Written by: Henri Bral de Boitselier, Jess Franco, James C. Garner, and Marius Lesoeur
Directed by: Jess Franco
Starring: Lina Romay, Catherine Lafferière, and Jess Franco
Like most (all?) of Jess Franco’s movies, L'éventreur de Notre-Dame carries a multitude of titles, no doubt because distributors worldwide were attempting to cash in on whatever was hot at the time. As this was released in 1975, most of its re-branded titles featured a play on exorcisms, which was misguided in a couple of ways. Obviously, the particular cycle kicked off by The Exorcist was in full-force, so capitalizing on that would seem correct; however, nothing about Exorcism (which is the name Synapse’s DVD release settled on) conjures up what you’d expect from movies centering on possessions and exorcisms.
Technically, there is a priest (Franco himself, looking like a sleazier, more insane version of Peter Lorre) at the center, but he’s not exorcising any literal demons, nor is he using the power of Christ to compel them out. Instead, this defrocked psychopath is stalking erotic stage depictions of black masses (for which he writes the material!), and he ends up gutting both the participants and the attendants. The local police are, of course, baffled--they joke that Torquemada is their killer, which isn’t entirely wrong since Father Vogel is carrying out his own personal inquisition.
Franco’s films often straddled the line between smut and art, and Exorcism is no different, but, in this case, the erotica at least serves a thematic purpose. This is not to say it isn’t as gratuitous as ever--the film opens with a droning sequence that features Lina Romay (nude and splayed on a torture rack) being flogged by another naked woman before this is finally revealed to just be one of those stage shows. You can almost feel Franco winking at the audience here--not only is this gratuitous, but it’s also a gratuitous setup to a joke. Of course, there’s more where that came from, such as an extended orgy scene that seems to last as long as the actual Spanish Inquisitions did; in fact, it drones on for so long that you’re almost on Father Vogel’s side, and you just want him to show up and start stabbing people.
This excessiveness is obviously nothing new for Franco veterans; if there is a legitimate criticism to be made about most of his films, it’s that he had no filter in terms of cutting and length. In the case of Exorcism, though, I’m somewhat reminded of the excessiveness of Salo, particularly when looking at the sea of nude, frolicking bodies; however, Franco flips that film’s theme on its head here, as Exorcism isn’t a condemnation immorality and depravity, but rather, a condemnation of misguided censure. Franco isn’t concerned with revealing the corruption of fascist power through amorality like Pasolini; instead, he’s very much siding with the perverts and the degenerates here, who are simply partaking in what Franco likely considers to be harmless smut shows.
There’s an obvious meta-fictional level here, one that’s made all the more ironic by Franco taking on the role of those who probably leveled these sorts criticism at his own work. Exorcism isn’t exactly an intentionally funny film, but it borders on some absurd satire, as Franco takes religious righteousness to its most extreme levels by having a priest tear the hearts out of sinners--but not before he watches them engage in their perverse acts from afar, of course. Hypocrisy is firmly in the crosshairs here--Father Vogel is certainly rocking one of the worst cases of Catholic guilt you’ll ever see; not only is he profiteering off of these sex shows, but he’s also (of course) revealed to be a pedophile, so there is an obvious absurdity to this guy’s judgment of the immoral. The scariest thing is how relevant all of this still is; while the religious right certainly hurled their daggers at Franco (and other artists at the time), those daggers are still being tossed, not only at art, but also towards other acts deemed immoral by a moral majority.
Exoricsm is headier than most Franco films I’ve seen; this doesn’t mean that it escapes the usual production trappings of a Franco film--it still feels like it’s been shot underwater, and its film stock seems to have been trod through the mud. Scenes do drone on and on, and you’d often mistake it for having the budget of a porno, but it’s an aesthetic that’s purely Franco. He’s one of cinema’s great trash auteurs, a guy who trades in both sleaze and art, and Exorcism is one of those times where it just all comes together brilliantly. I would be remiss to not further comment upon Lina Monay, Franco’s wife and muse who recently passed away; he always had a strange way of showing his affection for her, as she was often on the receiving end of bizarre sexual encounters (including one involving a dog in Sadomania). In Exorcism, he not only has her flogged in the opening scene, but she also becomes Father Vogel’s main object of desire, and Monay’s slightly innocent quality makes her a perfect representation of everything this disgraced priest loathes. She is innocence corrupted, and one gathers a strange infatuation on his part when he kidnaps her and keeps her tied up.
Exorcism is obviously a rough film--it’s smutty, violent, and it seems to be flimsily put together. However, it’s an unexpectedly effective slasher movie when you get right down to it--the deaths are grisly, and the killer is beyond intriguing, both of which qualify as huge wins when you’re discussing this sub-genre. That it goes a bit farther and becomes a denunciation of moral hypocrisy makes it even more impressive. Exorcism received special edition treatment from Synapse, who presents the 94 minute restored “producer’s version,” and said restoration is pretty impressive; the film’s inherent roughness is kept intact, so there are some scratches and imperfections, but I think most would agree that Franco movies wouldn’t be the same any other way. The audio presented here is a terrifically bad English dub track, and you’ll also get the first ever commentary track Franco ever recorded; additionally, you’ll find an alternate opening sequence, a still gallery, a trailer, liner notes from Tim Lucas, and the cover is even reversible. Jess Franco has made nearly 200 movies in his life, and here’s one that deserves a spot on your shelf. Buy it!
