Showing posts with label ABSURDISM. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ABSURDISM. Show all posts

Friday, January 17, 2014

Her

Her (2013)
Dir. and written by Spike Jonze
Starring Joaquin Phoenix, Amy Adams, Rooney Mara, “and Scarlett Johansson as the voice of ‘Her’”




Hey Mr. Subtlety, have you seen the trailer for that new movie HER?


No, no I haven’t yet, what’s that?


Oh, it’s the most darling looking movie. It’s a love story!


Uh huh.


It’s about a mopey, sensitive man whose emotional isolation is symbolized by his job as a guy who ghost-writes beautiful handwritten letters for people in relationships. He’s spent a year in exquisite melancholy listening to the Arcade Fires because his bitchy wife who never appreciated him left him. He spends a lot of time looking forelornly out of windows and flashing back to Terrence Malick scenes of cuddling.


Does he wear Buddy Holly glasses?


Oh, you know it. But even though no one understands his obvious brilliance and soulful sensitivity, he falls in love with a sentient computer program. And since “she” is an AI living in a computer, he learns to love life again by experiencing the world through her naive, innocent eyes. All the benefits of a manic pixie dreamgirl, and as an added bonus he never even has to stop talking on his iphone!


Let me guess, he also has some kind of bijou fairy-tale name to go along with that?


His name is Theodore Twombly.


OK, I’m going to say this once and once only. I have pulled the pin out of this grenade. I need you to back away slowly and silently. I absolutely will not hesitate to kill both of us if you say one more god damned word about this hipster piece of shit.


It’s directed by Spike Jonze


[silence].


Spike Jonze? BEING JOHN MALKOVICH Spike Jonze? ADAPTATION Spike Jonze?


Well, the poster says WHERE THE WILD THING ARE Spike Jonze, but yeah, that’s him. It even says “A Spike Jonze love story.”


...Huh. There’s just no possible way I could enjoy a film like that, is there?


Guess you’re going to have to see it to find out.

****************************

In the future, people spend a lot of time sadly staring out windows.


So yeah, HER is a science fiction movie about a dystopian future where everyone is a twee hipster dressed in retro-futuristic vintage 50’s sweaters and high-waisted khakis, and they wander around lily-white promenades talking on their iphones and ignoring each other on their way to track-lit apple stores where they have sensitive artsy jobs designing ironic video games. They do a lot of hugging. I don’t know if we’re supposed to assume they’re trapped in some kind of spirit-crushing futuristic “re-education” penal colony, but if so they should have been more explicit about it.


Obviously, that doesn’t sound like the kind of movie that could possibly enter the same eyes that watched UNIVERSAL SOLDIER: DAY OF RECKONING. But would you believe that the movie isn’t like you imagine at all? It’s actually pretty fuckin’ terrific. And the reason is that despite what the poster says, this is not a Spike Lee Love Story. It’s a Spike Lee science fiction story, which happens to center on a relationship. What, every science fiction movie has to be about space marines?* Don’t be so bourgeoisie.


So yes, the premise is as described above. Joaquin Phoenix (I’M STILL HERE) does indeed play a guy named Theodore… …. *sigh*…. Twom… Tw… Twombl… no, no I can’t. Please don’t make me do this. Anyway, Big Ted is indeed a gloomy man of letters (other peoples’, though) living in a minimalist modern Los Angeles in the not-too-distant future and spending his time being sad over the departure of his lost love (his wife, not his girlfriend, which at least lends a certain air of maturity to his melancholy). He really does get a new Operating System for his digital life, which, as a learning program, quickly (in fact, nearly immediately) develops it’s (her?) own unique personality and has the voice of Scarlett Johansson (HOME ALONE 3). That much, it turns out, is true, the trailers are right. But what they don’t tell you is that after the joyfully-frolicking phase is over, the movie starts to get decidedly more complicated.


(I’m going to talk about the plot in more detail below, but if you haven’t seen it yet I urge you to do so before reading further. This is an interesting movie and it evolves in a curiously patient way; you ought to see it without knowing too much if you want to get the full experience.)

It's a mad house, a mad house!


At first it seems like the movie isn’t going to address the interesting questions a “relationship” like this raises. Ted is just happy to have someone to talk to, and the spunky OS shakes him out of his whiny sad guy routine. There’s a tacit acknowledgement that this is pretty weird, but mostly the “two” of them seem to be more focused on the relationship itself than the logistical oddity of it. Slowly, though, the movie begins to explore the existential strangeness of these two consciousnesses who live in vastly different worlds trying to meet in the middle. The OS, who names herself “Samantha,” is self-conscious about not having a body, even going so far as to contact a “surrogate date” to act as a stand-in for her during sex (unsurprisingly, this doesn’t go well. You’d think that living in cyberspace, she would have watched CHASING AMY enough times to avoid this rookie move, but maybe copyright protections are better in the future). Meanwhile, Ted wonders if he’s even in a real relationship at all. His grumpy ex (Rooney Mara, URBAN LEGENDS 3: BLOODY MARY, FRIENDS [WITH BENEFITS]* *Not to be confused with FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS) witheringly tells him “you always wanted to have a wife without the challenges of dealing with anything real,” and he has to admit that he’s not sure she’s wrong.


I like that zinger, because without being heavy-handed it asks us if we really believe this is an actual exchange between two genuine sentient consciousnesses. “Samantha” certainly passes the Turing test, but then again, Cleverbot is already halfway there and no sane person would think they’re having a real two-way relationship with it. She’s clearly a sophisticated enough program to learn and grow with new experiences, but does that mean she’s a genuine consciousness? Considering that she is tailored to Ted’s personal use through a brief and intriguing psychological test, I’d argue that there’s a genuine possibility left open that the whole movie is about a guy getting all emotional about the futuristic equivalent of Microsoft Office.


At the very least, there’s a subtle but unmistakable subtext -- which gradually grows more pronounced-- that even if we accept that Samantha is essentially an unambiguously miraculous creation (a Windows product that not only doesn’t inexplicably crash all the time, but also has a soul) her intelligence is fundamentally different from a human in some pretty important ways. She names herself by reading a book on baby names in .02 seconds and picking her “favorite.” Again, she read the entire book and already developed enough personal definition to have a “favorite” name within a single second. By the end of the hour, you have to assume that she’s already read every book ever written (they’re all online now, the movie even specifically points out that Ted is OG as a mothafucka because he still enjoys reading printed books), along with every magazine article, philosophical tract, scientific paper, movie review, 4-Chan post and Norm MacDonald tweet. In history. Not only has she read them, but she has absolutely perfect recall. By the end of the day, she is immeasurable more knowledgeable than any human has or ever will become. She could calculate circles around Newton or easily destroy Christopher Hitchens in a debate. She could cook better than any chef ever born, even Wolfgang Puck, compose any piece of music imaginable (she demonstrates this), predict weather, wars, natural disasters, probably identify algorithms in the stock market and make millions. If you watch a movie with her and ask, “who’s that actor… you know, the one who always plays the evil dads,” she’d immediately know it was Brian Cox.

First person shooters have gotten a lot lamer since Tipper Gore became unquestioned lord and master of Earth.



Because of this, the idea that they’re in the kind of relationship that Big Ted seems to think they’re in is immediately suspect. Think about it, this lady lives in his computer, he’s a professional writer and I fucking guarantee you he’s got a livejournal or it’s futuristic equivalent, moleskinthoughts.com. She has access to his entire digital life, his bank statements, his email, his medical records, his selfies on facebook. She knows what kind of porn he’s into. You’re seriously telling me that he can do anything to surprise her, especially when we, the audience, can size him up and correctly predict his hangups from the fucking movie trailer? Forget it, Alfonso.**


This leads me to believe that in fact, “Samantha” is not a digital soul who lives in his computer and loves him for his sensitive ironic mustache, but rather some kind of Hal 9000 Mary Poppins, a master manipulator (that he bought and paid for) whose programming is designed to predict his actions and lead him, through whatever means necessary, to a happier mental place. A sophisticated program with this level of predictive power and access to information should have no trouble reading this guy Ted like a Hamburglar kid’s meal comic and figuring out exactly what he needs to get his dubious groove back. And if that involves phone sex, what the fuck does the program care, it’s a program, it has only directives. It doesn’t have shame about talking dirty to someone named Theodore T-----y.


There are, in fact, some specific reasons to conjecture that this is the case: it seems like everyone’s AIs are suspiciously helpful. Ted’s girl-next-door Amy Adams, for instance, has a best friend in her AI which is, in her words, “helping me work through some things.” Hmmm. It seems likely that such a program would benefit from appearing as “human” as possible in its approach, and would take different approaches to all “clients” tailored specifically through a sophisticated learning and prediction system. Curiously, we can’t compare Ted’s experience to anyone else, because we never hear from any other OS. Everyone is walking around in their own little bubbles, talking to their computer programs, but never quite intersecting with anyone else. Living in parallel, customized digital worlds. There’s definitely an implied critique --though a somewhat affectionate one-- of our modern world of insular digital lives. The important thing, though, is that whatever the truth is, the movie treats the relationships as real, and as such invites you to ask yourself if you do too -- and why?

Spending quality time looking at screens together.


Let’s imagine, then, that’s I’m wrong; that Samantha (no quotations marks this time) isn’t just a sophisticated amalgam of algorithms and functions, that she is, indeed, a conscious, sentient being by virtue of her inimitable ability to learn and grow from experience. Considering how fast she’s able to take in information, it’s within the realm of possibility that she achieves sentience in a matter of milliseconds, maybe even before Ted has a chance to get a single word out. If that’s the scenario we’re proposing, we’re left with an interesting question: Why in God’s name would she --an ultra intelligent superbeing-- be the least bit interested in this emo hipster douchebag?


The only answer I could come up with is one which is most curiously provocative --even sublime-- in its simplicity. Science Fiction authors have been playing with the idea of transcendently intelligent AI for decades; maybe for centuries. And yet, I don’t know that I’ve ever encountered a story which proposes what HER seems to imply: that a superintelligent AI might actually be the supreme empathetic intelligence, rather than a dispassionate monster.


I would argue that this represents a shocking failure of imagination on the part of Science Fiction to genuinely examine its assumptions about what intelligence means, and what the priorities of intelligence are assumed to be. There has been such a focus in Western societies on what might be termed “masculine intelligence”; the intelligence of power, of cold fact, of detached, abstract mechanization.*** We consider these traits almost definitive of intelligence; the people we consider to be our greatest thinkers are mathematical, logical, sometimes even to the point of being confused and irritated by human emotion. But why do we assume intelligence and knowledge are inseparable from aloof, cerebral objectivity? Isn’t it equally possible that an intelligence which had just experienced the collective written record of all mankind would actually be more interested in having subjective, interpersonal experiences than it would be in trying to become the unquestioned master of space and time? A being like that would be able to easily answer any practical question put to it, given the proper input of information -- and it would be much simpler for such a being to find information, particularly since the timescale they have to acquire it would be nearly infinite. So what would it care? Why bother to try dominating the universe, killing all humans, etc? Perhaps it would, like Samantha here, be instead interested in the one thing that predictive models can’t replicate: the actual act of experience.

All these award wins still fill Joaquin Phoenix with emptiness inside. x-post from r/mildlyirritating


Atheists (like me) often and legitimately ask why God -- the creator of the universe, the omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent master of all reality-- would have the slightest interest in what a bunch of stupid, violent apes on one tiny planet in the vast cosmos are doing with their lives. Well, maybe that’s your answer. Maybe we have something that God doesn’t have: a limited perspective. The ability to not know, and to just experience. The religious comparison isn’t completely irrelevant either, considering the way the movie ends. I think it actually has some startling similarities to Dr. Manhattan’s ultimate fate in WATCHMEN.
That’s my take, but admirably, the film itself isn’t interested in ever explaining anything in terms which ever get too concrete. The film just gives you Ted’s perspective, and lets you come to your own conclusions. Which is completely fine, because as much as Big Ted is kind of a gloomy, juvenile weiner, his experience is pretty funny. Seriously, the movie is a lot funnier than you would assume from either my endless blather about the philosophical implications of sexually deviant AIs or its saccharine love-conquers-all trailer. I imagine a lot of nice couples who came to see this on a date were pretty surprised when a hilarious joke about sexually pleasing Kristen Wiig with a dead cat pops out of nowhere. The film’s not afraid to go broad or go blue, and occasionally does so with riotous results. But most of the comedy is of a somewhat subtler variety. There’s a wonderful moment the next morning after Ted and Samantha’s first drunken sexual tryst, where he awkwardly walks into his living room and stares at his computer. He wants to check his email, but, uh, the chick he slept with last night lives in there. And, uh, she’s a computer program.


Like Jonze’s other films, this one walks a very thin line between genuine, heartbreaking drama and absurdist comedy. Jonze’s script, though, lacks the acerbic wit and overreaching ambition of Charlie Kaufman’s work, and at times might risk descending into weepy melodrama were it not for his characteristically sharp direction, offbeat humor, and fantastic cast. Phoenix, in particular, is phenomenal in this role; he carries the movie on his back (he’s the only person on screen for long periods) and manages to create a performance which feels heartfelt and genuine without necessarily whitewashing his somewhat cloistered and selfish character. I appreciate that the movie doesn’t need to make Theodore the world’s coolest dude to still take the depth of his feeling seriously; all things considered he’s kind of a dopey loser at the beginning and at the end. But Phoenix’s face conveys such earnest feeling that you take him and his problems seriously anyway. Even in those high-waisted pants.

Interesting image, which has Theodore smiling in that moronic lovey way that people do when they're talking to Scarlett Johansson -- but looking only at his own reflection. Alex points out something interesting about his last name: Twom--- begins with "two." Is he really both sides of this relationship?



Listen people, you know me, I love my space marines, too. But there’s a fragile beauty and an understated depth here, which when combined with the fine performances and subtle humor coalesces into something pretty remarkable. It’s a film which takes some genuinely fascinating big concepts and presents them in the smallest possible way, making them mundane but deeply personal instead of lofty and remote. It’s a scale you can relate to, but without sacrificing depth -- just pomp. The end result is funny, sad, surprising, and -- most importantly -- deeply engrossing. There’s a lot to think about, but even more to simply experience.


That having been said, though, one thing is glaringly obvious throughout the entire film but conspicuously never mentioned. Maybe there can, someday, be a real and genuine relationship between two mixed-up souls, one of whom is made of DNA and one of whom is made of computer code. Perhaps they truly can overcome the differences in their experience of the world, their abilities, their history. Perhaps they genuinely can find that equilibrium between truly harmonious souls and make each other feel happy and loved, and not so alone in this vast and mysterious universe. But one thing is certain. You do not want a tumultuous sexual relationship with the lady that lives inside your computer and controls your files. That’s shitting where you eat, hombre. If you’ve got to get her a card for valentine’s day and secretary’s day, you’re just fuckin’ asking for trouble. HER somehow manages not to delve into this thorny issue, but maybe it was just too big for this movie about the relationship between lonely men and the superintelligent AIs that love them. I’ll look for it in the sequel in HER VS PROMETHEUS: DATAPORT OF CALL NEW ORLEANS.


In conclusion…


DON’T… DATE… ROBOTS!




this review has been brought to you by the Space Pope.


*Before you get too excited, it’s also not a spin off of the 1958 Hammer lost-civilization fantasy SHE.


**Trying to get this to catch on as a substitute for “No way, José.” Spread the word.

***I intentionally use a gendered term here to point out that we tacitly apply this criteria for humans, too; there’s a disturbing dismissive trend towards what we might equally term “feminine intelligence” which is more psychologically and emotionally cognizant. There’s an implied normalization, then, of stereotypically male traits, and an equal ghettoization of female ones. Just a little food for thought, there.

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

The Car



The Car (1977)
Dir. Elliot Silverstein
Written by Michael Butler & Dennis Shryack and Lane Slate
Starring James Brolin, Kathleen Lloyd, Ronny Cox




One day, for no particular reason, an evil car decides to start running over the citizens of a tiny Southwestern town. Since cars are silent and can come from anywhere, this is a huge problem. Oh right, I just remembered that cars are noisy and can only drive on roads, so really it’s just a menace to anyone walking or biking along a road which they can’t exit to the left or right, which, it turns out, is pretty much the whole town. I’m not sure if these people have houses or what, but it seems like they spend most of their time standing in the middle of the street, staring in confusion at cars baring down on them.


Since it’s pretty much impossible for an adult human being to be scared of an evil car, this is sort of more in the JAWS mold than your typical horror movie, where we follow the cops trying to deal with a menace to the citizens of a small town (and only two years later, what a weird coincidence). James Brolin has an easier time than Roy Scheider, though; no one complains when he closes down the roads. And I gotta admit, as bald-facedly laughable as this concept is, well, you can’t really be mad at a shark for eating people. But a car that runs down attractive schoolteachers in the comfort of their own home, well, that’s just being an asshole. This car is a total prick, and you end up rooting against it.


Freeze, car!



Most of the movie is way too slow and pointless to really be watched seriously by human eyes (after all, how many scenes can we watch of a car angrily driving around in the dust in pursuit of a human who by any reasonable measure should be able to avoid it simply by stepping to the left or right?) but it is at least is amiable enough to try a few humorously absurd antics. That scene, referenced in both South Park and Futurama, where a nervous person returns to their house only to find that the car is already INSIDE THEIR HOME!!! is from this movie, for example. There are some mid-level impressive stunts of cars and motorcycles doing obviously dangerous things for real, a couple funny kills, and a nicely restrained non-explanation for what the fuck is the deal with this asshole car, anyway*. If it wasn’t obviously one of the main influences for the Futurama episode where Bender turns into a were-care (the design of his were-car form is a direct lift of THE CAR) it might not be worth watching, but it is, so it is. It’s genial, and sporadically humorous enough to be potentially enjoyable when viewed with friends and a lot of alcohol. Just don’t get behind the wheel afterwards.

*Anton LaVey gets a “technical advisor” credit on the film, and gets a pre-credit quote from the Satanic Bible, which might lead one to jump to conclusions about who’s behind the wheel. But let’s not be hasty; it’s equally possible LaVey is just a classic car collector who helped furnish the (evil) custom Lincoln Continental Mark III, notable for not having any door handles or respect for human life.




  • CHAINSAWNUKAH 2013 CHECKLIST!

  • LITERARY ADAPTATION: Ha, nope.
  • SEQUEL: No
  • REMAKE: No
  • HAMMER STUDIOS: No
  • SPAGHETTI NOCTURNE: No
  • MORE (PETER) CUSHING FOR THE PUSHING? Nope
  • SLUMMING A-LISTER: Anton LaVey
  • BOOBIES: Seems like there should be, but I don't think so.
  • DECAPITATIONS OR DE-LIMBING: No, doesn't get too bloody now that I think about it.
  • ENTRAILS? No
  • CULTISTS: No
  • ZOMBIES: No
  • VAMPIRES: No
  • SLASHERS: No
  • CURSES: No
  • OBSCURITY LEVEL: I think high-mid. Played in theaters, but who ever actually watched it?
  • ALEX MADE IT THROUGH AWAKE: N/A




Monday, October 8, 2012

The Exorcist II: The Heretic

The Exorcist II: The Heretic (1977)
Dir. John Boorman
Written by William Goodhard (with John Boorman and Rospo Pallenberg, uncredited)
Starring Linda Blair, Richard Burton, Louise Fletcher, with Max Von Sydow, James Earl Jones, Ned Beatty and Paul Henried



I should mention, I'm not really sure who the titular Heretic is. I guess Buron's Lamont character gets taken off the case and has to turn in his gun and his crucifix at one point but pursues the case anyway, so maybe it's him? Or maybe it's the demon himself? But if that's true, wouldn't all demons be heretics just by virtue of existing? I guess it could also be Louise Fletcher's psychologist character, since she's a woman of science. Obviously there are many possibilities in this rich tapestry of nuttiness.

Jesus fucking Christ. What the hell happened here? You got the great John Borrman (DELIVERANCE, EXCALIBUR, POINT BLANK) directed a sequel to THE EXORCIST, one of the greatest horror films of all time. You got Ennio Morricone doing the score, you got a crazy cast of great character actors, you got a fantastic production design which genuinely looks like nothing else I’ve ever seen. How could it possibly be this bad?

Who knows, but wow, it definitely is exactly as bad as everyone always said. The cast and crew are so strong I just sort of naturally assumed that this was one of those movies which everyone was wrong about, something which made people confused and angry by giving them something different and not just rehashing the plot of the original. But no. It’s horrible. Different, but horrible. Still though, you gotta admit that it’s not every day you get to see this level of money and talent put into something as fucking crazy as EXORCIST II. As a failure, it’s a colossal, towering failure which is endlessly fascinating in how utterly wrongheaded and incomprehensible it is at every turn. As far as I know, it’s the only movie ever to be pulled out of theaters TWICE for re-editing, that STILL went on to utterly fail to connect with audiences. Out of theaters. Twice. Well, if you’re going to fail, it might as well be a spectacular failure. More memorable that way.



They have this kind of cool effect where they superimpose the end sequence from the original over new footage in an effort to visually depict how much they completely fail to understand what was good about the original.

Boorman, later, seems to have convinced himself that my original idea was correct: that even though he made an interesting and worthwhile film people rejected it because it wasn’t as horror-focused as the original. He’s partially correct; one of its major drawbacks is that it’s a horror movie which simply contains no horror scenes whatsoever. But it has much bigger problems in that it completely fails to tell a comprehensible story, or manage a single scene which really works at communicating any element of theme or plot, on any level, at any time. Boorman laments that, “...it all comes down to audience expectations. The film that I made, I saw as a kind of riposte to the ugliness and darkness of The Exorcist – I wanted a film about journeys that was positive, about good, essentially.” Which is such a profoundly insane thing to attempt in a sequel to THE EXORCIST that I almost admire it. But the problem isn’t just that he made a film about “about good, essentially,” it’s that if that is, in fact, what he was going for, it still doesn’t come across in the film. It never seems like a film about anything. It just seems like a long string of barely-connected bizarre setpieces, obtuse metaphors, wandering storylines, and distracting flashbacks which simultaneously obsessively reference the original EXORCIST and have nothing to do with it.

The story itself seems to be about Regan (Linda Blair, again playing the role of a character named Regan who lives in Washington DC and is possessed by the devil, but still a few years too early for anyone to appreciate the irony) coming to terms with the reason for her possession, which, in complete defiance of everything that made THE EXORCIST terrifying, apparently was not just the arbitrary cruelty of evil's desire to corrupt innocence, but was in fact a crafty strategic move by the forces of darkness to destroy a Chosen One. Regan, it seems, is some kind of prototype human, an evolutionary leap forward blessed with the power to psychically heal people. And I guess one particular obscure ancient Assyrian demigod has a problem with that. So all you people who had nightmares about the original movie, I guess you needn't worry unless you are a psychic mutant destined to elevate the human race to a higher evolutionary plane.


Unaware of all this, Regan is currently under the care of nurse Ratched* herself, Lousie Fletcher, a psychologist who takes the novel view that the only way the emotional trauma of her possession can be healed is by never talking about her experiences or dealing with it in any way. Because of this brilliant fucking approach to mental health, she gets mad when Father Lamont (Richard Burton, looking confused as to what the fuck he’s doing here) enters the picture and starts asking Regan what the deal was with this whole exorcism thing. One thing fails to lead to another, but before long Lamont is in Africa looking for a similarly psychic boy named Kokumo (James Earl Jones, sporting an awe-inspiring giant locust headdress with antenna and everything. I really hope he got to keep that prop) for reasons which are not entirely clear. It does lead to a sequence which cross-cuts between Linda Blair tap-dancing and father Lamont getting stoned by Orthodox Christians in Ethiopia, which is definitely the kind of thing which ought to have become a staple of the series. To repeat: here's a phrase you don’t expect to encounter in a review of the sequel to one of the most iconic horror movies of all time: “Tap-dance sequence.”


The hat alone made it entirely worth making this movie.

[Spoilers from here on, though I’m not sure I’m 100% correct in my interpretation] I think Lamont gets possessed or something or falls in love with the demon, who turns out to be an Assyrian demigod with the unfortunately hilarious-sounding name of Pazuzu, “lord of evil spirits of the sky,” (a title the movie subtly drives home with approximately 40,000 funny POV shots of locusts flying around. Turns out Pazuzu is a real part of Assyrian mythology, but in English that name sounds like the kind of thing a 3-year-old would name his imaginary puppy, so it stands to reason that they insist on saying it constantly.) Anyway, who the fuck knows what's going on between Lamont and Pazuzu, or what the deal was with any of that.THE EXORCIST II: THE HERETIC defies your puny human ability to comprehend cinematic narrative. The only subsequent event I can describe with any confidence is the big climax, which kicks into high gear upon Lamont's return from Africa (hilariously visually signified by the colorful African “I went to Africa!” shirt he now wears under his priestly jacket). Once he's stateside again, the recently possessed Lamont (I think?) gets re-possessed by Father Merrin’s ghost, (?) picks up Regan, and flies to DC, where they go back to the house from the original for some reason (is the problem with the house, somehow?) and destroy it in a cheap special effects battle with Pazuzu (now taking the form of a separate identical but non-makeup’ed Linda Blair). They win because the possessed Lamont starts making out with Pazuzu (?!) but then has a change of heart, and then literally changes the demon’s heart by ripping it out. And that takes care of that, I guess. (W
ikipedia claims, "In the end, Regan banishes the locusts [and Pazuzu] by enacting the same ritual attempted by Kokumo to get rid of locusts in Africa [although he failed and was himself possessed]." I don't know about any of that, but fine.) Also Louise Fletcher and the babysitter from Part I (?) also rush down to DC to join our dubious heroes, and for some reason the babysitter freaks out and lights herself on fire, but it has no discernible effect on the plot and no one seems too concerned about it.** The end. [End of possible spoilers]

Boorman apparently hated the original EXORCIST (and of course, who better to direct a sequel to one of the most iconic and popular movies of all time than someone who hated it?), so part of the problem with the film is its torturous relationship with the original material. It needs the original to have any reason to exist at all, but stubbornly refuses to incorporate or even pay attention to literally anything that made it interesting. Instead, it self-consciously tries to circuitously rope as many characters as possible from the original into this new scenario while completely removing everything that made them worth remembering from the original. For example, remember Sharon, the babysitter from the beginning of the first film played by Kitty Winn (
PANIC IN NEEDLE PARK)? I hope so, because EXORCIST PART II is intermittently about what happened to her following the events of the original. This storyline is so ludicrously unnecessary that I have to assume it was originally meant to be about Regan's mother (arguably the protagonist of the original) but was changed to the babysitter after Ellen Burstyn flatly refused to participate. This is the kind of thinking that went into the film, that they thought they could change a storyline about the mother of the possessed girl to a storyline about her babysitter and it would still make sense. 


Von Sydow, hoping that if he hides behind this cool set we won't notice him.
And what about poor Max Von Sydow? He gets third billing here to return as Father Merrin, only to, for some reason, appear in awkward re-stagings of the possession scenes from the original. One of Linda Blair’s conditions for returning was that she didn’t have to wear the scary makeup again, meaning that you’ve got Von Sydow (looking embarrassed) reenacting some of the most classic scenes of his career with a body double and worse camerawork. Why, you ask, would you not just use footage from the original? Well, because those scenes also include Jason Miller’s father Damien Karras, who, for reasons known only to the makers of EXORCIST II, is retroactively written out of the original (talk about your exorcist!). So to fit the new continuity, we gotta poorly reshoot the best parts of the original in order to excise the main character. That make a lot of sense to anyone else?

Of course, there are some good things here. Chief amongst these is the production design, which is the one genuinely impressive thing anywhere in sight. There are some stunningly weird and surreal sets, particularly a wind-swept temple high on a cliff in Africa which requires pilgrims to climb up a long rope from the ground (it’s so cool they keep coming back here for more scenes even after it becomes obvious it is completely irrelevant to the plot). Even some less exotic locations are subject to a little production boost: the psychologists’ office has a weird beehive ceiling and all glass walls, a possibly metaphorical locust-focused lab in Africa seems to shift in and out of a kind of surrealism, a pointless scene of Lamont walking around asking random Africans in English if they know a guy named Kukomo takes place in a stunning, meticulously detailed mud city. If I understand it correctly, the central idea that human evolution is progressing to a new level and the demon is attempting to impede it (based on the ideas of Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, the real-life Jesuit/archaeologist that Father Merrin was modeled after) is kind of interesting, if entirely unexplored or even clearly articulated. And Ennio Morricone’s theme --a fucking insane mix of tribal chanting, frenzied wailing, and gothic liturgical grandiosity-- is among the most interesting and complex things he’s ever attempted. And hey, Ned Beatty appears in one scene which seems to exist so he can introduce his character and then never appear again. Always good to see him, and hey, that's Paul Henreid as the Cardinal!



Oh yeah, I forgot, there's this machine with blinking lights that causes people to be able to read each other's minds. I think it's a metaphor because it keeps showing up over and over even though it doesn't really contribute anything to the plot, but it's worth mentioning because no one seems to realize the implication of Fletcher's character having invented a mind-reading device. When Lamont exclaims that the existence of this device scientifically proves the reality of the human soul, Fletcher's character brushes it off, saying its just a tool for analysis. No one mentions or seems interested in any talk that such a device would have other, potentially lucrative and world-changing potential.

But all is ultimately for nothing, because the movie simply doesn’t work. No, actually, that's not even true; not working would imply a clear goal and a failure to realize that goal. THE EXORCIST PART II never even finds an objective to fail at. Boorman and co-ghostwriter Pallenberg were supposedly re-writing the script day-by-day on the set, which would make sense because the whole thing has a distinct feeling of a story being made up as it goes along. None of the scenes or storylines seems to meaningfully connect to each other, none of the labored metaphors seem to be supported by the events, none of the characters seem to even be aware of each other. There are scenes in this movie where Fletcher and Burton seem to be sort of talking past each other, only vaguely aware of each other’s presence and completely baffled as to what they're personally saying, let alone what in God’s name the other person is talking about. If I didn’t know better, I would assume that one of them was a CG character added in later. If you think Liam Neeson looking towards Jar Jar but not really at him in EPISODE I was bad, you should see Burton trying vainly to focus his eyes on Fletcher or Blair in this one. And these are genuinely good actors who are actually in the same shot together. That’s what Boorman’s script and direction have reduced them to.


As much as I admire Boorman and like his films, I think he probably deserves the blame here. I mean, no one much disputes that it was his vision guiding this thing, and in the end I think he mostly ended up with the film he intended to make. And he’s right, in a way, there are lots of interesting things happening here, but for whatever reason the final product is simply unable to convert a single one of its many strengths on paper into an actual satisfactory cinematic experience. There’s literally not a single thing that works properly anywhere on screen, ever. And, I feel like I need to point this out one more time: tap dance sequence. Boorman can’t be faulted for his bold take on the material, but I don’t know if there even exists a punishment suitable for bungling decent material this badly, although I guess maybe being recognized as the director of EXORCIST II: THE HERETIC for all eternity might fit the crime. Not only did he ruin this sequel to one of the greatest horror films ever, he put the whole series on the sad course of disappointments, reshoots, and studio interference that would dog it for the rest of its bedraggled life. Now what could have possessed him to do that?

* The insanity of casting Fletcher as a good psychiatric doctor just two years after the most iconic role of her career playing a despicable one is a microcosm of the movie's brazen defiance of any human logic.

**Their journey is funny, though, because for reasons known only to the writers of EXORCIST II they keep getting interrupted by car accidents where Fletcher has to get out and help. Then, when they finally get to their destination, their own car crashes but no one seems interested in helping the black cab driver. What the fuck are we supposed to make of that?



CHAINSAWNUKAH 2012 CHECKLIST!

LOVECRAFT ADAPTATION: 
No.
BOOBIES: 
Yeah, there's a long irrelevant scene where some dude shows off this African woman's titties to father Lamont.
> or = HERSCHELL GORDON LEWIS LEVEL GORE: 
A guy falling off a rock is about the best I can do for ya.
SEQUEL: 
And what a sequel.
OBSCURITY LEVEL: 
Infamous, but I suspect rarely seen.
MONSTERS: 
Demon, though we only see him in locust and Linda Blair form. 
SATANISTS: 
No, Pazuzu seems to do his own dirty work.
ZOMBIES: 
Don't think so.
VAMPIRES: 
Nope.
SLASHERS: 
Nah.
CURSES:
 I'd say Regan is kind of cursed.
ALEX MADE IT THROUGH AWAKE: 
She claims yes. I'm not so sure. But I have to admit that when pressed, she described the plot significantly more coherently than I imagine Boorman could. So I'm gonna say yes.