The creation and aftermath of the notorious Exorcist II: The Heretic, along with the line of art and artist, is explored in David Kittredge’s uproarous, strangely uplifting, and often unbelievable documentary BOORMAN AND THE DEVIL.
Oh, Exorcist II: The Heretic (no The to start the title, btw). What a wild, weird, utterly flabbergasting mess of a film you are. But also engagingly odd, a curious misfire of conflicting creation. Following the smashing scary success of The Exorcist, becoming such a massive phenomenon, it was pretty much destined to fail. I’m not going to mince words; it did. Spectacularly and on several fronts. How that film came together, driven by John Boorman, the English film director of Excalibur, Zardoz, and Deliverance, barely if at all, is one hell (heh) of a story. Thus, it’s a perfect tale to base a documentary upon, and writer-director David Kittredge does so with amazing gusto, crafting a fully fascinating, engaging, and outright funny documentary. Not only a great documentary, but a damned good movie on its own merits. In fact, the story is so weird and unexpected in turns; if it wasn’t the true story as told by the people who were there, you wouldn’t believe it. Boorman and The Devil is a beautiful film about recognizing something that might be a black mark, asking the viewer to appraise and think about cultural expectations and remembrance.
I know you might think, “Bob, I know I’ve seen The Heretic, but it’s been a while. I remember something about locusts and Richard Burton. Oh yeah, some weird ass device that makes the whole thing silly, as much as Louise Fletcher tries to make it work. I don’t remember the details.” Don’t worry. I don’t either. And I watched the film before watching Boorman and the Devil at SIFF this year (so, yes, this review is for a film I saw over three months ago but sat on until its regular release). And as I revisit the review for editing in August, I can vaguely recall the plot points. And I’ve seen it a half dozen times overall. However, Kitteridge allows the audience in neatly and succinctly, letting the details of the film unfold as he works the story behind the scenes as the product, a nd this IS a product, is molded, altered, producer-noted, pushed back on.
Part of the fun of these sorts of documentaries is the wonderful reveals as the story continues, and while, yes, you can go to Wikipedia or the internet to find the story, I’m leaving it to the movie. As much as I want to talk about so many details, best to keep surprises as Kitteridge reveals them. But fantastically, this isn’t a talking head giving, “and THIS happened!” Kitteridge works the structure, while keeping it roughly chronologically, with fantastic set-ups and payoffs. Earned payoffs in the “oh that’s where that’s going” and in truly hilarious results. The film has a wonderful self-aware, self-deprecating quality when it comes ot The Heretic. However, it is honest in its assessment, not trying to convince a lost greatness but to understand the film as it is. There’s no meanness, no jeering.
It works because of the love. As said above, Exorcist II: The Heretic isn’t a partially good movie. But this isn’t How Did This Get Made?, as much as I love their work. Boorman vs the Devil isn’t a riffaway. There’s a true love in discussing how a film comes together, or doesn’t. A positivity in forcing through any issues, and there were plenty, often jaw-dropping and more than a standard troubled production: Boorman’s weird sickness, Richard Burton’s drunken antics, Blair’s dealing with new fame, budget and script changes, and more. It’s a testament to the power of love for the film, for art, and for commercialism. There’s a reminder that so many people put in hard work and care, with many of the issues that make the film a jumbled weirdness being fully out of their hands. Much of the issue is too many cooks, and the cooks at the studio and the cooks on the creative end wanting to make a different stew (see also Exorcist novelist and adaptor William Peter Blatty’s version of Exorcist II: The Ninth Configuration).
John Boorman is at the center, and he’s a hoot. In his 90s, but still erudite and filled with life and knowledge, he’s someone I can hear talk for so long. And you can on Arrow’s massive Excalibur set earlier this year. Also featuring Kitteridge for commentary on that film, Boorman is a filmmaker who makes rather odd films with his particular strangeness, vim, and vigor, but treads the line of commercial viability. The studios love him, and he makes products that slide into a niche that overflows a bit into the mainstream. Hearing his thoughts really sets the film; it gives a better appreciation for the Heretic and almost convinces me it’s a better film. Boorman is also joined by nearly everyone still alive from the time, along with fans – great stories of folks who saw it at release- and Mike Flanagan, Kayrn Kusama, Joe Dante, and others in Hollywood circles. I particularly liked something Flanagan (who is currently working on his own Exorcist film) said, which might be seen as a thesis for the film: (I paraphrase) What makes a failure, what makes a success, whose fault is it?”
Kitteridge keeps it all moving with a distinct visual sense. No mere talking heads, continual Zoom-call style. He builds with clips, cuts, wonderful drawing and art-animatic style, charts (yes, really), and other methods to keep it peppy and fun. While this is Kittredge’s first feature as director after producing and editing Shudder’s excellent Queer for Fear, he has a great touch for telling these stories, elevating them past the source.
Far more than a special feature on the next Exorcist II disc release, Boorman and the Devil is a full-fledged entertainment machine. David Kittredge puts together a fantastic, fascinating, and hilarious documentary on the infamous making of an infamous film. Failure of a film in The Heretic or not, the documentary serves as a celebration of creation, no matter the odds. Put it on the shelf next to Hearts of Darkness and Burden of Dreams, and American Movie on the best of the hows behind it all.