Showing posts with label Ellen Burstyn. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ellen Burstyn. Show all posts

Thursday, December 26, 2013

Casting Out a Demon



Chris (Ellen Burstyn): She doesn't remember any of it.

It wasn't long after "The Exorcist" was released to theaters, 40 years ago today, that the news reports were full of stories about people losing their minds while watching it. Well, that's probably an exaggeration. I do remember hearing a lot of reports of moviegoers who fainted or vomited while watching it (some theaters made "Exorcist barf bags" available for squeamish patrons).

I was a child at the time and really didn't understand what was being said. I just knew the story was about a young girl who was possessed by a demon, and her mother sought the help of an exorcist to free her of the demon's grip.

The young girl was Linda Blair, who went on to encourage many a young boy's fantasies in the '70s. "The Exorcist" was the first real glimpse most people had of her. She had a couple of minor roles in some low–profile movies before that; her projects in the next few years could hardly be described as "low profile" — simply because she was in them.

But her movie career — which more or less ground to a halt after she ran into problems with the law in the late 1970s — is the subject for another article at another time.

On this day in 1973, Blair was about to turn 15 — and she was about to become a national sensation.

The role she played was inspired by the last recorded Catholic–sanctioned exorcism in the United States. In that 1949 case, a 13–year–old boy was the victim. Novelist William Peter Blatty altered the victim's gender and the age for the novel that spawned the 1973 movie.

I didn't see it until several years later. The movie was re–released to the theaters (why, I do not know) a few years after its initial release. I wanted to see it, but I was too young to get in without an adult so I talked my father into taking me to see it.

By that time, things like the scenes in which Blair's character vomited pea soup on the priests or spoke in a series of low–pitched voices were practically cliches. I remember being distracted from the story on the screen several times by the persistent giggles of a group of young people in the back of the theater.

No one was giggling in 1973.

The Oscars didn't reward makeup work until the 1980s; I suppose makeup was considered part of costumes until that time, but "The Exorcist," which was nominated for 10 Oscars, did not receive a nomination for its costumes — or any other category that would have taken into consideration the really impressive achievement of transforming a seemingly ordinary young girl into a victim of demonic possession.

Director William Friedkin (a recent Best Director winner for "The French Connection") broke a lot of ground in special effects (which, I suppose, included the makeup) and, simultaneously, pushed the project over budget. But it earned more than $440 million at the box office, which probably compensated for quite a bit.

In the movie, Regan's possession put mounting pressure on her actress mother (Ellen Burstyn), who first sought the help of doctors but gradually became convinced that her daughter's behavior was due to possession.

As with the case that inspired the story, a Ouija board was the conduit.

The British theater director for Regan's mother died after falling from a window in Regan's bedroom, and a detective (Lee J. Cobb) was called in to investigate.

For her part, Burstyn called in a young priest (Jason Miller), who evaluated the situation and decided that an exorcist (Max von Sydow) was needed.

And the two priests did battle with the demon.

I read Blatty's novel before I saw the movie. When I saw it, I was disappointed that most of the theological conversations between the demon and the young priest that were in the book did not make it into the movie. I understood then (as I understand now) that it simply isn't feasible for everything in a book to be included in a movie version. There will always be things that are omitted, for one reason or another.

But I found those conversations to be the most thought–provoking parts of the book. The demon, essentially, challenged the priest's faith by pointing out inconsistencies in scriptures and religious practices and beliefs; the priest deftly defended his faith in a fascinating display of linguistic dexterity.

Because of the subject matter, I guess it was really no surprise that there were numerous claims that the project was cursed. There were so many incidents while the movie was being made that priests were brought in frequently for the purpose of blessing the set.

Books and movies and music that deal with supernatural topics are often magnets for suspicion. Not surprisingly, I guess, "The Exorcist" was accused of many controversial things, the most controversial may have been the suggestion that it used subliminal effects in its sound and imagery. I recall hearing such allegations, but I don't recall the messages that supposedly were being transmitted.

Maybe it was fallout from the backward masking, both actual and alleged, in Beatles records a few years earlier.

Friday, November 22, 2013

A Once-a-Year Rendezvous



Doris (Ellen Burstyn): You know, I can really talk to you. It's just amazing. I find myself saying things to you that I didn't even know I thought. I noticed that yesterday right after we met in the restaurant.

George (Alan Alda): We had instant rapport. Did you notice that, too?

Doris: No. But I know we really hit it off.

Ever since I first saw "Same Time Next Year" at the theater, I have marveled at it.

Part of that is due to the quality of the stars, Alan Alda and Ellen Burstyn. They pulled off what I think must be one of the greatest challenges for an actor — to portray a character through different stages of his/her life over an extended period of time. In this case, the story followed the lives of two people who lived apart nearly all the time — except for one weekend a month, which they spent in each other's arms.

"Did you know," Alda's character asked near the end of the movie, "we've made love 113 times?" He said he figured that out on his calculator and observed that there probably wasn't anything about Burstyn he didn't know. "I think it's wonderful when two people know each other so well."

It is a very personal movie.

It is also a testimonial, I think, to how talented Alda and Burstyn are that, through their characters' descriptions of their spouses and children, the audience knew all about their lives, so much so that, as Burstyn's character said when told that Alda's character's unseen spouse had died, "I never even met Helen, and I feel as if I just lost my best friend."

The characters met by chance in the early 1950s when they were both in their 20s, and their story was told in vignettes separated by about five or six years until the late 1970s. The illusion of the passage of time was aided by superb makeup but also (as it was with Dustin Hoffman in "Little Big Man" and Cicely Tyson in the made–for–TV flick, "The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman") by the actors' skill. Subtle changes that betray the influence of the aging process were expertly used to complete the effect.

Each vignette was connected by a kind of movie collage of images from the intervening years. I'm a history buff so that is the kind of thing that appeals to me. It helped to put things into historical context — although, being the nitpicker I am, I couldn't help noticing an inconsistency.

In the vignette for 1966, Alda was a right–winger (a reaction, as it turned out, to the death of his son in Vietnam) while Burstyn was a left–wing flower child who had gone back to school to find herself. They argued when Alda acknowledged that he had supported Barry Goldwater for president.

Goldwater did run for president. That wasn't the problem. The problem was twofold — Goldwater ran for president in 1964, and the premise of the story was that Alda and Burstyn got together once a year. With the vignette set in 1966, what happened in 1965? Did Burstyn not notice the change in Alda? Did Alda not notice the change in Burstyn? That was never mentioned.

For that matter, if the 1964 rendezvous was before the election, wouldn't the characters have argued about it then, not two years later? Lyndon Johnson won the 1964 election in a landslide, but, by 1966, his popularity tanked with approval ratings in the 40s by August. I would think that, instead of being as morose as he was initially, Alda's character of 1966 would have had a "told you so" attitude.

But it wasn't like that at all. Alda's character at that point in the story was a man overwhelmed by a rapidly changing world, which is certainly something to which everyone can relate on some level. When he said he was a "very old–fashioned" kind of guy, I think anyone could sympathize with that feeling on some level, too, regardless of personal politics.

I always thought the best scene in the movie came about halfway through when Alda's character was struggling with impotence ("I'm seeing someone out here who's an expert") and Burstyn's character was very pregnant.

George: We'd been to a party and we had a few drinks. So we went to bed and we started making love. And nothing happened. I mean for me. I mean, I ... I couldn't ... well, you get the picture.

George: I mean it was no big deal. I mean we laughed about it. And then about a half hour later, just as I was going to sleep, Helen turned to me and said, 'It's funny. When I married a CPA, I always thought that it would be his eyes that would go first.' "

It was such an honest scene, with Alda helping Burstyn deliver the baby, who was born prematurely.

Reminded of that near the end of the movie, Burstyn said she considered it "our finest hour."

It was certainly one of them. But it was too hard to narrow down a finest minute in this movie, let alone a finest hour.