesser movies have been copying it ever since. Neither “The Exorcist” or “Rosemary’s Baby” is perfect anyway: both films employ repetitive structures in which we witness something, retreat to the kitchen to think about it, witness the same thing more intensely, ponder it again, rinse and repeat. And Lee J. Cobb’s detective in “The Exorcist” is sort of unnecessary. It’s good that some police presence is acknowledged, because in real life there really would be cops all over this, even if dramatically they border on the useless.
Seeing both movies recently, “The Exorcist” hits a little harder, while “Rosemary’s Baby” is more subtle. Intellectually I realize that Polanski’s film is the more sophisticated of the two, while Friedkin’s can be picked apart as a series of mechanical pranks. But intellect rarely has much to do with horror and I spent most “The Exorcist” with a lump in my stomach. “The Exorcist’s” sincerity has won it the appreciation of audiences, while “Rosemary’s” dark snickers have perhaps kept it in higher critical esteem. The former film is a clear battle of faith in which the troubled priest learns to rise above his personal problems and assume Christ’s sacrifice. The battle of the spirit pits holy men against the darkness, yelling the name of the Lord, and what impresses us is not the grossness of what they confront but the simple piety with which they confront it. Having not seen the theatrical release, I can’t say whether this version is better or not, but like many “director’s cuts,” rhythm and pacing have probably been traded for greater information and characterization.
In the DVD commentary Friedkin seems very sincere about “The Exorcist” and the events that inspired William Peter Blatty’s novel. Contrast this with the subtle ironic humor of “Rosemary’s Baby” (hip students of film will always treasure irony more than sincerity). Director Roman Polanski seems to have chosen the pink title cards and the swaying, maternal music to make “Rosemary’s Baby” look like a sick parody of a 1950s women’s picture. When someone finally announces “Hail Satan!” we laugh (nervously), and we know we’re supposed to. This is not quite the same as the way we giggle when we first hear the little piano theme in “The Exorcist.” I guess this is just a roundabout way to say that parts of both movies play as camp now, but “Rosemary’s Baby” survives the camp better.
Both flicks can be found in the Top 10 of the AFI’s Top 100 “Heart-Pounding American Movies.”.
Finished June 12th, 2005
Copyright © 2005 Friday & Saturday Night
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