The Exorcist director William Friedkin once claimed that a mob of audience members chased Warner Brothers executives down the street during the first public screening of Exorcist II: The Heretic. Chances are, if you’re reading this, you’re a member of that mob – at least in spirit. I may have once thought I’d be part of your mob, but in time I’ve only grown to exponentially love Heretic. The wings of the good locust have brushed me and I’m going to have to put myself in front of your pitchforks, torches, and rotten produce to defend my misunderstood monster.
What exactly is this sequel story that turned the mob violent? The year is 1977, and Regan McNeil has blossomed from a demoniac nightmare into a lovely young woman living the Manhattan life only a Hollywood nepo baby could live. But something’s still not quite right. She’s experiencing bizarre dreams hinting at that time back in Georgetown, and somehow, only Dr. Gene Tuscan (“a very spacey Louise Fletcher,” Joe Bob Briggs once quipped) and her kooky pseudo-Scientology synchronizer contraption can get at the root of the problem.
Meanwhile the Holy Roman Catholic Church can’t leave it alone either. Father Phillip Lamont, played by vodka-soaked master thespian Richard Burton, is asked by Rome to investigate the exorcism that killed Father Lancaster Merrin – but not to canonize the heroic priest. They hint at wanting to brand him a heretic. Make note of this, it’s important.
Lamont and Tuscan join forces, employing the synchronizer to mind-meld with Regan, unleashing an incoherent but beautifully rendered vision quest where we encounter the subject of Merrin’s first exorcism, the African mystic Kokumo (James Earl Jones, coutured at one point in a magnificent locust headdress).
We also encounter Pazuzu! The demon that possessed Regan McNeil back in 1973 is not embodied in this movie by the horrific statue of the Assyrian deity that bears its name. It comes to us as a giant, evil, flying grasshopper that took vocal and songwriting lessons from Yoko Ono.
I’ll spare you the rest of the plot recap, as it would take pages. Just know that it involves a tap dance number, a Coptic Christian ceremony, Regan’s emerging X-Men powers (to the benefit of an unconfirmed and uncredited Dana Plato), a spooky Kitty Winn reprising the role of Sharon, a locust invasion of our nation’s capital, and a near-miss succubus seduction.
Loony incoherence, laughable dialogue and lack of terror may be the surface reasons the movie is reviled. But I have a theory that’s tough to prove: this movie is disliked for serving some real heresies, heresies that subconsciously bother lovers of the fierce Catholic piety of The Exorcist, who hold the image of a stern clerical Christian hero and his tricked-out bling as the only way to vanquish the forces of darkness.
The heresy, you see, is that we don’t need Rome. We never did. Father Lamont’s bumbling efforts and half-assed prayers failed spectacularly. Meanwhile, Kokumo, a holy man that I have to think was not part of any Christian religious tradition, spat a motherfucking leopard at the fearful demon and sent him packing to lick his wounds.
Who will you call when the bed starts shaking?
The heresy is also that Regan’s got the power. As it turns out, this story posits that Regan is not a poor, helpless victim. She is not the sweet, innocent non-character and battleground for God and the Devil’s eternal war. She’s not reduced to a test for a brokenhearted priest. Regan is targeted because she is a super-powered being with the ability to expel demonic forces on her very own.
See? A woman can deliver spiritual salvation, a job that was once the exclusive right of Western clergy. But Merrin knew the truth. A Latin American curandera, an African holy man of his own indigenous faith, and an aspiring Broadway tap dancer all have the power, and the Vatican didn’t like it. A Coptic Christian congregation – still Christian, but outside of the Vatican – ran Lamont off. (Aside: the latest entry in the franchise, Exorcist: Believer, also wanted to assemble a multicultural super-team, but Heretic’s Teilhardian team of stalwarts is way more interesting than that movie’s insipid interfaith coffee klatsch).
Look, If you can’t get on board with this movie, you also can’t deny that it contains copious originality and sheer imagination. You can still appreciate the “visual magic” that Pauline Kael rightfully noted in her review, as well as Ennio Morricone’s stunning music.
Too, the element of terror inspired by the original film might not be there for most, but I was a tween traumatized by the highly censored CBS network TV airing of the original. To casually channel surf one night soon afterwards, and come across Heretic’s scene with a sinister disembodied voice encouraging Regan to do grave harm to herself was triggering. Same with a frightening shot of the possessed young Kokumo, mocking a deadly fall from an Ethiopian cliff. Us 80’s kids, in our Satanic Panic haunted world, knew that a spectral attack by a disembodied spirit was no laughing matter.
Yet I’m also not telling you not to laugh. The joy of an unintentionally funny, so-bad-it’s-good movie like Exorcist II: The Heretic is its capacity to generate laughter and endorphins that will bring you and your Troll 2 loving friends ever closer.
Rolph Picler is the spooky anagram of a soccer dad’s horror blog. He’s a frustrated would-be novelist still trying to placate the vengeful spirits of the Rocky Mountain West.
