For a post-Halloween transitional review, I wanted to look at an interesting film that I saw many years ago. It’s a fascinating mixture of psychological drama and quirky comedy, and on top of all that, it’s also kind of a sequel to The Exorcist. You might be shocked to hear that, especially since this film is so obscure, but I’ll explain the details of this later. As for the film itself, while I do think that it feels restrained cinematically in some areas, I find that it hits on the ideas it aims for effectively, and in doing so, manages to capture a feeling of existential dread that goes toe to toe with The Exorcist itself. I’ll give a summary of the plot, then we can get into things.
The film takes place in an old Hungarian castle that’s being utilized as an insane asylum. More specifically, it’s an asylum for Vietnam War soldiers who have gone insane, though the staff and higher-ups suspect that the men may very well be faking their psychoses. Among the patients are a Reno, who puts on Shakespearean plays where all the actors are dogs; Nammack, an African American man who often dresses like Superman except with an “N” on his emblem; and most notably, Cutshaw, who’s actually an astronaut who had a mental breakdown before his scheduled moon launch. Kane takes a special interest in Cutshaw and wants to figure out why he didn’t go to the moon, though Cutshaw is hesitant to talk about it. Reno seems suspicious of Kane, thinking that he might be crazy himself, and also notes that psychologists are at high-risk for suicide. Throughout the film, Kane indulges the various insane scenarios that the patients want, including a “Great-Escape-esque” one where the higher-ups play as Nazis and the patients play as escaping prisoners. His compatriots start to question Kane’s methods, but he won’t hear any of it, becoming wrathful at those who bring it up to him. In addition to this, he also has regular discussions with Cutshaw, which often go into topics like the existence of God, if human goodness is truly real, and whether or not there is life after death (Cutshaw even asks Kane to send proof of one if he dies first). If these weren’t enough, Kane is also having recurring nightmares about his brother, who was a former soldier that murdered civilians, earning himself the nickname “Killer Kane.” Where is all of this going? Why didn’t Cutshaw go to the moon? These answers I will leave for you to find out (though if you’ve seen The Exorcist, you might know the answer to one of them already).
So, right off the bat, I want to say that this film definitely feels like the product of a writer more than a director. William Peter Blatty, who wrote the original novels for The Exorcist and this film, directed this film himself, and it certainly shows. It’s very dialogue-focused, with the conversations of the characters being the main driving force of the film’s progression and flow. In fact, many of the scenes almost feel like they were meant more for the stage than the screen, as they mostly just entail a few characters talking or doing something in a room or having two characters talking in a room and then having another character walking in, saying their lines, and then leaving. This sort of filmmaking is tricky, since it can make the film feel stilted or that it’s not taking advantage of its medium, to the point where you’d ask, “why didn’t they just make this a play?” Now, sometimes this sort of stage/screen hybrid idea can work, and personally, I’ve found that it tends to work the best when either the writing is consistently engaging, such as in 12 Angry Men, Lifeboat, and My Dinner With Andre; or when the film combines the two sensibilities in a unique presentational way, such as in Kwaidan or even Wes Anderson’s recent Roald Dahl short films. I don’t think The Ninth Configuration quite manages this, and as a result, it can start to feel like you’re just watching a bunch of people talk in rooms without too much to make it more interesting within the scenes. It’s not that the conversations are entirely uninteresting, as they do discuss big ideas, such as the existence of God or an afterlife, whether true goodness can even exist in mankind, and even sometimes just the odd perspective of the asylum patients. However, somehow, they don’t quite hit that consistent engagement level that you’d find in the other examples I mentioned, and admittedly, they also feel rather “70s” in the way the characters go about discussing these ideas. I don’t quite know how to put this into words, it’s just something that you pick up on if you see enough older films. It’s not a terrible aspect or anything, and I don’t think this film is a horribly dated example of this idea, but I did notice it. Given how I’ve talked about it so far, you might think this film doesn’t work, but honestly, it really makes up for what it lacks. This film is great at hooking you with its odd and quirky first half, and then slowly building a sense of dread in you as it progresses. It throws you off with Shakespearean dogs, a faux doctor, and “Nammackman,” but then has several scenes of Colonel Kane slowly building with internal tension highlighted by the suspenseful score, or just scenes of him snapping at the other staff (Stacey Keach really sells these scenes, by the way; you really believe his turmoil and aggression). In addition to these, you have all the existential discussions, which when combined with the aforementioned tense elements create a uniquely unnerving atmosphere. It’s like you’re both worrying about what’s going on with the characters (especially Colonel Kane), but also worrying about the nature of life itself at the same time. In this way, it definitely feels thematically similar to The Exorcist, which also dealt with a mix of personal dread and existential dread. However, it does set itself apart from its predecessor, as The Exorcist was more about people being confronted with an actual evil being from a different plane of existence, while The Ninth Configuration is more about people grappling with the uncertainty of their own existence and the potential for good and evil in themselves. There’s a monologue that Cutshaw gives near the end of the film that sums up these existential fears pretty well and, I’ll admit, definitely hits something in me when I hear it. I don’t want to recount it here, as I’d rather you hear it for yourself, as well as seeing where the story goes (though I fear I may have implied too much already). I think that’s why I find this film so fascinating: it’s an odd mix of elements and it’s got some flow problems, but it really manages to hit you where it counts and leaves you with things to think about afterward. It’s definitely stuck with me all these years later, so I think that definitely says something. Before I wrap things up, I should explain how this film connects to The Exorcist, since it probably doesn’t seem like there is one from how I’ve described it. The main connecting factor, other than story themes, is Cutshaw, who was the astronaut that Reagan said would “die up there.” This film basically shows what became of him after that encounter. He’s not played by the same actor here as he was in the Exorcist, and interestingly, Jason Miller, who was Father Karras, plays Reno in this film, so it might not tie in entirely neatly with the film version of The Exorcist. Plus, Blatty went out of his way to not have Warner Bros involved in the film’s creation, so you probably won’t see it in any Exorcist box sets (though, ironically, Warner ended up getting the distribution rights anyway). However, while it might not “officially” be considered part of the series, it clearly has links to it story and theme-wise and I think it makes for an interesting side-entry. Honestly, I think it would be interesting to do a watch-through of the series, but replace Exorcist 2 with this film, and see how the experience changes (or you could just watch this in-between 2 and 3, that could be interesting too). Anyway, I’m starting to ramble on, so I should probably wrap things up here.
So, like I said, I think The Ninth Configuration is a fascinating film that delivers where it counts in spite of some shakiness. Given that most of the sequels/prequels to The Exorcist aren’t very well-liked, who would’ve thought a spin-off film would be so interesting? I’m glad to finally talk about this film for you folks. I had actually started writing a review for it a while ago, after I showed it to a friend of mine, but for some reason, I just couldn’t get into the groove of writing about it, so I abandoned those plans until now. I’m not sure what I’m going to cover next week, but I hope you enjoy this very unique film in the meantime. I can’t think of a clever line involving “configurations,” so I’ll just say have a good two weeks everyone, and I’ll see you all next time.