Reviews
‘Boorman and the Devil’ Compels You To Appreciate A Much-Maligned Horror Sequel [BHFF Review]
David Kittredge’s passionate deep dive into Exorcist II: The Heretic pulls back the curtain on the notorious sequel’s troubled production, poor reception, and surprising legacy.
“Is this the movie that kills me?”
There’s something inherently satisfying about a comeback story or when some fringe cult classic suddenly becomes a colossal hit, even if it takes several decades to be appreciated. Horror is a genre that’s ripe with reappraisal and a natural longing for the past. It’s genuinely wild to see which non-existent slashers from the early 2000s are suddenly getting repertory screenings.
Horror’s revisionist history has made its way over to The Exorcist franchise, and fans have gradually come to the defense of rejected entries, like The Exorcist III and even Dominion: Prequel to the Exorcist. However, Exorcist II: The Heretic seems to be eternally razed and a scorched Earth title that’s beyond redemption. That being said, the most interesting film documentaries are the ones about failed productions instead of the winners. Hearts of Darkness, Burden of Dreams, Lost in La Mancha, and Lost Soul are remarkable works that some consider to be even better than the films that they’re talking about. Exorcist II’s reputation makes the aim of Boorman and the Devil so interesting and arguably a richer title than if it were focused on any other Exorcist entry.
It feels like the world wants to forget about Exorcist II: The Heretic, almost as if it’s some shared delusion. It’s a more reviled sequel than any of the most polarizing Halloween or Friday the 13th entries. Made over the course of seven years, director David Kittredge’s (Queer for Fear: The History of Queer Horror) documentary is a sincere, impassioned breakdown of a disgraced sequel’s philosophy, production, and reputation. It will make you want to immediately watch Exorcist II: The Heretic, which is the greatest praise that one could give this documentary.
A sequel to a film that’s as commercially and critically acclaimed as The Exorcist is such fascinating territory to explore. There’s a built-in expectation that a follow-up will pale in comparison to the original, but there’s also a built-in formula that’s easy to ride to success by not rocking the boat. There’s a very easy sequel that director John Boorman could have made with his Exorcist follow-up that wouldn’t have been creatively fulfilling, but likely would have made waves at the box office. Boorman takes a huge risk in doing an extremely unconventional Exorcist sequel that fell flat for most fans, but clearly has a point of view and is trying to do something original with this universe and its approach to demons. Boorman and the Devil doesn’t claim that Boorman’s approach is the best idea for an Exorcist sequel.
However, it does go to great lengths to explain his perspective and why he believed it was the right angle for the sequel. Boorman’s personal insight, boosted by testimonials from people involved in the production like Linda Blair and Louise Fletcher, earnestly examines a layered sequel that’s often dismissed instead of dissected.
Boorman took such painstaking lengths to push the medium forward and make a sequel that was visually innovative, on top of everything else. Kittredge breaks down the film’s complex cinematography and the lengths that they took to secure certain shots, including the lost art of in-camera effects like “ghost glass,” matte paintings, and evolving camera technology. This is a film that Boorman poured himself into because he wanted to create a dense meditation that’s a layered response to the original and the questions that it asks, rather than some standard run-of-the-mill sequel. Despite these lofty goals, Boorman left the experience genuinely unsure if he would ever direct another movie again in his life.
Boorman and the Devil has so much to say regarding Boorman’s psychology during the film’s production and the high expectations that this sequel faced. The film’s failure and the subsequent tarnishing of the Exorcist franchise as a whole is compelling territory for the documentary to unpack. However, the doc also benefits from just how many unbelievable disasters and setbacks took place during filming. This was literally a film where Boorman nearly died during production, the likes of which seemed to be plagued by curses as if they were personally being tortured by Pazuzu.
There are ridiculous stories about filming hurdles and production woes that guarantee that Boorman and the Devil will keep the interest of anyone who is even slightly intrigued by film production. The documentary does so much more than just the bare minimum of “Did you Know?” and regurgitated tales that have filled endless sound bites. Kittredge builds upon these entertaining production woes and pushes them even further. At nearly two hours, the documentary doesn’t belabor itself or overstay its welcome, but it makes sure to absolutely pack its runtime with as much insight and ephemera as possible.
Kittredge’s doc digs deep into Exorcist II’s troubled production, but it’s also just as interested in its director, both as an individual and as the one at the helm of this out-of-control oddity. This perspective becomes the film’s secret weapon. At no point does Boorman and the Devil insult Exorcist II or try to humiliate its production. This is a documentary that’s all about understanding and trying to put the audience into the mindset of someone who entered this production with the best of intentions and the goal of truly innovating a franchise in a sequel that was already set up to fail, so to speak. It’s a deep meditation on dashed dreams and when reality fails to live up to expectations.
Boorman and the Devil presents the necessary context to leave the audience feeling crestfallen that this sequel didn’t connect and find an audience, even if they don’t like it themselves. It presents Boorman as a true innovator, not a journeyman director who wanted an easy paycheck. In many ways, the position that Boorman was placed in feels comparable to where Mike Flanagan is currently situated with his follow-up to the legacy sequel, The Exorcist: Believer. Boorman and the Devil pays off this connection by including Flanagan as one of the many contemporary interview subjects, alongside Karyn Kusama and Joe Dante, who weigh in to defend Exorcist II. Honestly, everyone who you would want to chime in on the maligned sequel manages to pop up here. No stone goes unturned.
This emphasis on Boorman, rather than purely focusing on Exorcist II, lends itself to some enlightening reflection by including Boorman himself in the discussion. The filmmaker, who is now 92, reflects on what was arguably the worst experience of his professional career, which happened close to 50 years ago. Boorman and the Devil benefits from how it juxtaposes Boorman’s current self, who made peace long ago with the younger and scrappier version of him who had something to prove. Both of these versions are juxtaposed against each other and contrasted to great effect. It’s an enlightening deconstruction of how Boorman has grown since Exorcist II’s production and the symbiotic way in which the film changed him. He’s carried the weight of it on his shoulders for the rest of his career.
Boorman and the Devil is absolutely everything that you’d want from an Exorcist II deep dive reclamation. Kittredge’s thorough exploration of this title is evident, and compelling information is put together in an impressive, comprehensive package that avoids many of the standard talking head documentary pitfalls. It’s also surprisingly funny. Boorman’s liberated attitude towards Exorcist II creates the perfect atmosphere where he can joke about wishing that he had actually died during production so that he wouldn’t have to endure the film’s release. Boorman and the Devil goes above and beyond to be the definitive text on Exorcist II. This documentary will delight horror and Exorcist fans alike, but it also provides incredible insight for anyone who is just marginally interested in film production. The film is even accessible in an even broader sense when it comes down to the eternal pursuit of art versus commerce and why big swings – even failed ones – are so important.
Exorcist II: The Heretic may have ruined Boorman’s career, yet there’s a poetic beauty to the fact that he’s responsible for some iconic cinema like Deliverance, Excalibur, and Point Blank, yet it’s Exorcist II that’s the only title from his filmography that’s the subject of an entire documentary. This speaks to the power of this ambitious misfire and the legacy that it’s left behind, not just as a vilified sequel, but a cautionary lesson in brand expansion and the perils of commerce versus art.
Boorman and the Devil screened at the Brooklyn Horror Film Festival; release info TBD.
Movies
‘Recluse’ Review – Harrowing Haunted House Horror With Lots Of Skeletons In Its Closet [Tribeca 2026]
A haunted house story is tense, terrifying storytelling when it’s properly executed. There’s been a growing tendency in horror to blend together harrowing haunted house stories with traumatic homecomings. A family member’s illness or death triggers a return to something dark that was intentionally left behind. Recluse hits all the tropes that one expects to find in this type of horror film, yet it manages to push this story in a daring, disturbing new direction that uses sound as a superpower.
It’s a unique lens to experience a familiar story about family secrets, generational trauma, unresolved grief, and the importance of not just legacy, but preservation. It’s a hell of a directorial debut from Henry Chaisson that’s guaranteed to get under the audience’s skin as they’re dragged through this painful, toxic tale.
Recluse is a gothic haunted house story where an isolated audio engineer, Joan (Sasha Frolova), returns to her family’s estate to check in on her father after he suffers a terrible accident. Joan suddenly discovers something much more sinister that paints her family’s tragedies in a very different light. Chaisson’s debut functions as a fascinating companion piece to this year’s undertone, which does a lot of the same things.
These two films make for a fascinating case of parallel thinking that tackles comparable subject matter through a similar lens, albeit in a bigger, less claustrophobic story in Recluse’s case. In fact, it’s the perfect horror film for anyone who was let down by undertone and didn’t feel like it brought enough to the table. It’s a considerably more conventional horror film, but this isn’t meant to denigrate its high quality. Recluse may hit some familiar notes, but it’s a scary, well-crafted haunted house horror story that goes for the jugular.
A gripping mystery that involves the tragic, unresolved circumstances that surround Joan’s mother teases a chilling connection to the recent horrors that have afflicted her father. Joan desperately tries to put these pieces together and give her family some sense of grander peace before she’s pulled under and becomes another victim of this festering curse that’s systematically worked its way through the Wyatt family. By doing so, Recluse digs into some deeper commentary on collective trauma, a very literal look at the “sins of the father” adage, and how one selfish decision can ripple through generations and fracture off into different dilemmas. By the end, Recluse has brilliantly flipped the powerful concept of legacy on its head by illustrating the horrors and sense of entitlement that can be born out of this idea.
A legacy is just another name for a curse under the right context.
”Listen” is a simple but powerful command from Joan’s father that she briefly obsesses over. In a way, it becomes Recluse’s grander mission statement, whether it’s in response to Joan listening to the people in her life, the signals that her body and mind are telling her, or the world’s greater whims. It’s important to reconnect with these grounding pillars, especially when it feels like control is slipping away.
Recluse excels with how audio and soundscapes can create entire universes that are full of rich details that transport individuals to these environments. There’s also a level of objectivity when it comes to audio recordings and the evergreen permanence that they’re able to provide. Joan’s career as an audio engineer makes sense for someone who wants to cling to hard evidence and proof of existence. It provides great insight into Joan without ever getting lost in contrived exposition.
Joan’s entire life is built around audio engineering, and so it makes sense that Recluse features excellent sound design that really goes above and beyond with its production elements. All of the sound design is expertly handled and turns the film into something special. These auditory elements intuitively keep the audience on edge so that they’re more susceptible to the actual scares that eventually strike. The smallest sound effect gets turned into a crushing, cacophonous assault. It’s a really effective way to build terror. Writer/Director Chaisson also handles the film’s music, which achieves a sublime, unnerving dissonance that further heightens the free-floating anxiety.
The story at the center of Recluse is slightly generic in some respects, but the film’s visual language and tone make it feel distinctly memorable. It also doesn’t hurt that the home that Joan returns to is basically an eerie art studio that’s full of contorted paintings. Recluse never struggles to generate mounting dread and terror that pump through every scene. Powerful, thoughtful cinematography consistently reinforces the film’s themes. Joan is constantly reflected in different surfaces or viewed through mirrors. She’s also often confined to tight, constricting framing that all speaks to her refracted identity during this moment of loss and her attempts to regain agency and control by making sense of something that’s seemingly unexplainable.
Recluse is full of truly disturbing visuals that make it seem like Joan is lost in a dream that turns out to be an extended nightmare. It’s a surreal journey reminiscent of invasive psychological horror like Silent Hill, with a touch of Sinister and Hereditary thrown in for good measure. There are so many individual frames that could endlessly fuel urban legends and creepypastas.
It does a great job with how it presents Joan’s fragile state of mind, where chilling flashes of the past sneak up on her and unresolved trauma manifests into unsettling imagery. There are endless shots that are obscured in darkness, or shadow is creeping in from the corners of frames like a suffocating force of nature. It’s very rare that a scene is fully lit. It leads to a very lonely, isolating atmosphere that’s easy to get lost in.
Chaisson’s debut stands out from the many other high-minded haunted house horror films without succumbing to the same pretensions that often drag down these stories. It’s a grief-stricken character study that’s full of upsetting visuals that scratch at something visceral and raw. The horror elements connect, and the answers to its grander mystery provide an appropriate and believable sense of closure. Those who are looking for an atmospheric horror film that isn’t afraid to be different while still channeling something real will appreciate Recluse.
Recluse made its world premiere at Tribeca; release info TBD.
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