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 art. 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 many people don’t realize is that Boorman didn’t even like the original film. Instead of leaning into its dark, visceral horror, he aimed to create a counterpoint—a film about the power of good. From my perspective, this is where the tragedy begins. Boorman’s vision was noble, but it was also tone-deaf to what audiences in 1977 wanted. If you take a step back and think about it, this mismatch between artist and audience is a recurring theme in cinema. How often do filmmakers prioritize their own vision over market expectations, only to crash and burn?
What makes this particularly fascinating is Boorman’s willingness to shoulder the blame. In an industry where directors often point fingers at studio interference or budget constraints, Boorman admits he had creative freedom, a massive budget, and a supportive studio. The failure, he says, was his. This level of self-awareness is rare, and it’s what elevates Boorman and the Devil from a mere behind-the-scenes exposé to a deeper exploration of artistic responsibility.
The Anatomy of a Flop
A detail that I find especially interesting is Boorman’s insistence on certain creative choices that doomed the film. The tap-dancing scenes with Linda Blair? The hypnotic “synchronizer” sequences that bored audiences to tears? These weren’t just bad ideas—they were symptomatic of a larger disconnect. Boorman and his collaborator, Rospo Pallenberg, were trying to create a dreamlike, abstract film, but they forgot one crucial thing: The Exorcist was a nightmare, not a dream.
What this really suggests is that even the most talented filmmakers can lose sight of their audience. Boorman’s failure wasn’t just about poor execution; it was about misunderstanding the essence of the original film. In my opinion, this is a cautionary tale for any artist. Sometimes, the boldest visions are also the most misguided.
The Human Side of Failure
What many people don’t realize is how deeply Exorcist II’s failure affected Boorman. He didn’t just move on to his next project; he panicked, re-editing the film for international release in a desperate attempt to salvage it. This raises a deeper question: How do artists recover from failure? Boorman’s career didn’t end with Exorcist II, but the documentary hints at the emotional toll it took. It’s a reminder that even the most celebrated creators are vulnerable to self-doubt.
Yet, there’s a strange beauty in Boorman’s openness. He’s not just a director reflecting on a flop; he’s a human being grappling with his own fallibility. This vulnerability is what makes Boorman and the Devil so compelling. It’s not a story of redemption—it’s a story of acceptance.
The Case for Interesting Failures
Speaking for myself, I’d rather watch an interesting failure than a competently made but soulless film. Exorcist II may be a disaster, but it’s a disaster born of passion and ambition. Compare that to something like The Exorcist: Believer, a recent entry in the franchise that feels like it was assembled by committee. What this really suggests is that failure, when it comes from a place of genuine creativity, can be more valuable than success.
This brings me to Mike Flanagan’s interview in the documentary. As someone currently directing his own Exorcist film, Flanagan’s appreciation for Exorcist II’s cinematography and score is telling. It’s a reminder that even flawed films can have moments of brilliance. In my opinion, this is the documentary’s greatest achievement: it forces us to reconsider what we value in art.
Final Thoughts
Boorman and the Devil isn’t just a documentary about a failed film—it’s a documentary about the creative process itself. It’s about the risks artists take, the mistakes they make, and the lessons they learn. Personally, I think it’s a must-watch for anyone who cares about film, not because it’s a cautionary tale, but because it’s a celebration of the messy, unpredictable nature of art.
If you take a step back and think about it, failure is an inevitable part of creation. What matters is how we respond to it. Boorman’s story is a testament to resilience, humility, and the enduring power of artistic ambition. And that, in my opinion, is far more interesting than any successful sequel could ever be.
