Boorman and the Devil: Behind-the-Scenes of the “Non-Sequel”

From 1974 to 1981, three very distinctive genre films directed by John Boorman released in theaters. Zardoz, the first, was a trippy science fiction fable that has developed a following. The third film, Excalibur, was an Arthurian box office smash hit. The middle film is probably the most interesting from a behind-the-scenes perspective, because it was such a chaotic disaster. It was also allegedly cursed, but that would make sense, considering it was the sequel to another supposedly cursed film, William Friedkin’s The Exorcist. Except, director John Boorman approached the film as an “answer” to the original film rather than a sequel. That certainly contributed to the notoriously hostile reaction to Exorcist II: The Heretic. Boorman and his surviving cast and crew look back on its difficult production and rough reception in David Kittredge’s fascinating documentary, Boorman and the Devil, which opens Friday in New York.

As every horror fan knows, the original Exorcist was a one of the biggest hits of its era. So many low budget movies were ripping it off, Warners wanted to make a sequel (in an era when sequels were rare), even though Friedkin and screenwriter-novelist William Peter Blatty were opposed. Boorman turned down the first film, considering it too dark. However, when the studio approached regarding the sequel, he found William Goodhart’s screenplay intriguing, because it incorporated the ideas of Jesuit mystic Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. Soon, Boorman and his ill-defined collaborator, Rospo Pallenberg took over scripting, penning a draft that was good enough to convince Linda Blair to reprise her breakout role of Regan MacNeil, despite her reservations.

Lee J. Cobb also agreed to return as Lt. Kinderman, but tragically died before production began, initiating the first of many ill-fated rewrites. It all became quite confusing, starting with just what Pallenberg’s role was supposed to be. (Technically, he was credited as 2nd Unit Director, but denied a screenwriting credit by the Writers’ Guild). As had happened on the first film, the “non-sequel” was beset with problems, including Boorman’s debilitating bout with a rare respiratory disease, giving raise to whispers of evil powers at work.

The results were widely considered a mess, which Boorman recut twice after its initial theatrical release. Much like Apocalypse Now and Blade Runner, there are multiple edits in circulation, each of which has its boosters and detractors. In retrospect, many fans and critics now admire its ambition, even if they do not consider it entirely successful.

NYFF ’14: Queen and Country

In 1952, the commanding Winston Churchill was back in 10 Downing Street and war once again entangled the Allies, this time in Korea. He may not have understood it at the time, but the Korean War was a positive development for John Boorman, because it eventually provided the inspiration for his follow-up to the Oscar nominated Hope and Glory. Nine years later, Bill Rohan commences his compulsory military service in Boorman’s Queen and Country (trailer here), which screens as a special Film Comment presentation at the 52^nd New York Film Festival.

Nine year old Rohan would never say the National Socialists never did anything for him, after an errant bomb destroys his school in the end of Hope and Glory. Q&C picks up at that point, rapidly fast-forwarding to his service years. British troops are shipping out to Korea, but through a twist of fate, Rohan and his volatile mate Percy Hapgood are assigned to clerical duties on the base.

While this posting suits Rohan far better than the Korean Peninsula, he still has to contend with Sergeant Major Bradley, a by-the-book stickler, who is constantly bringing Rohan and Hapgood up before the increasingly weary Major Cross on minor rules violations. While Hapgood and the scrounging Private Redmond plot against the Sergeant Major, Rohan pursues an aristocratic beauty in town, whom he will call Ophelia until she corrects him. Scandals and controversies will erupt on the base as England prepares for the coronation of a new monarch, signifying the beginning of a new era.

While Q&C is rather episodically structurally, Boorman really ties it all together in the closing scenes. Clearly, the film is suffused with unabashed nostalgia, but there are also moments of grace and beauty. It is the sequel nobody was expecting, but it leaves us anticipating a third installment of the Rohan chronicles.

While we did not realize it when Hope and Glory was nominated for five Oscars, Rohan may now be aptly compared to Neil Simon’s Eugene Jerome. Just as Hope and Brighton Beach Memoirs cover their surrogates’ formative years, Q&C and Biloxi Blues follow their military stints. Of course, Jerome finds success as comedy writer in Broadway Bound, whereas Rohan’s fascination with the Shepperton film studio not far from his family’s new home seems to foreshadow much.

Unlike the genial wise-cracking Jerome, Rohan is undeniably the blandest figure in Q&C, but that is understandable. We always see ourselves as dullest person in our own stories. We are the workaday pluggers and everyone else must be the cut-ups and cads. So it is with Boorman and Rohan, played serviceably by Callum Turner. In contrast, a nearly unrecognizable David Thewlis delivers a truly year’s best, Oscar worthy performance as the tightly wound Sergeant Major. Although he bears the brunt of most of the film’s comedic jibes, he also is its most potent source of pathos.

Frankly, Q&C is blessed with an embarrassment of riches when it comes to its supporting cast. Richard E. Grant is a delight as Major Cross, doing his usual sly, sophisticated thing, except even more so. Caleb Landry Jones’ Hapgood serves as a suitably destabilizing wild card, while Vanessa Kirby projects the allure and world weariness one could only expect from a young woman who had lived through the emotional travails of war.

Yes, Q&C is old fashioned, but it is wholly satisfying. It is a lovingly crafted period production that perfectly recreates the still distressed look of post-war Britain. It is also a pleasure to watch the accomplished ensemble bring their humanly flawed characters to life. Enthusiastically recommended, Queen and Country screens this Tuesday (10/7) at the Walter Reade, as part of this year’s NYFF.

NYFF ’11: Sodankyla Forever

A film festival must be pretty secure in itself to program a four and a half hour documentary tribute to another festival. Such is the case with the 49th New York Film Festival. Though not exactly an international launching pad, like Toronto or Cannes, the Midnight Sun Film Festival in Sodankylä, Finland has drawn some of the most admired names in the history of cinema. Festival director Peter von Bagh interviewed many of them on-stage, eventually editing some of their most provocative recollections and insights into the four part documentary, Sodankylä Forever, which has a special two-night screening at this year’s NYFF.

Held in June when the Midsummer sun never sets, the festival might be patrons only opportunity for a brief respite of darkness. However, each day’s line-up begins with an in-depth discussion with a prominent filmmaker. In a way, von Bagh’s Sodankylä is particularly timely and appropriate for this year’s NYFF, because it includes several excerpts of interviews with Iranian filmmaker Jafar Panahi, who obviously will not have the opportunity to participate in Q&A sessions after the screening of his latest film, This Is Not a Film.

Indeed, many world class auteurs sat down with von Bagh, including Wim Wenders and Roger Corman, who are also represented at NYFF, as filmmaker and subject, respectively. Yet, for pure movie fans, the highlight of Sodankylä will be hearing Empire Strikes Back director Irving Kershner discus his initial reaction to a sneak peak at Star Wars (or A New Hope as we are now supposed to call it).

Arguably though, the best material comes from filmmakers who labored under the yoke of Communism. Most notably, Krzysztof Zanussi pointedly criticizes the festival’s special screening of Eisenstein’s Battleship Potemkin, explaining how the ideology it sought to promote caused such profound pain for his country. By the same token, von Bagh deserves credit for putting his comments into the film.

Although an entire segment is essentially devoted to picking desert island films, most of Sodankylä proceeds in a rather idiosyncratic fashion. Von Bagh frequently uses something an interview subject said (or almost nearly said) as a transitional hook into the next auteur, like a game of free association featuring the likes of Sam Fuller, Miloš Forman, Abbas Kiarostami, Claude Chabrol, Jacques Demy, Andrei Konchalovsky, Jerzy Skolimoski (who probably has the best one-liner), and John Boorman (who probably offers the funniest anecdotes).

It is important audiences understand Sodankylä is not That’s Entertainment. Throughout the film, the only film clips von Bagh shows are part of wider audience shots. However, (aside from some rather superficial axe-grinding from John Sayles) the collected reminiscences and commentary are all quite perceptive and engaging. One of the more ambitious screening events at the 49th New York Film Festival, Sodankylä is respectfully recommended for earnest students of cinema. It screens in two installments this coming Tuesday (10/11) and Wednesday (10/12) at the Francesca Beale Theater.