Fifty years after its release, William Friedkin’s horror classic “The Exorcist” is still scary enough to frighten the twists out of your Twizzlers. The story of a 12-year-old girl, possessed by the Devil, and her mother Chris MacNeil’s attempt to rescue her through an exorcism, inspired nightmares and even reports of audiences becoming physically ill at screenings.
The four sequels spawned by the success of the original, not so much.
Coming back for another shout at the Devil is “The Exorcist: Believer,” the sixth installment in “The Exorcist” franchise.
The spirited new film, a direct sequel to the original, sees single father Victor Fielding (Tony winner and Oscar nominee Leslie Odom, Jr) raising daughter, Angela (Lidya Jewett) after the death of his pregnant wife in a Haitian earthquake 12 years ago.
When Angela and her friend Katherine (Olivia Marcum) disappear for three days, they come back changed, with no memory of what happened to them.
“Wherever those girls went,” says Katherine’s father Tony (Norbert Leo Butz), “they brought back something with them.”
Victor believes they are possessed by the Devil, and, in desperation, seeks help from someone who has been there, done that.
“You have some experience with possession?” Chris MacNeil (Ellen Burstyn), the mother who battled the Devil in the original film, is asked.
“Yes,” she replies, “more than I’d like.”
MacNeil understands the devilish happenings, and thinks she knows how to help. “Exorcism is a ritual,” she says. “Every culture, every religion, they all use different methods. It’s going to take all of them.”
Did the Devil make director David Gordon Green do it? That might be the only way to explain the hellishly dull experience of watching “The Exorcist: Believer.”
The movie begins with promise as Green sets up the story and a sense of foreboding, only to have it go all to heck once Angela and Katherine come back from the woods worse for the wear and tear.
From that point on, “The Exorcist: Believer” is a soulless collection of William Friedkin’s greatest hits. The inverted crosses, bloated faces, waggling tongues and spinning heads had real shock value 50 years ago when “The Exorcist” traumatized a generation of moviegoers, but today they are cliches with the shock value of AAA battery.
So, instead of terror, we’re given jump scares. Instead of the ultimate good vs. evil showdown, we’re treated to a mish mash of overlapping theological blather that makes very little sense. The Devil, Green seems to suggest, can be defeated by community but the exploration of faith that made Friedkin’s film a classic is nowhere to be seen.
Burstyn provides franchise continuity, but little else. She’s brought in as an expert of exorcisms, but isn’t given much to do other than serve as a touchstone to a different, better film.
If you go see “The Exorcist: Believer” you may have a hard time believing what a mess they made of it.
Richard and CTV NewsChannel morning show host Jennifer Burke chat up the weekend’s big releases including the relentless return of Michael Myers in “Halloween Kills,” the emotional family drama “Mass” and the rock ‘n’ roll documentary “The Velvet Underground.”
The story of “Mass,” a new drama from writer-director Fran Kranz, now playing in theatres, is simple but the emotions it evokes are anything but.
A bland meeting room in an Episcopal church in Idaho is the backdrop for the meeting of two couples bound together by shared trauma. Years before, Richard and Linda’s (Reed Birney and Ann Dowd) son Hayden shot and killed eleven kids in a high school massacre, including Gail and Jay’s (Martha Plimpton and Jason Isaacs) son Evan. The intimate summit is meant to provide clarity and closure, but distrust and frustration steer the proceedings as they volley anger and recrimination back and forth.
“Mass” often feels like a stage play transposed to the screen. The bulk of the “action” takes place in one room, around a table as the four hash out the events that shaped their lives in the aftermath of the tragedy. A tempest of anguish, blame and forgiveness, it forcefully mines the emotion of the situation without resorting to sensational flashbacks or lurid recreations of the film’s defining event. Instead, director Kranz trusts the performances and the words to do the job. “I loved Hayden so much,” says Richard, “but maybe he should never have been born.”
Questions about responsibility, radicalization, gun culture and mental illness are woven into “Mass’s” fabric, but the movie is more interested in the human dynamic than answering those queries. This is about the who, not the why.
To that end the main cast members are never anything less than believable. Each explore a different avenue of grief and remembrance, and each deliver an acting masterclass. Restrained and realistic, the actors go deep, unconcerned with flashy pyrotechnics or showboating.
“Mass” is raw and real, devastating, nuanced and somber, a beautifully acted study in misery that allows for a flicker of hope.
What the new remake of Daphne du Maurier’s “Rebecca,” starring Lily James, Armie Hammer and Kristin Scott Thomas and now streaming on Netflix, lacks in gothic thrills it makes up for in eye candy.
Taking over as handsome widower Maxim de Winter, the role Laurence Olivier made famous in Alfred Hitchcock’s Oscar winning 1940 film, is Armie Hammer. Max is a charmer, a trust fund aristocrat with a beautiful estate, called Manderley, and a dead wife, named Rebecca.
On vacation in Monte Carlo a young woman (Lily James) catches his eye when she is refused service on the balcony of a fancy hotel restaurant. She is not a guest, she’s told, but an employee of a guest and therefore must eat elsewhere, anywhere but among the wealthy tourists enjoying their canapes and champagne. He invites her to join him and a whirlwind romance ensues. When her boss decides it’s time to travel to New York for debutant season, Max asks her to stay with a marriage proposal.
They move to Manderley, his family home on the windswept English coast. The sprawling home has been in his family for generations and is so grandly appointed it makes Downton Abbey look like an outhouse. At Manderlay the romance, which blossomed quickly, fades as the specter of Rebecca, the late lady of the estate, hangs heavy over the house and on Max’s mind.
Keeping Rebecca alive in heart and in mind is Mrs. Danvers (Kristin Scott Thomas), Manderley’s baleful housekeeper. She is not impressed by Max’s naïve new bride who she thinks is trying to take Rebecca’s place.
Cue the dirty tricks, withering glances and gothic tomfoolery.
“Rebecca,” directed by Ben Wheatley, is undeniably beautiful looking. From its good-looking stars to the sumptuous production design is by Sarah Greenwood, it will make your eyeballs dance. The set decoration at Manderley alone is “Architectural Digest: Baroque Edition” worthy, but this is a movie that wants to appeal to more than just your eye and that’s where it disappoints.
The bones of the story seem perfect for a 2020 revisit. du Maurier’s exploration of the power imbalance between a wealthy man and a woman who must fight to find her own sovereignty is timely but undone by a story that never takes hold.
Hammer’s take on Max misses the essential coldness of the character. He’s short tempered, snippy and brusque but the icy core necessary to freeze out the new Mrs. de Winter is missing. Without that character element his reactions to events don’t bring the friction needed to engage the audience. At the pivotal ballroom scene, where the new bride is (MILD SPOILER ALERT) tricked into making a serious error in judgement, Max seems irked, pouty but the wound that is unintentionally opened doesn’t seem particularly deep. If Max doesn’t care that much, why should we?
From that moment on Wheatley drifts through the story with none of his patented risk taking—think his daring adaptation of J.G. Ballard’s “High-Rise” or his edge-of-your-seat “Kill List”—relying Clint Mansell’s score to provide the emotional highs and lows.
Like the story’s female protagonist the new version of “Rebecca” is haunted, this time by the ghosts of the story’s previous incarnations.
