The Art of Failure: Why 'Boorman and the Devil' is a Must-Watch for Film Enthusiasts
There’s something profoundly human about watching a master grapple with their greatest misstep. Boorman and the Devil, David Kittredge’s documentary about the making (and unmaking) of Exorcist II: The Heretic, isn’t just a post-mortem of a cinematic flop—it’s a meditation on ambition, ego, and the unpredictable alchemy of filmmaking. Personally, I think this is where the documentary transcends its subject matter. It’s not about Exorcist II; it’s about what happens when a visionary director like John Boorman collides with a project he’s fundamentally mismatched for.
The Wrong Man for the Job
One thing that immediately stands out is Boorman’s candid admission that he was the wrong person to helm a sequel to The Exorcist. What makes this particularly fascinating is his openness about disliking the original film. Most directors would sugarcoat their feelings, but Boorman doesn’t. He wanted to make a film about the power of good, a riposte to the original’s exploration of evil. In my opinion, this is where the seeds of failure were sown. Audiences in 1977 weren’t looking for a philosophical counterpoint; they wanted more of the same—more horror, more tension, more of what made the original a cultural phenomenon.
What many people don’t realize is that Boorman had every advantage: a massive budget, final cut, and studio support. Yet, he still managed to create what’s often called one of the worst sequels ever made. If you take a step back and think about it, this raises a deeper question: Can a film fail even when everything seems aligned for success? The answer, it seems, is yes—when the director’s vision is at odds with the audience’s expectations.
Boorman’s Humility and the Weight of Failure
What this documentary does so well is humanize Boorman. He’s not just a director; he’s a gifted storyteller, a man who’s made classics like Point Blank and Deliverance. Yet, Exorcist II sent him into a tailspin. His panic-driven decision to re-edit the film for international audiences only made things worse. A detail that I find especially interesting is how he owns this mistake. He doesn’t deflect blame; he admits it was a huge error. This humility is rare in an industry where failure is often swept under the rug.
From my perspective, this is where the documentary becomes more than just a behind-the-scenes look. It’s a study of resilience. Boorman’s career didn’t end with Exorcist II; he went on to make Excalibur and Hope and Glory. What this really suggests is that failure, even on a grand scale, doesn’t have to define you. It’s how you respond to it that matters.
The Creative Choices That Sank the Ship
Boorman’s creative decisions are a masterclass in what not to do. His insistence on tap-dancing scenes for Linda Blair and the mind-numbing ‘synchronizer’ sequences are baffling in hindsight. But what’s truly revealing is his collaboration with Rospo Pallenberg. They wanted to make a dreamlike film, but their choices were so disconnected from the audience’s expectations that the result was alienating.
What makes this particularly fascinating is how Boorman reflects on these choices decades later. He doesn’t defend them; he dissects them. He acknowledges that he didn’t understand what the audience wanted, and that’s a crucial insight. In my opinion, this is where many filmmakers go wrong—they prioritize their vision without considering the audience’s emotional investment in the material.
The Silver Linings
Despite its flaws, Exorcist II isn’t without merit. Mike Flanagan, who’s directing his own Exorcist film, praises the cinematography by William A. Fraker and Ennio Morricone’s score. This raises a deeper question: Can a film be both a failure and a work of art? Personally, I think it can. Exorcist II is a fascinating failure, a film that’s more interesting to talk about than to watch.
What this really suggests is that even the most flawed films can have redeeming qualities. It’s a reminder that filmmaking is a collaborative art, and sometimes the best intentions don’t translate to the screen.
Why This Documentary Matters
Boorman and the Devil isn’t just for fans of The Exorcist; it’s for anyone who’s ever failed and wondered how to move forward. It’s a testament to the idea that failure isn’t the end—it’s a chapter. What many people don’t realize is that the most successful artists often have the most spectacular failures. Boorman’s story is a reminder that it’s okay to fail, as long as you learn from it.
In my opinion, this documentary is a must-watch because it’s not just about a bad movie; it’s about the human cost of failure and the resilience it takes to bounce back. If you take a step back and think about it, isn’t that what great art—and great documentaries—are all about?
Final Thoughts
As someone who’s always been drawn to the stories behind the stories, Boorman and the Devil is a revelation. It’s a film about failure, but it’s also a film about redemption. Personally, I’d rather watch an interesting failure than a forgettable success any day. And in that sense, Exorcist II: The Heretic—and this documentary—are anything but forgettable.
