The bestseller novel by William Peter Blatty, upon which the film was based, was inspired by an exorcism of a 14-year-old boy in Maryland. The film adaptation opens with father Merrin’s (Max von Sydow) discovery of an ancient, carved demon head in an archeological dig in Northern Iraq. With no explanation of the significance of the finding, and with only a string of ominous occurrences surrounding the elderly priest, the first ten minutes of the film instill a sense of foreboding that, even if we know what happens next, opens our minds to the flood of terror.

When 12-year-old Regan (Linda Blair) falls victim to a mental ailment that an echelon of expert doctors cannot begin to understand yet alone mend, her mother (Ellen Burstyn) seeks the help of a priest. Not only is Father Karras (Jason Miller) suspicious of the possession claims by Regan’s mother because of his professional background as a psychologist, but also because of his own personal and profound crisis of faith. When possession by the devil himself is revealed, Father Karras and his ecclesiastical supervisors call on Merrin, the only priest in the Northeastern United States who’s ever performed exorcism.

Although several plot gaps remain, eleven minutes of added footage, including the unspeakably startling and graphic spider walk scene, direct a continuous stream of frightful anticipation into our subconscious, and it is through the wealth of our own suggestion that The Exorcists wields its power. The many uses of hand-held camera, especially in establishing the Washington scene, maximize our uncertainty by exposing the tangibly scattered and incomplete human perspective on powers seemingly beyond reckoning and control.

The Exorcists ultimately rides on the collective human fear of an unseen destructive force that uses an innocent child as its vessel for possession simply because such a puzzling choice would increase our despair. In our subjective capacities, we have always conjured our fears in one form or another. Regardless of any specific religious belief, it is the idea of a supreme, indestructible evil being that could only be fought with faith that compels us to twist, shake, and duck under the seats because somewhere deep down, we are quite uncertain in our own faith.

Unlike those of us in the audience who may not have a clear sense of faith, Father Karras is at least aware of his inner crisis. His extensive education in psychiatry, medicine, and counseling leaves him utterly helpless as he confronts his spiritual and emotional realities. If he can’t help people as a psychiatric therapist, how can he help them as a priest? If he can’t help people as a priest, how can he help them as a therapist? He who is a tower of strength exorcising his rage when it comes to punching boxing bags and running laps seems to fold entirely in his first real confrontation with the spiritual manifestation of evil.

Essentially, not having faith means the death of innocence as symbolized through the young girl’s torment. For Karras, the last chance for faith and salvation comes from taking the evil into his own being. He thus becomes an archetypal hero of despair who doesn't so much conquer as he recognizes his weakness. 

These universal ideas on faith and potential tragedies of its absence make the Exorcist in many ways even more effective today than almost three decades ago. After all, what could faith possibly have to do with instant gratifications of the information age? The Exorcist might not give us the answers, but it asks the questions in the most haunting way.

In a crowning achievement, the academy award winning sound, now enhanced to pin-drop sharpness, envelopes us in a world of fascinating and terrorizing detail, only in this instance, the fidelity is paid off with powerful emotional and artistic effect, not just noise and bombast, so take the effort to see the film in a theater with state of the art sound system.