Masterpiece Memo: The Exorcist

Often I wonder with a kind of disappointed enthusiasm, what it was like to actually be around to see some of cinema’s greatest motion pictures when they first went on general release in theaters. Of all the excellent movies that drift in and out of my abstract nostalgia, not many fill that yearning more than The Exorcist from 1973. I’d like to think, back then, seeing that film for the first time on the big screen I would not have been one of those cinema-goers that actually threw up while watching it. Or fainted. Or even left the theater as it was all too much for them.

I’m pretty certain those reactions would not have befallen me. But alas, we shall never know, I can’t put myself completely in that time, I was not on this good Earth back then. And as much as people reading this who were here then are likely to huff and label me lucky, I beg to differ.

I remember growing up, probably in childhood, teenhood too, maybe even a part of adulthood, when you used to flick through the newspapers to check the cinema listings. An exciting feat in itself, lashing through the big paper pages until you spotted the cinema logo – usually somewhere near the back, but I still flicked from the front. Anyway, choosing a movie to see is always an exciting prospect, no matter your age, but back then when scanning the cinematic menu in the newspaper, I recall seeing a late night showing of The Exorcist for what seemed liked every single weekend. Just this one showing, once a week, at this one cinema.

A film I held in prestige then, a horror film so shocking it was banned in the UK for a while. I mean, that in itself makes it a great temptation, a banned film I was too young to see, from the 1970s, playing locally every week. Whatever age ranges of my life these memories depict, I always knew The Exorcist was indeed a very special film.

The Exorcist, as well as being a phenomenon and decades-long conversation starter, is one of the very, very best horror films ever to grace a screen. Horror, though, is not the film’s only forte. A strong dramatic strand exists through the depiction of a small family (in a huge house). A very intellectual thriller, too, more so in William Peter Blatty‘s novel. Plus, there are strong elements of the reality of dwelling with such horrific circumstances, and, of course, the struggles and strengths of religion, faith, vocation, good, evil, humanity.

The aesthetic and haunting of The Exorcist live long after you watch it too. And not just the first time, on repeat viewings. One of the most remarkable aspects of the film’s magnetism is just how it leaves you afterwards (and indeed during), the provocation and thought-trail, a kind of unlimited reflection of not just placing yourself in the hands of a demon, or coming to terms with the experience of the film, but also the amorous admiration of the vast brilliance of the filmmaking on display. Even looking at it today. I watched The Exorcist for umpteenth time just days ago, and was in complete awe of the motion picture experience all over again.

Perhaps known in his circles more for writing comedy, William Peter Blatty embarked on the novel after he had overheard a case of possession of a young boy. His research was intense (as would be the eventual shoot of the film adaptation), also pulling from his own experiences to some extent – like Father Damien Karras, Blatty had lost his mother recently.

Film director William Friedkin, who would direct The Exorcist, was not a fan of the first screenplay Blatty wrote, though he had read the book, claiming he could not put it down. Friedkin was, of course, looking for the script to match the aggressive vision he had as a filmmaker. Blatty worked his ass off adapting is own book, often 18 hour days, for 9 months or so, but his collaboration with Friedkin would prove a mesmerizing pay-off. Much of the book made the final pages of the screenplay too, some aspects such as Regan MacNeil’s early condition, or her mother Chris’ conflict with the absent father, though present in the film, were explored far more in the book.

When Friedkin finally got the gig to direct, The French Connection was being distributed, and would go on to win Best Picture and Best Director at the Academy Awards. There was some hesitation when hiring the director, names like Stanley Kubrick and Mike Nichols were in the mix but never amounted to anything committal. Friedkin was determined to make this picture, and eventual producer Blatty was also firmly in his corner.

There was, too, plenty of resistance in the casting process. Audrey Hepburn was approached to play Chris MacNeil, the mother, but wanted to shoot in Rome where she was residing at the time. No thanks, said Friedkin. Anne Bancroft was also a contender had she not been pregnant at the time. The delay in casting Ellen Burstyn, who really wanted this part, was basically down to her lack of star power at the time. Some things never change in the film industry.

Friedkin and Blatty stood by their resolute, artistic instincts. The director took a rather unstoppable grip of the production, he was himself a man possessed, pushing many around him to the limits. Burstyn and Linda Blair, who plays Regan, both suffered injuries during the grueling shoot, in which the director, and in instruction to stunt crew, was not afraid to be heavy-handed. Remember the scene when Jason Miller as Karras is startled by the phones ringing? That’s his reaction is to Friedkin firing a gun. You watch the reactions of the performers, so authentic in the way they are thrown to the ground or scared out of their wits. I mean, do you think that is Linda Blair thrashing around on the bed by herself? Of course not.

The opening sequence in Iraq, were locals are actually digging up heads of statues, was an extremely enduring shoot given the heat. Another section of the film that Freidkin restored when others resisted. Incidentally, the shot of Father Merrin (Max von Sydow) arriving at the house was inspired by the director seeing René Magritte’s painting Empire of Light in New York.

To this end, in all aspects of film production, I have always seen The Exorcist as a masterpiece of technical prowess. Even the seemingly simplest of techniques, were bees are used to omit a terrifying buzz, or the twisting of a leather wallet providing the creepy creaks of a head turning. There were no no computer generated effects back then, not like today. No, this was much more a case of excellence in mechanics, artistry, rigging, innovation.

There are not many that are now aware that Regan’s vomit was actually pea soup. Maybe few know that the visible cold breath coming from the actors towards the end of the movie is not special effects as we know it, but rather the results of completely refrigerating Regan’s room – there was a second set of the room built specifically for this purpose.

The impact of such a determined, attention-to-detail kind of film shoot is an astonishing one to the audience members, like me, no matter how many times you have seen it. The Exorcist is a horror movie to define the genre, yes it is scary whatever you say, but also an accomplishment to put cinematic consummation on a pedestal. Look at the scenes before the true horror makes its mark, those disturbing moments of the examinations on Regan, penetratingly real from the actress Blair, the actual surgeon in character, and reactions of others watching – you can almost feel the pain yourself.

A film of contrasts, not just in the transition from the heat of Iraq to the colder Georgetown, or the children in Halloween costumes on the same street as the nuns whose garments drift in the wind, also the contrasting scenes of sound and silence, lingering moments of contemplation or normalcy, then bursts of horror and despair. The Exorcist is full of them, inspirational to many a horror flick afterwards, but hardly a scratch on the craft from 1973. The implications of the smell coming from Regan as the demon surfaces, superbly executed too by the performers – how often are smells so vividly portrayed on the visual medium?

Funnily enough, 13 year-old Linda Blair struggled with the contact lenses she had to wear, as part of her 4 hours in make-up, but spoke the vulgar lines from the script and the cursing, with ease, shocking the adults more. Rumors that Blair then went into mental decline following the production have been silenced. I mean, it was the brilliant body double Eileen Dietz who went through much of the trauma too. Her’s is the face of the demon Pazuzu, which is subliminally (sublimely) used a couple of times, as well as hauntingly imposed through the face of Regan for a split second in the film’s final act.

In the end, though, beyond bloody masturbation, a gyrating bed, a painstaking exorcism, the film’s backlash for being blasphemous, even the Motion Picture of Arts and Sciences unable to find the courage to award The Exorcist more than the 2 Oscars from 10 nominations, the film triumphs, and continues to do so more than 40 years on.

Let’s not forget, too, the film has a true sense of victory, with Karras surely believing once again, that if evil exists, then so must good. When Father Merrin has almost accepted his last act (Pazuzu draws him in from the opening scenes), Karras throws the possessed Regan to the ground, pounding and pleading the demon out of her, and instead of killing the now free young girl, finds the strength to throw himself out of the window down those stone steps, and to his death. An act of will and courage to defy all evil. The Exorcist, with all its technical mastery, enduring appeal, and cinematic legacy to strive for, even now, is a breathtaking victory in the history of film.

 

Masterpiece Memo: The Social Network

To begin with I think The Social Network is a masterpiece. It’s a film that I really love, and ever since I first saw it in January 2011, I always feel like it is an event to watch. There are not many films that I have felt this strongly about. Titanic is a film that for as much as I love, I don’t watch too often because I don’t want to wear it out. Jaws is the opposite where I have now seen it so many times that it no longer matters. But with The Social Network, it feels like it’s something more than just a film to me. It’s like seeing the first moment of something monumental, and seeing what came before it – like the big bang if you will.

When talking about the film, I have to first start with its director, David Fincher. He’s probably my favorite director of all-time. Of his ten feature films, I give seven of them an “A” score. He’s built up a reputation for creating worlds in his films that are often based upon our reality, but feel darker and dare I say dirtier. He likes films about flawed people, who make bad decisions, and sometimes do bad things. Se7en & Zodiac are about serial killers, and Fight Club is about anarchy. The Social Network is about people who are fundamentally good, but again, do bad things. That’s not to say that Mark Zuckerberg is a bad person, but he certainly stepped on many toes on his way to the top. Fincher I think chose this film as he likely saw the potential it had to be a great film because of the characters, and the choices they make. And also, I think, the story, of course largely down to Aaron Sorkin’s amazing script.

Before Sorkin wrote the screenplay, Ben Mezrich wrote the book based on Mark Zuckerberg and the founding of Facebook titled: The Accidental Billionaires: The Founding of Facebook, A Tale of Sex, Money, Genius, and Betrayal. It was published in July 2009, and most of the information came from Facebook “co-founder” Eduardo Saverin, who in the film is played by Andrew Garfield. The screenplay that Sorkin wrote was blazing, he wrote the characters almost like they were in a William Shakespeare play, with a story full of lies, jealousy, and betrayal. I especially love how Sorkin balanced the story between 2003, 2004, and then 2010. It goes back and forth between the past when Facebook was just an idea for Mark, and in the current day when he is being sued by Cameron & Tyler Winklevoss for, in their minds, having stolen their original idea, and by his former best friend Eduardo for having him pushed out of the company. In fact, some of the very best dialogue (and the film is full of great quotes) happens during the deposition scenes. One of my favorites has to be the “Do I have your full attention?” exchange.

There are many great scenes though in the film that I want to talk about, but I can’t mention them all here. One scene I really love is when Mark pulls Eduardo aside during a party and tells him about his idea for Facebook. Mark says “People want to go online and check out their friends, so why not build a website that offers that? Friends, pictures, profiles, whatever you can visit, browse around, maybe it’s someone you just met at a party. Eduardo, I’m not talking about a dating site, I’m talking about taking the entire social experience of college and putting it online.” It’s a fantastic line that spells out exactly what Mark is thinking. Another great line, this time from Sean Parker (Justin Timberlake), is near the end of the film when he’s at the Facebook after-party and says “We lived on farms, then we lived in cities, and now we’re going to live on the internet!” It was a profound statement actually, since it seems like it has come true.

Another memorable scene in the film is very early on, Mark and his girlfriend Erica Albright break-up (or rather she calls him out and dumps him), and he comes back to his dorm room and starts blogging, and building a website where he compares pictures of girls to each other called Facesmash. The scene is perfect. It’s got a great tempo, and the music playing is amazing, which is a rhythmic electronic score conducted and performed by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross. The scene goes back and forth between Mark in his dorm room writing the code for the site, and people arriving at and then partying, during the first major fraternity party of the semester. All-the-while, we hear Mark’s voice describing everything in lightning quick speed.

I really love the choice of actors they got in the film, especially Jesse Eisenberg as Zuckerberg, Andrew Garfield as Eduardo. Armie Hammer (and body double Josh Pence) as Cameron and Tyler Winklevoss, Rooney Mara as Erica, Max Minghella as Divya Narendra, Brenda Song as Christy, and Timberlake as Parker are all also very good. I really want to say that I think Eisenberg should have won the Oscar for Best Lead Actor. I also think that both Garfield and Timberlake should have been nominated for Best Supporting Actor. Garfield was especially robbed, though he did okay since he got to play Spider-Man twice afterwards. With Timberlake, it was interesting seeing him morph from the lead singer of *NSYNC into an Oscar worthy actor. I mean, he was pretty good in Alpha Dog in 2007, but just that much better in The Social Network.

I still get mad when I think about the Oscars, when it was The King’s Speech vs The Social Network, and Tom Hooper’s film won both Best Picture and Best Director. There is absolutely no way that should have happened. It was also disappointing that Jeff Cronenweth lost to Inception for Best Cinematography. At the time I thought Inception was a worthy win, but after seeing The Social Network again and again, I have changed my mind. I am very happy though that Kirk Baxter & Angus Wall won for Best Film Editing – I’d argue that The Social Network could be the greatest edited film ever made. It’s what makes the 2 hour running time feel like 40 minutes. I’m also happy that Sorkin won for Best Adapted Screenplay, and Reznor & Ross won for Best Original Score. The music was so good that Fincher asked them to do it again for The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and Gone Girl. Both great scores as well.

Anyway, what more can I say that I haven’t already? To sum it up, I think it’s a brilliant film that should be considered one of the greatest of all-time. Who knows, maybe by the time the film gets its recognition for being one of the all-time greats, we’ll be using Facebook while living on Mars. All I know is, based on my life to this point, and where I’m at in it, if I could sum up everything that I’d want in a film, it could well be The Social Network.

Masterpiece Memo: L’enfer d’Henri-Georges Clouzot

“You have to see your madness through. You have to take responsibility to the end… I believe there’s a job to do every day and from time to time, ideas do or don’t come. It’s like a seed you plant in the earth. Every day, you water it and whatever grows will grow. And there’s no point pulling the stem to make it grow faster. If you do, you uproot it and that’s that!” – – – Henri-Georges Clouzot

L’enfer d’Henri-Georges Clouzot (Henri-Georges Clouzot’s Inferno) is the apt title for a piece of abstract art, “kinetic art” as the French film-maker himself would have claimed. A 2009 documentary depicting the reels and reels of film left behind, and the story that goes with it, of what is unquestionably tagged the greatest film never made.

Assembled by Serge Bromberg and Ruxandra Medrea, they happened upon Clouzot’s widow Inès, from there it was apparent there was a regretfully unfinished film Inferno, from 1964, which the director believed was his most essential work – and nobody would ever see it. The documentary tells of how this enigmatic non-event warrants the fame and place in cinemas prestigious history. 185 cans of film, consisting of 13 hours of  shot, exposed film. No sound, just images.

With renowned, established greats behind him, L’assassin, Le Corbeau, Quai des Orfèvres, Le salaire de la peur, Les Diaboliques, La Vérité, Clouzot openly suffered from insomnia, with a bout of depression in his history, when started to creative a story that gave physical, visual presence of anxiety and neurosis. Inferno became the obsessive perspective of Marcel, pathologically jealous of his new wife Odette. The script opened with the happy couple but would waste little time in rocking the stability of this fresh relationship.

Following Le mystère Picasso, Clouzot saw a different art form he could be passionate about, and this new wave of creative thinking would aid the development of his new project. Clouzot’s ambitious vision would certainly show in the endless footage of Inferno, so much of which makes it to this illustrious documentary. Unseen rushes of Clouzot and Romy Schneider meeting, hanging out like college kids. Schneider, at 26, was considered a big deal then, not quite 10 years after Sissi in 1955 – the making of her – it was rumored the part of the desirable Odette was written with Schneider in mind.

Marcel’s obsessive jealousy was magnified through such a dynamic use of color, camera framing, dazzling motion tricks, roaming lighting, I mean this is the kind of technical achievements that still knocks you out of your seat today. Inferno was to be a black and white film crammed with a kaleidoscope of emotion-fueled colors. Visions and fantasies, vivid and intoxicating, explode with disorientating colors and light, women appear to wear blue lipstick, the lake inverts to a rich red, . But also, the incomparably radiant Romy Schneider dominates much of the fallacy sequences, revolving glares reveal and hide the contours of her face, glowing tones, the character of Odette licks a front-of-lens water-fall, snippets of arousing caresses, oil-covered flesh, reverse motion of her smoking, plus an immaculately shot of a nude Schneider laying on a track as a train approaches. Words do not do any of this justice.

To state Inferno was a big budget production was only skimming the surface, not an epic film but rather an intricate, super-explorative attempt to feed Clouzot’s unrelenting cinematic eye. That he demanded so much in preparation and execution both emphasized he pure passion and determination, but also shining a light on the difficult working conditions, cast and crew wore down by re-shoots, days and days of shooting, meticulous construction.

Was Clouzot himself obsessive and pathological, like the character of Marcel? Turns out, actor Serge Reggiani (who played Marcel) left the film late into the shoot – he and Clouzot locked horns and only served to build the tension. Clouzot later suffered a heart attack while on location, Schneider herself summarized that this was a turning point that needed to happen to sadly halt the project, his unfinished symphony.

Serge Bromberg and Ruxandra Medrea demonstrate a real, raw pride here in bringing as much of this forgotten dream back to life – clearly they are fans of Clouzot. Accompanying the delicious archive footage of Henri-Georges Clouzot, Romy Schneider and co, the documentarians employ Bérénice Bejo (as Odette) and Jacques Gamblin (Marcel) to read lines of dialogue from Clouzot’s rich, unraveling screenplay. A genius move, able to bring to the screen some of the naturalistic exchanges of pure paranoia. Various V.I.P. interviewees providing much of the first-hand accounts of Clouzot’s journey include Costa-Gavras, Jacques Douy, Inès Clouzot, while Janice Jonesusic’s editing pulls it all together, and Bruno Alexiu’s score fits the era and enigma perfectly.

L’enfer d’Henri-Georges Clouzot is an integral part of not just the history of cinema, but also a prestigious reflection on the modern movie. Documentaries continue to bang down the door, their significance is matched by their stimulation. The beautiful, bewildering, images of Romy Schneider is enough to compel, but the untold story of Clouzot’s Inferno has to be seen in all its glory – the film that was never to be seen by audiences proves to be both a tragedy and a victory for the art of film. A treasure to keep close to your cinematic heart for all time.