John Whitehead's Commentary
The Exorcist Was A Cultural Breakpoint
The Exorcist was originally released on December 26, 1973. Although it received an almost unanimous critical dubbing, it went on to make millions. The Exorcist still retains its potency at the box office. Re-released with additional footage and improved sound, the film had the highest dollar average per screen of any movie in the country this past weekend. But The Exorcist was more than a movie. When it was originally released in 1973, it was a cultural breakpoint. Let me explain.
A defining moment came in 1966 when John Lennon, as the Beatles were at the height of their popularity, made his famous statement: "Christianity will go. It will vanish and shrink." The importance of this statement cannot be underestimated, for it challenged the basic fabric of Western society. The gauntlet had been thrown down by the biggest pop icons of the age, and within a year they were bigger than ever.
The intellectuals had already decided that the older views had to go. Time magazine reflected this quite aptly on April 10, 1966 with its sepulchral cover of red-on-black, which asked, "Is God Dead?" Time's cover appeared as the death-of-God movement was peaking.
This same Time cover makes an auspicious appearance in the 1968 film Rosemary's Baby, where a young mother gives birth to Satan's son. The film ends with the Satanists proclaiming: "Hail Satan. His power is stronger and stronger. God is dead."
By 1968, social, racial and generational conflicts were rampant. Cities were burning, as race riots broke out. The Vietnam War was raging. The Summer of Love the year before didn't bring more love. Instead, the spirit of liberation crashed against uncertain realities, producing increased drug use, crime and further cultural schisms. Thus, the affirmations of peace and love quickly faded into cynicism. By the summer of 1968, Martin Luther King, Jr. and Bobby Kennedy had both been assassinated.
Then in the summer of 1969, the Woodstock Music Festival seemed to revive the hope for peace and love. Shortly before the festival, however, Charles Manson's hippie commune had committed grisly murders in Los Angeles. And by the end of 1969, it seemed that there was nothing to believe in. The radicals and the hippies faded into the secularism and materialism of the 1970s, as yuppie-ism became the vogue. But then director William Friedkin's The Exorcist hit screens around the country.
The Exorcist, of course, revolves around Regan, a twelve-year-old girl who, it appears, is possessed by the devil. The scenes of her writhing body and vomit spitting had people in theaters going into convulsions and restating their church vows.
But the real essence of The Exorcist lies in two directions. First, the idea of dehumanizing science pitted against ancient religion is a recurring theme of the film. As Regan is examined by physicians, a barrage of gothic instruments records the tests. She whimpers as the needles pierce her flesh and the machinery of medicine hungrily sucks up her blood. In fact, it was the arteriogram scene that caused vomiting and illness in the audiences that saw the original release. And when the panel of doctors, after all their tests, recommends exorcism for Regan, we see that science is, at times, totally inadequate in the face of ancient religious forces.
The real story of The Exorcist, however, is that of Damien Karras. A priest who has lost his faith, Karras is an archetype, a symbol for a country that had by the late sixties lost its faith. When Chris MacNeil, Regan's mother, first asks Karras for help with an exorcism, he responds: "Well, the first thing, I'd have to get into a time machine and get 'em back to the sixteenth century.... It just doesn't happen anymore, Ms. MacNeil.... Since we learned about mental illness, paranoia, schizophrenia...all those things they taught me at Harvard." Through his studies of psychiatry, Karras had rationalized away his faith.
The intense demonic possession of Regan, for all its grotesqueness, is merely a sideshow to the real meaning of the film--the reason for Regan's possession. Friedkin and author William Peter Blatty's disagreements on how the theological message of the film should be presented dated back to their earliest meetings. Blatty, in a recent interview, noted that he didn't intend to write a horror novel. Instead, he meant his book to be "an 'apostolic' work, one that would either strengthen one's faith or lead one to it." A scene that was excised from the original film illustrates the disagreements between director and writer. It's a dialogue between Father Merrin, the elder exorcist, and Karras that occurs outside Regan's bedroom, where she is tied to the bed, fully possessed:
Karras: Father, what's going on in there? What is it? If that's the Devil, why this little girl? It makes no sense.
Merrin: I think the point is to make us despair, Damien--to see ourselves as animal, and ugly--to reject the possibility that God could ever love us.
Both Max Von Sydow (who played Merrin) and Blatty argued to keep this scene, but Friedkin cut it. Fortunately, in the re-release, the scene has been restored. The importance of this scene is that it affords a clear rationale for the possession and sets the tone for the film's finale where Karras' faith is reborn in an act of self-sacrifice.
The Exorcist confronted the critical questions of its time: Is God merely the delusion of a handful of prophets and gurus? Is Satan merely personified evil? As the film engaged audiences, the entire country seemed to be debating these questions. In a sense, with the triumph of the spirit, The Exorcist signaled the end of the death-of-God movement.
The heart of The Exorcist is, thus, its optimistic message--that people can transcend this world and reach a spiritual level dominated by good. Evil doesn't always have to win in the end.
A defining moment came in 1966 when John Lennon, as the Beatles were at the height of their popularity, made his famous statement: "Christianity will go. It will vanish and shrink." The importance of this statement cannot be underestimated, for it challenged the basic fabric of Western society. The gauntlet had been thrown down by the biggest pop icons of the age, and within a year they were bigger than ever.
The intellectuals had already decided that the older views had to go. Time magazine reflected this quite aptly on April 10, 1966 with its sepulchral cover of red-on-black, which asked, "Is God Dead?" Time's cover appeared as the death-of-God movement was peaking.
This same Time cover makes an auspicious appearance in the 1968 film Rosemary's Baby, where a young mother gives birth to Satan's son. The film ends with the Satanists proclaiming: "Hail Satan. His power is stronger and stronger. God is dead."
By 1968, social, racial and generational conflicts were rampant. Cities were burning, as race riots broke out. The Vietnam War was raging. The Summer of Love the year before didn't bring more love. Instead, the spirit of liberation crashed against uncertain realities, producing increased drug use, crime and further cultural schisms. Thus, the affirmations of peace and love quickly faded into cynicism. By the summer of 1968, Martin Luther King, Jr. and Bobby Kennedy had both been assassinated.
Then in the summer of 1969, the Woodstock Music Festival seemed to revive the hope for peace and love. Shortly before the festival, however, Charles Manson's hippie commune had committed grisly murders in Los Angeles. And by the end of 1969, it seemed that there was nothing to believe in. The radicals and the hippies faded into the secularism and materialism of the 1970s, as yuppie-ism became the vogue. But then director William Friedkin's The Exorcist hit screens around the country.
The Exorcist, of course, revolves around Regan, a twelve-year-old girl who, it appears, is possessed by the devil. The scenes of her writhing body and vomit spitting had people in theaters going into convulsions and restating their church vows.
But the real essence of The Exorcist lies in two directions. First, the idea of dehumanizing science pitted against ancient religion is a recurring theme of the film. As Regan is examined by physicians, a barrage of gothic instruments records the tests. She whimpers as the needles pierce her flesh and the machinery of medicine hungrily sucks up her blood. In fact, it was the arteriogram scene that caused vomiting and illness in the audiences that saw the original release. And when the panel of doctors, after all their tests, recommends exorcism for Regan, we see that science is, at times, totally inadequate in the face of ancient religious forces.
The real story of The Exorcist, however, is that of Damien Karras. A priest who has lost his faith, Karras is an archetype, a symbol for a country that had by the late sixties lost its faith. When Chris MacNeil, Regan's mother, first asks Karras for help with an exorcism, he responds: "Well, the first thing, I'd have to get into a time machine and get 'em back to the sixteenth century.... It just doesn't happen anymore, Ms. MacNeil.... Since we learned about mental illness, paranoia, schizophrenia...all those things they taught me at Harvard." Through his studies of psychiatry, Karras had rationalized away his faith.
The intense demonic possession of Regan, for all its grotesqueness, is merely a sideshow to the real meaning of the film--the reason for Regan's possession. Friedkin and author William Peter Blatty's disagreements on how the theological message of the film should be presented dated back to their earliest meetings. Blatty, in a recent interview, noted that he didn't intend to write a horror novel. Instead, he meant his book to be "an 'apostolic' work, one that would either strengthen one's faith or lead one to it." A scene that was excised from the original film illustrates the disagreements between director and writer. It's a dialogue between Father Merrin, the elder exorcist, and Karras that occurs outside Regan's bedroom, where she is tied to the bed, fully possessed:
Karras: Father, what's going on in there? What is it? If that's the Devil, why this little girl? It makes no sense.
Merrin: I think the point is to make us despair, Damien--to see ourselves as animal, and ugly--to reject the possibility that God could ever love us.
Both Max Von Sydow (who played Merrin) and Blatty argued to keep this scene, but Friedkin cut it. Fortunately, in the re-release, the scene has been restored. The importance of this scene is that it affords a clear rationale for the possession and sets the tone for the film's finale where Karras' faith is reborn in an act of self-sacrifice.
The Exorcist confronted the critical questions of its time: Is God merely the delusion of a handful of prophets and gurus? Is Satan merely personified evil? As the film engaged audiences, the entire country seemed to be debating these questions. In a sense, with the triumph of the spirit, The Exorcist signaled the end of the death-of-God movement.
The heart of The Exorcist is, thus, its optimistic message--that people can transcend this world and reach a spiritual level dominated by good. Evil doesn't always have to win in the end.
ABOUT JOHN W. WHITEHEAD
Constitutional attorney and author John W. Whitehead is founder and president of The Rutherford Institute. His most recent books are the best-selling Battlefield America: The War on the American People, the award-winning A Government of Wolves: The Emerging American Police State, and a debut dystopian fiction novel, The Erik Blair Diaries. Whitehead can be contacted at staff@rutherford.org. Nisha Whitehead is the Executive Director of The Rutherford Institute. Information about The Rutherford Institute is available at www.rutherford.org.
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