After more than 40 years, William Friedkin’s The Exorcist retains a visceral power its numerous successors and imitators have not sustained. Its reputation as one of the scariest movies ever made can perhaps overshadow its qualities as an examination of the mystery of faith. At its heart, it is both an exploration of how we cope with the evil in the world around us and a confrontation with our perceptions of victory over that evil.
For those who don’t already know, the narrative revolves around a young girl and her actress mother whose imperfect but comfortable little world comes undone when the girl begins to exhibit evidence of demonic possession. People understandably concentrate on the film’s horror, but in its characters, we have portraits reflecting a spectrum of human frailty. They each, in turn, show us a different way to confront sudden inexplicable tragedy and the problem of evil itself.
Chris MacNeil is a loving mother, a successful career woman, and a confirmed skeptic. When this tragedy strikes her family, she shifts through various stages of doubt and desperation but always cares foremost for the well-being of her daughter. Father Karras is a sincere man of the cloth but finds himself struggling with his faith in light of personal failures and the death of his mother (which he carries as his own fault). Quite suddenly, he finds himself the only hope a desperate mother has for the life of her child. Finally, we have the hero of the film’s title: Father Merrin, the Exorcist. Father Merrin is very old, and his health is failing, but his faith remains firm. When Karras reaches out for someone with experience in the realm of demonic possession, Merrin is called in to help.
When faced with oppressive suffering, many are like the mother, desperate and unable to control or influence any of what’s happening beyond crying out for help. Others, like the older priest, seem assured and steadfast both in their perspective about the circumstance and in their resolve of how to address the crisis. But perhaps where most of us will find ourselves is in the shoes of the young Father Karras.
Karras is a good-hearted, well-meaning man who puts great effort and intention behind living and working for the benefit of others. Yet, his faith is struggling. He is confused by the uncertainty around him and longs for some sign or evidence that his efforts have not been in vain. And amid this distress, he encounters a demon.
A longstanding debate lingers as to whether good triumphs at the end of the film. There are objections, especially among Christian believers, to the fact that the demon does not immediately vacate the little girl upon hearing the name of Jesus – or to the perception that when the demon does leave, it seems to leave because of a better offer rather than being genuinely defeated. Is the film saying that the only power we have over evil is the ability to bargain with it? In some ways, the film can be seen to validate the terrifying perspective that faith is insufficient against the overwhelming degrees of suffering and injustice to which we too often bear witness.
There is a moment in the novel of The Exorcist that was filmed for the movie but not added in until the extended edition was released near the film’s 30th anniversary. The moment involves a break in the ordeal of the exorcism when the older priest (Father Merrin) and the younger priest (Father Karras) slump down at the top of the stairs to catch their breath. Karras looks at Merrin, who seems so assured and confident in his understanding of the conflict they are in, and asks, “Why here? Why this little girl?” Merrin replies, “I think the point is to make us despair. To see ourselves as… animal and ugly. To make us reject the possibility that God could love us.” Perhaps we all can understand such despair.
Father Merrin’s heart eventually gives out, as old hearts sometimes do, and he does not survive the exorcism. What we would want at that moment is for Father Karras to step in, speak with boldness and authority, and drive the demon out of the girl. What happens instead is that he wrestles the demon to the ground and, with a cry of desperate rage, offers himself up in the little girl’s place. When the demon enters him, Karras throws himself out of the third-floor window onto the steps below, ending his life and the demon’s hold on this family. He breaks the darkness by laying down his life.
I know of at least one other story which proceeds in the same way.
There are no safe answers to the questions of evil. There are no pithy catchphrases or clever solutions to the agony of suffering. Instead, we have the courage of fragile hearts and the faith of struggling sinners reaching out for grace. And there is also love. “Greater love has no man than this: that he lay down his life for his friends.” Perhaps the greatest mystery of evil is not its power to make us despair, but its weakness in the face of self-sacrifice.
Reed Lackey (2025)
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