Uncle Don’s Views of Nil Repute

Some classic movies, like “Monty Python and the Holy Grail,” “Tremors”

and “Night of the Living Dead” hold their age well.

Others, such as “Citizen Kane” and “Star Wars,” age about as well as

that jug wine collection you’ve got -- you know, the one with screw caps

and expiration dates.

This week’s re-release, which dates prior to the time of Billy Beer,

has aged. Badly.

Playing before a sparse crowd of dozens spread throughout the

deteriorating theater like spew from Linda Blair’s mouth, “The Exorcist”

followed the previews of yet another movie about possessed people.

From its opening in Northern Iraq to its ending in Georgetown, from

the stone ruins of the past to the stone buildings of the present, “The

Exorcist” is more atmospheric than a Stage 5 smog alert in San

Bernardino.

Presumably you know the story. A demon is released during a

archeological dig in Iraq, somehow ends up in Washington, D.C., possesses

some poor little girl and sets up for several sequels.

Poor little Linda Blair is in her first screen role, for which she

received an Academy Award nomination (show me any acting on her part in

this flick). She reached the penultimate point of an acting career that

then degenerated in the direction of “Chained Heat,” “Grotesque” and “Bad

Blood.”

The demon manages to take his time manifesting his presence. There are

noises in the attic, beds that shake and the random body tossed down

flights of stairs. Everyone is so confused.

What’s the matter with Regan (Linda Blair)? This secret friend of

hers, Captain Howdy, who initially speaks to her through a Ouija board --

is he a demon, devil, or Democrat?

Possession being nine-tenths of the law, the demon-dude ain’t gonna

give up the little girl. This clown can levitate, turn heads (the

infamous and now ridiculous-looking 360 degrees), speak in tongues, lower

room temperatures, is psychokinetic, pseudo-psychotic and semi-coherent.

His adversary is, of course, a priest (Jason Miller) who’s lost his

faith -- except in Pall Mall and Jack Daniels. As gloomy as a winter’s

day in Fargo, he’s browbeaten by good ole Mom into examining cute little

Regan.

Turns out Regan is murdering people, losing her social graces,

drooling, barfing and swearing up a storm of curses that would embarrass

an entire battle group of sailors on shore leave.

Father Karras tape-records the little monster and, obviously having

listened to “Revolution 9” a fair number of times, plays the tape

backward. What’s he get? Not Garrison Keillor, but some intelligible

gibberish, none of which I remember.

What a pair. A priest who’s lost his faith and a little girl who’s

lost her class. He drinks and smokes. She spits and swears.

Well, now it’s time to bring in the big gun (Max Von Sydow) to rid

Regan of her demons. The two priests, Max and Jason, are more persistent

than used car salesmen (though not as badly dressed) in their efforts to

make the big, bad demon go bye-bye.

Instead of reciting the rites of exorcism, they oughta drown the

little cretin in a toilet bowl full of holy water.

Now becoming elegiac and expectorant, the expectations of the exorcism

head toward extinction as Regan kills off the old priest.

This relic of the ‘70s just isn’t very good anymore. It wasn’t that

good to begin with. Long overrated, full of cheap thrills, lousy effects,

turgid dialogue and wooden acting, “The Exorcist” is just another aging

movie queen. The years have exposed the flaws. And they aren’t pretty.

Read the book. It’s better.

The scariest movie of all time, as it claims in the TV ads? Naaah.

Seeing two geezers beat the devil out of a little girl ain’t that creepy.

Having Kevin Costner deliver my mail, now that’s horrifying.

* UNCLE DON reviews B-movies and cheesy musical acts for the Daily

Pilot. He can be reached via e-mail at o7 [email protected] .