|This was the only scene in the movie that REALLY freaked me out|
I saw The Exorcist last night at the movie theater. I had never seen it, other than a clip here and there since it came out forty years ago. I went to see it with my friend D, and I had a gin martini with lime and simple syrup, straight up beforehand, along with some moules frites. The drink made me just this shy of buzzed, so I felt no anxiety -- I hate scary movies and never watch them -- when I sat down to watch in the sold-out theater. I have to say that the movie didn't hold up all that well, even on a big screen. I don't know if this is because we've become so accustomed to slick productions that the technical "wizardry" of 1972 seemed really lame or because the movie is such a part of our cultural lexicon that it didn't surprise me. I enjoyed Ellen Burstyn and her fantastic clothes, and the priest with the sad, dark eyes was wonderful as were the interior shots and some of the foggy Georgetown exteriors. Man Von Sydow was amazing as usual, but he was old in the movie and that was forty years ago! I think he's still alive now, so that sort of distracted me. The director and various others related to the film were there to answer questions afterward, but it was an earnest, fawning crowd, so we left. I think my favorite part of the evening, actually, was that gin martini. It was so perfectly tart.
Speaking of demons, have you read Stephen King's fantastic piece in The Daily Beast? It's called Tax Me for F@%&'s Sake, and it'll make your head spin around a whole lot faster than Linda Blair's. Read it here.