 2-Disc Set - Extended Director's Cut / DigiBook & Original Theatrical Version Controversial and popular from the moment it opened, The Exorcist marks its historic Blu-ray premiere in a 2-Disc Edition featuring Stunning Hi-Def Presentations of the Original 1973 Theatrical Version and the 2000 Extended Director's Cut. The frightening and realistic tale of an innocent girl inhabited by a terrifying entity, her mother's frantic resolve to save her and two priests - one doubt-ridden, the other a rock of faith - joined in battling ultimate evil always leaves viewers breathless. This greatest supernatural thriller of all time astonishes and unsettles like no other movie. Storyline: A visiting actress in Washington, D.C., notices dramatic and dangerous changes in the behavior and physical make-up of her 12-year-old daughter. Meanwhile, a young priest at nearby Georgetown University begins to doubt his faith while dealing with his mother's terminal sickness. And, book-ending the story, a frail, elderly priest recognizes the necessity for a show-down with an old demonic enemy. Written by Andrew Harmon Reviewer's Note: Reviewed by Kenneth Brown on October 5, 2010 -- If the greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist, the greatest trick The Exorcist ever pulled was convincing audiences he just might. Can any film that's risen in its wake say the same? It never ceases to amaze me that some thirty-seven years after its original theatrical release, horror filmmakers are still desperately chasing director William Friedkin and writer William Peter Blatty's legacy, each one failing to deliver a more startling depiction of evil incarnate. Many have tried. To their credit, a small but frightening handful have even brushed greatness. But while these scant few have chipped away at The Exorcist in one regard or another -- be it storytelling, special effects, atmosphere, shock value or any one of the elusive elements that transform a horror film into a horror classic -- it's tough to name a single standout from the last four decades that bests Friedkin and Blatty's macabre masterpiece on every front. Owen Roizman's deceptively simple, utterly haunting cinematography. Steve Boeddeker's unnerving score. The film's unexpected yet flawless casting. Jason Miller's raw but restrained performance. Sweet, little Linda Blair's mangled, unholy face. Ellen Burstyn's unhinged terror. Blatty's searing screenplay. Pazuzu and its ungodly mindgames. Friedkin's sharp eye and steady hand at the helm. Ten Academy Award nominations... make no mistake, The Exorcist may just be a perfect genre storm. It all begins with one of the classiest, creepiest openings to ever launch a horror film. Archaeologist and veteran Catholic priest, Father Lankester Merrin (Max von Sydow), examines a small stone carving in Iraq before locking eyes with a larger statue; a sneering, animalistic totem whose insidious face all but taunts the aging man. Dissonant music ascends to a feverish pitch, ravenous dogs battle to the death and The Exorcist, without much pomp or circumstance, announces its arrival. Elsewhere, in Georgetown, an actress named Chris MacNeil (Ellen Burstyn) grows increasingly concerned as her twelve-year-old daughter Regan (Linda Blair) undergoes a series of strange behavioral changes. Seizures, outbursts and inhuman developments leave the girl's doctors and psychiatrists baffled, unable to provide her mother with a viable physical or psychological diagnosis. When a personal friend, a grown man no less, is found dead outside of their home, Chris seeks advice from a dramatically different source: a nearby church. Its priest, Father Damien Karras (Jason Miller), agrees to visit the MacNeil household and observe Regan. What he finds though -- a disheveled girl tortured by mysterious forces, claiming to be Satan himself -- leaves Karras reeling in doubt. Soon thereafter, the church orders an exorcism, Father Merrin flies in to perform the ritual, Karras struggles to reconcile his beleaguered faith and a showdown of the cinematic ages ensues. But how does one begin to dissect the many, many elements that make The Exorcist everything it is? Why does it continue to resonate all these years later? How, in an age of CG-magic and seamless practical effects, can a horror flick from the early '70s leave such lasting scars? From the birth of Blatty's vicious soul-bender to the culmination of Friedkin's disturbing, stomach-churning vision, it really all comes down to one thing: the film's methodical approach to what might otherwise be a derivative, schlocky tale of good versus evil. Blatty taps into the mundane aspects of everyday life and, like every great horror maestro before and after him, places a small group of flawed but relatable protagonists into truly terrifying circumstances; unspeakable horrors that bend and break anyone and everyone unfortunate enough to be caught in Evil's snare. His story isn't just about a distraught mother and her possessed child; it's about a man struggling with a crisis of faith, a wise sage's willingness to reenter the veritable lion's den and the inexplicable victimization of an innocent. Blatty takes the time to examine Chris's unyielding love and powerless desperation, Karras's dance with his own personal devils and Merrin's exhaustion at the end of a long and eventful career. Each emotion is terribly familiar, each reaction genuine; each development organic, each revelation a shock to the system. All the while, Blatty pits mother, daughter and men of the cloth against an ancient entity so awful, so immoral, so unabashedly obscene that it seems unstoppable. Blatty didn't just create one of cinema's most vile villains, he pitted his bristling beastie against believable human beings. Friedkin, in turn, presents The Exorcist without unnecessary flash or spectacle. Regan's rotating head and projectile vomit may stick in audiences' minds, but the film's gory details are in short supply compared to its study of Miller and Burstyn's authentic reactions to the girl's torment. His camera lingers on their faces far more than it does on Regan's physical torment; his eye is drawn to the quaint conversations and meaningful bonds that connect Blatty's characters to the real world rather than the pulpy nature of the horrors that await them; his actors are given leave to dig as deep as they can and serve up their souls for all to see. The result? Miller, Burstyn, von Sydow and Blair invest every fiber of their being into their performances, making The Exorcist a nuanced multi-character study, a heart-wrenching drama, an intense supernatural thriller and a gruesome, altogether grim horror film. Those who believe in demons and their hellish ilk will find Friedkin's classic to be more paralyzing than they probably care to admit. Even those who scoff at the mere mention of fallen angels will feel the hair on the back of their necks creeping across their skin. Faith isn't required, it's rattled; suspension of disbelief isn't necessary, it's inevitable. Modern filmfans may be yanked out of the experience from time to time -- not every special effect that slithers into view is as petrifying in 2010 as it was to trembling cinephiles in 1973 -- but Friedkin nevertheless proves himself a timeless talent and The Exorcist proves itself a timeless tour de force. High definition enthusiasts who pick up the Blu-ray edition of The Exorcist will be treated to two versions of the film: a 132-minute Extended Director's Cut and Friedkin's 122-minute Original Theatrical Cut (each one presented on its own BD-50 disc). Both are exceptional as far as I'm concerned, but the original still stands as the definitive version in my eyes. The extended cut features a number of notable changes -- some worthwhile, some less inspired -- but the bulk of the additions and extensions are more distracting than anything else. Only one reintegrated scene (involving a conversation between Karras and Merrick outside of Regan's bedroom) elevates the film, and even then, it only shoves an already underlying theme into the spotlight. But I'm sure there are plenty of people who adore Friedkin's more recent cut for equally valid reasons. Regardless of which version of The Exorcist you prefer, Warner's 2-disc Blu-ray release is a godsend. Two versions of the film, two incredible AV presentations and a slew of special features. I have a feeling we won't be seeing many complaints about this one popping up in the forum. Well-deserved hyperbole aside, The Exorcist remains one of the greatest horror films of all time and belongs in any genre aficionado's collection. Warner's 2-disc Blu-ray release is almost as impressive and represents yet another high-quality catalog release from the studio's vaults. It boasts a beautiful restoration, two full cuts of the film, two fiercely faithful video transfers, two strong DTS-HD Master Audio surround tracks and a fairly loaded supplemental package. Even Digibook detractors will find this release enticing. Minor nitpicks notwithstanding, The Exorcist's Blu-ray debut earns one of my heartier recommendations. Cast Notes: Ellen Burstyn (Chris MacNeil), Max von Sydow (Father Merrin), Lee J. Cobb (Lt. Kinderman), Kitty Winn (Sharon), Jack MacGowran (Burke Dennings), Jason Miller (Father Karras), Linda Blair (Regan), William O'Malley (Father Dyer [as Reverend William O'Malley S.J.]), Barton Heyman (Dr. Klein), Peter Masterson (Dr. Barringer - Clinic Director [as Pete Masterson]), Rudolf Schündler (Karl), Gina Petrushka (Willi), Robert Symonds (Dr. Taney), Arthur Storch (Psychiatrist), Thomas Bermingham (Tom - President of University [as Reverend Thomas Bermingham S.J.]). IMDb Rating (02/11/17): 8.0/10 from 294,027 users
 | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
