The Anatomy of a Cinematic Train Wreck
There are bad movies, and then there is Exorcist II: The Heretic. Released in 1977 as the follow-up to one of the most terrifying films ever made, it didn’t just fail to live up to its predecessor; it practically sprinted in the opposite direction. Now, a new documentary titled 'Boorman and the Devil' takes us behind the curtain of this legendary disaster, proving that sometimes the story of how a movie got made is far more entertaining than the movie itself.
The documentary, recently reviewed by Variety, captures a moment in Hollywood history where creative freedom met utter lack of restraint. Director John Boorman, coming off the success of Deliverance, wasn't interested in making a horror movie. He wanted to make a metaphysical epic about goodness. The result? A film featuring locust swarms, synchronized breathing, and a Richard Burton performance that can only be described as 'intensely confused.'
The Director Who Hated the Original
One of the most striking revelations in Boorman and the Devil is that Boorman actually disliked William Friedkin’s original 1973 masterpiece. He found it 'ugly' and 'cruel.' This disdain for the source material is exactly what led to the sequel’s downfall. Rather than building on the suspense and dread that audiences craved, Boorman pivoted toward a surrealist fantasy that left theater-goers throwing things at the screen.
In our latest deep dives into the Entertainment sector, we often see directors taking risks, but Boorman’s approach was on another level. The documentary uses archival footage and new interviews to show a man completely convinced he was creating a spiritual magnum opus, even as the production crumbled around him. It’s a classic case of a filmmaker being too close to the project to see the locusts for the trees.
Richard Burton and the Art of the Over-the-Top
No discussion of Exorcist II is complete without mentioning Richard Burton. The documentary spends a significant amount of time detailing Burton’s state during filming. By 1977, the legendary actor was grappling with personal demons and a script that required him to deliver lines with a gravitas they didn't deserve. Watching the behind-the-scenes footage, you see a professional trying to make sense of a world where he has to fight a metaphorical demon inside a glass booth.
The stories from the set are as unbelievable as they are funny. From the construction of massive, expensive sets that looked like something out of a fever dream to Linda Blair’s palpable confusion about the direction of her character, Regan MacNeil, the documentary highlights the disconnect between the creators and the craft. It’s these anecdotes that make Boorman and the Devil essential viewing for anyone who loves the messy reality of filmmaking.
Why We Can't Look Away
Why does a disaster from nearly 50 years ago still command our attention? Perhaps it’s because Exorcist II: The Heretic represents a type of failure that doesn't really exist in the modern, corporate-controlled studio system. Today, a sequel to a billion-dollar franchise is focus-grouped to death. In 1977, a director could spend millions of dollars on a vision that was objectively insane, and no one stopped him.
Boorman and the Devil treats its subject with a mix of mockery and genuine fascination. It doesn't just laugh at the film; it analyzes why the failure happened. It looks at the clash of egos, the logistical nightmares of filming in Ethiopia, and the shifting tastes of an audience that just wanted to be scared, not lectured on the migratory patterns of grasshoppers.
The Legacy of 'The Heretic'
Interestingly, the documentary suggests that there is a small, devoted cult following that actually appreciates Boorman’s swing for the fences. While it may be a failure as a sequel, it is an undeniable triumph of imagination—even if that imagination was wildly misplaced. The film is visually striking, featuring cinematography that arguably belongs in a much better movie.
Ultimately, Boorman and the Devil is a reminder that the line between a masterpiece and a catastrophe is razor-thin. It’s a hilarious, insightful, and slightly heartbreaking look at a group of talented people who set out to change the world and instead created a punchline. For film buffs and casual viewers alike, it serves as a masterclass in how not to make a sequel, while celebrating the sheer audacity it takes to fail this spectacularly.
If you're looking for a documentary that balances industry insight with the kind of 'you have to see it to believe it' stories that only Hollywood can produce, this is it. Just maybe leave the synchronized breathing to the professionals.
