The Exorcist is the scariest movie ever made?
Sept 14, 2021 23:50:53 GMT
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Post by Doghouse6 on Sept 14, 2021 23:50:53 GMT
There probably ain't no such animal as "the scariest movie ever made." It's impossible to quantify. But people often do get scared of things that are unknown or unfamiliar to them.
When experienced for the first time, things that aren't inherently frightening on their own can seem scary: first day of school; first sex; first job interview and so on. In 1925, The Phantom Of the Opera was likely the scariest movie experience audiences had had; in 1931, it was Frankenstein; in 1960, Psycho. In each case, it was an experience viewers had never had at a movie. In '73-'74, it's probably fair to say The Exorcist was the scariest film audiences had yet seen. In '75, maybe Jaws. By '79, it might have been Alien. In every one of these examples, it was an experience moviegoers had never had before; a "first". And of those last three, I knew people at the time who were completely freaked out by at least one of them.
Something endemic to thrills and fright in entertainment is anticipation, like that occurring when waiting in a long line for a roller-coaster while the cars go whizzing by and riders scream their heads off. For premiere engagements in '31, Universal contrived to have ambulances parked outside theaters and uniformed doctors and/or nurses in lobbies to attend to patrons who, to paraphrase Edward Van Sloan's pre-credits prologue, couldn't subject their nerves to such a strain. In 1960, Alfred Hitchcock stoked anticipation by requiring exhibitors to refuse any further seating once the film started, and warned patrons in ads not to reveal the big final-reel surprise. To the best of my recollection, the buzz surrounding The Exorcist was organically word-of-mouth, although Warner Bros soon capitalized on it, as reflected in the video submitted by user Mulder and Scully . At the age of 20, the line outside Westwood Village's National Theater was the longest in which I'd ever waited to see a film. And all the while, in full view of those of us waiting, was the three-dimensional "Regan's Window" display attached to the theater's east exterior wall, with the curtains ominously blowing outward photo below).
With that, the long wait and all the hype, patrons were fully primed by the time they took their seats. And whether they were being attention-seeking drama queens or not, there actually were people who bolted from their seats and ran up the aisle toward the lobby either whimpering or gagging. And for all I know, WB paid them to be there and do it, but it had the desired effect on the 1000-plus viewers remaining.
Movies and much else have changed in the nearly 50 years ensuing since The Exorcist's release, and by the time I saw the decades-old Phantom and Frankenstein on TV at ages still in the single digits, they seemed remote and almost quaint to me, having already been scared as a wee tyke in darkened theaters by the likes of House On Haunted Hill, 13 Ghosts and The House Of Usher. So, unless it happens to touch some particular vulnerability, it's not surprising that perhaps the majority of 21st-century viewers may come away from a first watch of The Exorcist with a "What's the big deal" attitude.
I can't really say it scared me nigh unto 48 years ago. I think I can say frankly that the length of the line was as scary as anything: "What? Are you kidding me? Fuckin' line's already halfway around the block. I've never waited two hours for any movie in my life!" But as it unspooled, it did get me, as the saying goes, on the edge of my seat.
All in all and as filmic thrills go, I'd say it more or less amounted to a "ya hadda be there" kind of thing. Just like those customers of '25, '31 or '60.
When experienced for the first time, things that aren't inherently frightening on their own can seem scary: first day of school; first sex; first job interview and so on. In 1925, The Phantom Of the Opera was likely the scariest movie experience audiences had had; in 1931, it was Frankenstein; in 1960, Psycho. In each case, it was an experience viewers had never had at a movie. In '73-'74, it's probably fair to say The Exorcist was the scariest film audiences had yet seen. In '75, maybe Jaws. By '79, it might have been Alien. In every one of these examples, it was an experience moviegoers had never had before; a "first". And of those last three, I knew people at the time who were completely freaked out by at least one of them.
Something endemic to thrills and fright in entertainment is anticipation, like that occurring when waiting in a long line for a roller-coaster while the cars go whizzing by and riders scream their heads off. For premiere engagements in '31, Universal contrived to have ambulances parked outside theaters and uniformed doctors and/or nurses in lobbies to attend to patrons who, to paraphrase Edward Van Sloan's pre-credits prologue, couldn't subject their nerves to such a strain. In 1960, Alfred Hitchcock stoked anticipation by requiring exhibitors to refuse any further seating once the film started, and warned patrons in ads not to reveal the big final-reel surprise. To the best of my recollection, the buzz surrounding The Exorcist was organically word-of-mouth, although Warner Bros soon capitalized on it, as reflected in the video submitted by user Mulder and Scully . At the age of 20, the line outside Westwood Village's National Theater was the longest in which I'd ever waited to see a film. And all the while, in full view of those of us waiting, was the three-dimensional "Regan's Window" display attached to the theater's east exterior wall, with the curtains ominously blowing outward photo below).
With that, the long wait and all the hype, patrons were fully primed by the time they took their seats. And whether they were being attention-seeking drama queens or not, there actually were people who bolted from their seats and ran up the aisle toward the lobby either whimpering or gagging. And for all I know, WB paid them to be there and do it, but it had the desired effect on the 1000-plus viewers remaining.
Movies and much else have changed in the nearly 50 years ensuing since The Exorcist's release, and by the time I saw the decades-old Phantom and Frankenstein on TV at ages still in the single digits, they seemed remote and almost quaint to me, having already been scared as a wee tyke in darkened theaters by the likes of House On Haunted Hill, 13 Ghosts and The House Of Usher. So, unless it happens to touch some particular vulnerability, it's not surprising that perhaps the majority of 21st-century viewers may come away from a first watch of The Exorcist with a "What's the big deal" attitude.
I can't really say it scared me nigh unto 48 years ago. I think I can say frankly that the length of the line was as scary as anything: "What? Are you kidding me? Fuckin' line's already halfway around the block. I've never waited two hours for any movie in my life!" But as it unspooled, it did get me, as the saying goes, on the edge of my seat.
All in all and as filmic thrills go, I'd say it more or less amounted to a "ya hadda be there" kind of thing. Just like those customers of '25, '31 or '60.