Review: The Exorcist: Believer

Year: 2023

Director: David Gordon Green

Screenplay:  David Gordon Green, Peter Sattler

Starring: Leslie Odom Jr., Ann Dowd, Jennifer Nettles, Norbert Leo Butz, Lidya Jewett, and Olivia Marcum, Ellen Burstyn

Synopsis is here:

Halfway through The Exorcist: Believer, Chris McNeil (Burstyn), the mother whose 12-year-old girl Regan fell victim to demonic possession, claims that she was never allowed into the room during her daughter's possession due to the “damn patriarchy”. In the screening that I was in, the line gained an audible “right on” cheer. In wrestling, such a moment could be considered a “cheap pop”.  It is a tawdry way to incite a reaction from a crowd. The vulgarity becomes evident later in the film when a grim incident befouls Chris, a mother who had suffered so much in the original film is dismissively wasted in this new legacy sequel 50 years on. The Exorcist: Believer doesn’t give a toss about feminism. It barely cares about the women in its narrative. But it knows that simply referring is enough.

There isn't much more to say about William Friedkin’s 1973 seminal adaptation of William Peter Blatty’s novel The Exorcist that hasn’t already been said. Its reputation proceeds it. A film that now constantly tops the best horror ever lists. Its infamy entails a troubled production, rating controversies and initial mixed reactions from critics. 50 years on, the aura surrounding the film has never quelled. It remains a fascinating film which despite its intentions, has allowed the contents of the production to be argued and debated for years. Its success also allowed the studios to greenlight a multitude of sequels and prequels to mixed reactions.

The Exorcist: Believer has been delivered to audiences by David Gordon Green. A director whose filmography has a whiplash effect if you read it too fast. When he first appeared on the scene, Green was touted as the new Terrance Malick. His early films were small-town indie darlings, well-loved by the critical faculty. 2008 marked the release of the stoner comedy Pineapple Express and Green’s “loosely goosy” era with the director’s changing to television sitcoms such as the remarkable Eastbound and Down (2009) to the risibly dull Your Highness (2011). After a mix match of comedy dramas, Green found himself injecting new life into the Halloween series, creating a new trilogy which followed directly on from the 1978 classic. Despite the response for each entry falling on a sliding scale, the trilogy moved the mythology forward politically. Commentating on the festering nature of evil. The move from slasher to demonic procession feels less of a surprise now than a stoned James Franco.

The same ambition that took many by surprise in Green’s Halloween trilogy could have given The Exorcist: Believer a desperately needed shot in the arm. However, like many other entries to the franchise that proceed before it, Believer fails to grasp what made the original movie so startling 50 years ago.

The biggest gripe with Believer lies with its reliance on pandering to its inbuilt audience. Believer is totally in love with referring to the film which came before it. Visual references to Friedkin’s film litter the screen. It is a film which uses constant callbacks in a way that wants to show how much the filmmakers have liberated from the original film. Although it never really considers that the viewer could be watching that instead. In fairness Green and cinematographer Micheal Simmons do a handsome job visually, giving the film a rich and textured film from a tonal point of view. Yet the problem lies in the fact that often, there seems to be no constructive reason for its visual homages. The film opens with the familiar moment of two dogs fighting, a clear nod to the moment when Father Merrin spots two angry canines duelling in the Iraqi desert. There is no real reason to rehash this moment in Believer, other than to say: “We’ve rehashed this visual moment for The Exorcist: Believer. Originally the moment provided meaning. An amount of dread and tension felt from a priest knowing soon he would tangle with an old foe once more. Believer isn’t interested in that. It suffers from the same IP flu that infects many franchised-based films today. It wants you to tilt your head and say, “I know that reference”. But it’s not bothered in locating meaning.

Because of elements like this, it becomes quick to realise that Believer isn’t interested in anything it touches upon. Sticking close to the original film's M.O. save for cluttering scenes with needless characters, making the story about two possessed girls and giving the film a slight racial bent, Believer annoyingly suggests kernels of a more potent story but is too scared to leap. Its main thread, of a single Black father who must reclaim his faith if he is to save his child, is woefully underrepresented. The screenplay lacks the weight to match Leslie Odel Jr.’s bold performance as the unfortunate father. Believer suggests racial tension but smooths things over as quickly as it started. One plot point has a character confront the fact that he had to make a life-or-death choice between two members of his immediate family. Said choice is never truly explored in any meaningful way, as it would rather waste time having Ellen Burstyn vaguely talking about spirituality. Burstyn who cannily took the role of Chris again to get an actors scholarship program off the ground, notably rejected taking up the role again until this point. It’s easy to see why she had no interest. Burstyn is only here as a reminder of what’s been before. But at least hopefully her program will allow us to enjoy more actors like her in the future.

Even without all the legacy pandering, what we get is a rather dull possession horror which does little to scare and unsettle. It relies way too much on tropes we’ve not only seen from the first film but in various possession films since. It humourlessly goes through all the motions with little understanding of what made the original film so disturbing. Blatty’s source novel, as well as Friedkin’s film, manages to attach the weight of faith upon its despairing characters. It’s frightening because you care. It enjoys being about the eternal battle between good and evil. The Exorcist: Believer doesn’t even have the strength to take on The Pope’s Exorcist, also released this year. It hasn’t got time to care. It’s more interested in being yet another reference movie. A constant reminder you could be watching something else instead.   

Review: Silence

Year: 2016 (U.K Release: 2017)
Director: Martin Scorsese
Screenplay: Jay Cocks, Martin Scorsese
Starring: Andrew Garfield, Adam Driver

Synopsis is here:

It's fascinating to me that after dividing audiences with The Wolf of Wall Street (2013), in which we watch a man sell his soul for greed with the greatest of ease, Martin Scorsese decides to follow up his rowdy and wildly successful dark comedy with a quiet passion project about two priests doing what they can to save their own souls.

What we have here is a religious heart of darkness. An odyssey about spiritual nourishment which strangely left me longing. Silence is tough to "get" and you feel it's length. But it doesn't transcend in the same way Tree of Life (2011) did, or nor does it ever becomes as replenishing as Of Gods and Men (2010).

Having recently seen The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928), I was astounded by its simple elegance. A silent movie which as profound as it is simple. Perhaps due to the limitations, or simple artistic choice, the film's stripped-down nature and decision to shoot in mostly tight close-up was a masterstroke. Capturing the defiance, grace and catharsis of a woman, whose faith is put to the very test.  Silence is a meticulous exercise of craft in which very frame is a painting, every inch of blocking is precise and yet that seems to be what restrains it. It's beautiful to watch, with Scorsese highlighting his love for the moving image, even though the roving camera, we know him for is knowingly still. Here it is patient. Less reactive. It's a stillness, which feels likened to Ozu than the rock and roll director of Mean Streets. It is a choice made for contemplation, although I'm not sure it captures the emotion that flows through the likes of Carl Theodor Dreyer's film

Marty's so-called "lesser" modern works have often entertained due to the director being enraptured with the pulp of cinema. The long-distilled conversations that occur in Silence seem to try and force their way into the bloodstream, and at the films best, it moves with a quiet drama. However, I'm never transported as I am here than I am with his more trashier entries, maybe because despite their rich cinematic foundations, they appear to be more effortless. Silence's glacial pacing and combative conversations are never drawn out to the point of tedium, but they are not always easy to digest, even at when the conflicts reach their peak of friction. Silence often feels more like a sometimes-satisfying thesis, more than anything. At times the experience is draining, at some points compelling, but through its running time, it always felt distant. Even more so now after time contemplating.

Smaller gripes include Latin accents which fall out of sync while the English from some of the Japanese cast is at times difficult to pick up. While these are minor issues, they still all hold an ability to keep a viewer at a distance from its stoic protagonists. Both Adam Driver and Andrew Garfield give high tier performances, but neither performances are delivered to reel you in. Compared to Willem Dafoe complicated performance in Scorsese’s The Last Temptation of Christ (1988), both Driver and Garfield, never engage us at the same level. With previous Scorsese films, we could cope with the distance of his lonely men, often due to their villainy. With Silence, much of the space placed between the protagonists and the audience is due to arrogance. With this, it is difficult to walk alongside them. Unlike the ethereal Tree of Life (2011) or even visceral The Exorcist (1973), which both find ways to invoke ways to connect with the human element. This stays extremely difficult until it's coda.

In a world that is becoming increasingly more secular, a film like this feels like a diamond in the rough. For the viewer, it will be easy to see Silence as difficult to get to grips with. Sombre, solemn and deliberately paced. This is a film which requires its viewer to do the work, and even then, the rewards may feel fleeting.

Review: The Babadook

Year: 2014
Director: Jennifer Kent
Screenplay: Jennifer Kent
Starring: Essie Davis, Noah Wiseman, Daniel Henshall, Hayley McElhinney, Barbara West
Ben Winspea

Synopsis is here

The horror films I enjoy usually contain what I call an "Exorcist moment". This is a single disquieting scene, sequence or shot that often slips past the major scares, but stains my memories like blood on a carpet. In The Exorcist, the moment in which Father Karras envisions his recently deceased mother on the bed, rarely gets mentioned amongst the pea soup vomit and head spinning, but it is the moment that unsettles me the most. There's something about that moment of disquiet that unnerves me. Something deeply primal.

The Babadook; a debut horror feature by Jennifer Kent, is so in love with primal fears, it's no surprise that it holds its own "Exorcist moment". The film's weary protagonist; Amelia, exhausted from lack of sleep and haunted by the grief of losing her husband, notices a near impossible image during a news report. It's a Lynchian moment played out just around the tipping point of the film. Kent's film had pulled me far enough through the ringer so that when this small moment occurs, I was genuinely spooked. I gained that same sense of unease I felt with Karras' mother. When it comes to scares, for me, it's always the little things.

The Babadook plays little a forgotten gem of yesteryear. Horror now often operates by trying to bamboozle the viewer with successive BOO moments. The Babadook isn't too interested in the cheap thrill. It wants to unsettle, and does so with an impassioned love of older cinema. Its title character is one that harks back to the expressionism of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920) and toys with similar psychological themes. Our protagonist Amelia (Davis); is a timid and haunted soul, who is struggling to cope with the loss of her husband, who died in an accident while they were on their way to give birth to their son. This mixture of survivor guilt and grief grows within the character like a festering wound. Amelia works in care, but seems repelled by her son. She longs for intimacy, yet is reluctant to allow herself to let go. Suddenly an intensely troubling pop-up book appears in her son's room and then the trouble occurs.

The Babadook feels much like Ringu (1998) or Paperhouse (1988) in that there's a horrid feeling of dread that is difficult to really shake off. The tautly wound performances from its leads keep the film's anxiety levels high, while its ashy grey cinematography and constant tight close ups, not only give the film a sense of texture but a foreboding sense of claustrophobia. This is combined with a screenplay with a strong emphasis on the banality and sadness that comes with loss and economical set pieces that are far more interested in what you thought you saw than what you going to see. If other films were as invested in its humans than its monsters, I feel I'd be scared at the movies more often.

 

 

 

 

Review: Evil Dead

Year: 2013

Director: Fede Alvarez

Screenplay: Fede Alvarez, Rodo Sayagues, Diablo Cody

Starring: Jane Levy, Shiloh Fernandez, Lou Taylor Pucci, Jessica Lucas, Elizabeth Blackmore

Synopsis is here

If there's one complaint I have with remakes, it is that there seems to be a belief that cash is a perfect match up to go up against an original product in which it basis was created around fearlessness, accident and dedication to the vision. The belief of traipsing over the first rendition is not new, nor is it one I completely disagree with. But films like The Evil Dead are a perfect example. The timing is off, acting iffy and at the worst of times the camera placement decapitates more heads than the axe does in the film itself. But it's budget limitation quickly becomes part of its essence. It is considered not only a horror classic, but a horror untouchable. A piece that should not be touched in order to be retouched, redone or remade. But of course in this day and age that means even less than before. 

So here we are with a remake of Evil Dead, something that many feel shouldn't be. Much like the name of one of the demons that appear within this redux, some will consider this an Abomination. It's understandable. It is definitely not your fathers The Evil Dead, particularly when it comes to delivering a general creepy tone. For all it's thrift, Evil Dead 81 placed hard graft in its general tone. Evil Dead 2013 isn't "scary" and for that it should have failed with me. Yet as a splatterfest, Evil Dead is not only out rivals the original with a plethora of plasma, but it's relentlessness delivery is a huge amount of fun. 

Evil Dead does more than enough to bring a certain degree of wildness back to mainstream U.S. horror. The comparisons to Cabin in the Woods are understandable, however, as subversive as Drew Goddard wink to the fans was, Evil Dead wishes to remind you that such movies can be played out without snark and still bring around enough abject weirdness to make it stand apart from some of the more drab modern counterparts. The films climatic moments are so brazenly absurd, that I was squirming excitedly in my chair with a disturbing amount of bloodlust. 

Not to say I didn't want the cast of ED2013 to all perish. Quite simply, the film lands us with a basic yet effective redemption tale with spirited and likeable cast that is able to generate more than a fair amount of suspense. I wanted to know how far we were going to fall down the rabbit hole. Its been a while since I've had that feeling with a gore film of this nature. The film isn't wildly original in its violence (the film borrows liberally from The Exorcist a little too much) nor should it have to be. The film's narrative appears to be more in line with Scream 4 in that the plot is skewed enough to give off the feeling that the demonic intrusions could flip on at any time. There's something disturbingly heartening about having a feeling which any of these old friends can be extinguished. But at least I felt like they know each other. 

It is true that the films slickness is evident in its visuals and set design. While not it doesn't hold the sickly Platinum Dunes palette that drives die hards mad, it could do with a bit more of the originals sweat and grime. You get the feeling that we may see more of this instagram "neatness" to proceedings however let it be known that Evil Dead makes enough of its own impression to imagery that many have gotten used to. 

There will be alterations that might not ring true (how I wish they found the tape), yet there's enough soul to be swallowed by this remake that covers itself with a brutal energy that may help snap some of us out of their found footage ghost story stupor. Evil Dead has set the bar. I now wonder how the delayed remake of Carrie will fair. 

Review: Killer Joe

Year: 2011 (U.K Release 2012)
Director: William Friedkin
Screenplay: Tracy Letts
Starring: Emile Hirsch, Gina Gershon, Thomas Haden Church, Juno Temple, Matthew McConaughey

Synopsis is here


This twisted southern gothic noir, feels like Friedkin and writer Tracey Letts tore chunks from. Double Indemnity (1944) and flung them in boiling hot trans fats. It’s a devilishly amoral tale which is not for audiences who desire a hero to root for.

Considering the landscape of American cinema has mostly been filled adaptations of populist books and comic books, it does surprise when something like this comes along these days. Letts appears to be no Syd Field convert and Friedkin, clearly doesn't care that it's 2012, making a film that has the feel of a director who made films in the 70s. After so many origin stories of ever good superheroes, this upsets the balance like a stone in the foot. At first, it is hard to get into the rhythms. The jump cuts, the offbeat marks of the actors; it's all a little disorientating at first.

But then what do you expect when we're a film that is so combative from the off? Beginning in a thunderous storm we are introduced to the films catalyst, Chris (Hirsch), by a barking dog. We've seen movies like this, when the dog barks, there's trouble afoot. The animals always seem to read the situation best. Having such an aggressive animal intro this character, not only signals that there's trouble a comin' but also supplies an echo back to the fighting dogs from Friedkin’s seminal horror film The Exorcist (1973). Interestingly enough, both The Exorcist and Killer Joe have desperate families looking to an enigmatic stranger to expel evil. The difference here is that everyone in Killer Joe has morals of the Edinburgh toilet in Trainspotting (1996).

The opening gambit is one used down many a noir, Chris has debts and believes that killing his abhorrent (yet mostly unseen) mother for her insurance payout is the right way to go. He manages to rope his dopey father (Church) in to help with proceedings, for no real reason other than they are no longer a couple. They hire Joe Cooper; a detective who’s a hitman on the side, to get the deed done. And the payment? $25,000 when the check clears with Chris' "uncomplicated" sister as a retainer. The moment we meet Dottie (Temple), dressed in virginal white, we can see where things are heading.

Killer Joe plays in the same realm as Herzog's Bad Lieutenant (2009). A sun baked fever dream of dirty dealings and dubious morals. Innocence is a word in the dictionary, if your indebted to loan sharks, you better hope the cops don't like the creditors better. Friedkin has captured a shit of the shoe pocket of existence that lends itself to the likes of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) or even Rob Zombies Halloween (2007). These characters glare at each other with wide eyes and contempt, scrabbling over each other in order to survive. Friedkin captures this energy with the same zeal he had with his earlier films. Here however, he knows the distance we need to keep from these people. He finds the absurd humour that languishes between the lines. At one point, Chris' creditors catch up with him and they enjoy a conversation that one would hold with close friends before the inevitable beat down. The cinematography by Caleb Deschanel captures the contempt and aggression that simmer between the characters. The gaudy blue beams of a strip club, desolate roadside crosses, dry heat sizzle of the day and the thunderstorm nights combine and paint a picture of a town that Texas forgot.

Within all this is an actor who is truly in his element. Matthew McConaughey is truly at his best with this performance. The man appears to be having a purple patch (See The Lincoln Laywer) and all credit is due to him. Joe Cooper is a character with a searing intensity I would never have expected from a leading man who has spent much of the last decade leaning on rom-com posters. Here is a chilling role that taps into the same darkness that was seen in Frailty (2002). Unpredictability looms over every scene he features. We dread every slow step he takes. Meanwhile, I've nearly made up my mind on how I feel about Hirsch as one again I've seen him in a movie in which he appears out of step with everybody else. His exchanges feel stilted (both him and the limited locations remind us that the material was originally a play) but he doesn't fully frustrate. Church and Gershon on the ther hand, are perfect. While Temple is the film’s ying to Joe’s yang, playing the role with enough sympathy for us to feel the risk. "Your eyes hurt" she exclaims to Joe, and we can see why. She is a white trash angel. One who is completely untouched. Joe's seedy, unflinching gaze does nothing but disturb. Is he grooming her to harm her, or is he really infatuated? The balance is struck so fine, it's impossible to detect.

What is detectable is some of the gender politics at play. The often mention fried chicken sequence is one of humiliation that may cause many to bulk. While Joe’s interactions with Dottie are very uncomfortable. A million readers may be tantalised by one Christian Grey but I doubt they'll look at the domination in Killer Joe with the same doe eyes.

Friedkin states that he films are about the thin line between good and evil. It's the same here, although the lines are much more blurred. Much like the little seen Bug (2006), the uneasy energy crackles in the atmosphere. The surroundings are claustrophobic and the people are gasping for air. Despite being so far away and so long ago, Friedkin's direction once again places us in that small bedroom in Washington. As a film maker, one can say he's never really left. I will say that there is something in Tracey Letts work that once again brings out the nasty in Friedkin. The world here feels like an extension of the fishbowl found in Bug. Characters seem to share the same psychosis, willing to fall for so much to keep their fever dreams alive. The films ending is aburpt and will frustrate, but consider it the end of one story and the beginning of another.
I do however, doubt you'll mind too much. Considering how much this film will you drag around in the sand anyway, you may be happy just to get the grit out of our eye.