Repossessed
What's scarier than the new version of The Exorcist? Writing about it.
      by Sarah Kendzior

Max von Sydow casts out evil in The Exorcist.

Or maybe not.

"What did you put in that was new, for the nine minutes?"

"It was 11 minutes."

Okay, now this is truly getting ridiculous. Not only do the press notes list in pain-staking detail exactly what was added to the film, but Warner Bros had been kind enough to provide five screenings the week before precisely to prevent this scenario from occurring. Alas, t'was to no avail. It never is, damn it. What is wrong with these people? This has got to be the easiest job in the world, unless you're one of those crazy people who actually cares and tries to make an effort. And this man clearly is not. So what's his damage, anyway?

Thankfully, the guy next to you intervenes with the second relevant question of the day.

"So how do you see this new cut as better bearing out the themes of the film?"

Well, that's fairly impressive.

Yeah, William Peter Blatty, how?

"Well, there was no moral center to the film without those scenes. None. Whatsoever. It went from shock to shock, very exciting, wonderful. It made me a very comfortable man most of my grown life--"

And this is your punishment for it, my friend! Mwahahaha! Pazuzu lives!

"Everyone says, 'Oh, it's a classic,' and that's fine. But as I told Billy, I said, 'Yes, it's a classic. But the first version they showed me was a masterpiece. I've been campaigning to restoring these changes for 27 years. I wrote a book about it."

And that's that. More questions abound from one journalist, who clearly had her article pre-planned, about the real exorcism behind the story, the one that wasn't inspired by Shirley MacClaine. Laptop Boy asks how many copies the book sold. 13 million. He asks whether Hollywood wanted a movie version because the book was so popular.

"No, no. It happened because of a Warner Brothers executive's dog," says William Peter Blatty. You gaze at this man. "Warners, along with everyone else, had turned down the story. Then a producer got interested in him, and he gave it to John Kelly, who is in charge of creative affairs down at WB. John read it at home, at night, in his bed. John told me he got scared, he was alone in the house, and it was creepy. So he called the dog up on the bed with him."

You're not sure you like where this is going.

"The dog until then had been forbidden to get on the bed in the house. He wouldn't come up. It ended in a titanic struggle between he and the dog. He finally got him up on the bed, and he realized at that moment that the book was hot. He was terrified."

So that's how movies get made.

Someone asks, "I heard you're working on a book about Father Merrin."

"No, not me. I have nothing to do with that. That weirdo project with Merrin in Africa? No, they seem unaware that that's been done already in Exorcist 2. I hope that that's never going to happen. I hope and pray to God that it doesn't."

"Is it true that you're working on a sequel or prequel?" Yes! You got in a complete sentence before getting cut off! Too bad it was such a netgeek question. Maybe you're no better than the company you keep after all. Blatty answers, "No, I'm not writing either one--" before being interrupted by --

"How many years were between Exorcist 2 and Exorcist 3?"

Oh God. You take that one back right away.

You zone out, feeling shameful and scared. The next thing you know, Linda Blair is sitting next you, clad in a brown halter top and pleather pants. From XOXO, you learn later in another journalistic query from your high-riding contemporaries.

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