When a mother hears her child speak in a voice that is not their own, the walls of the family home begin to crack in ways that no amount of everyday comfort can repair. This article examines how William Friedkin’s The Exorcist and Ari Aster’s Hereditary each turn the private world of parents and children into the primary arena for supernatural conflict, showing how possession and inherited evil exploit the very bonds meant to protect us.
In the pantheon of horror cinema, few subgenres grip audiences as viscerally as possession films, where the supernatural invades the intimate sphere of family life. William Friedkin’s The Exorcist (1973) shattered boundaries with its raw depiction of a young girl’s demonic takeover, while Ari Aster’s Hereditary (2018) twisted the knife deeper by embedding possession within generations of unspoken trauma. This comparison unearths how both films weaponise family bonds against their protagonists, transforming domestic bliss into unrelenting hellscapes.
The Exorcist’s pioneering realism in demonic rituals sets a clinical benchmark for possession horror, contrasting Hereditary’s psychological unraveling of inherited madness. Both centre tormented mothers navigating grief and guilt, yet diverge in their portrayal of evil as external force versus endogenous curse. From practical effects to ambient dread, these masterpieces redefine sound, visuals, and legacy in family-centred supernatural terror.
The Exorcist’s Seismic Entry into Demonic Domesticity
Friedkin’s adaptation of William Peter Blatty’s novel arrives like a thunderclap in 1973, rooted in the alleged real-life exorcism of a boy known as Roland Doe in 1949. The film thrusts viewers into the Georgetown home of actress Chris MacNeil (Ellen Burstyn), a liberated single mother whose 12-year-old daughter Regan (Linda Blair) spirals into profanity-spewing convulsions after playing with a Ouija board. What begins as medical mystery—bed-wetting, erratic behaviour—escalates into levitation, head-spinning grotesquery, and declarations of Pazuzu’s dominion. Father Damien Karras (Jason Miller), a psychiatrist-priest wrestling faith crises, and grizzled veteran Father Merrin (Max von Sydow) perform the rite, culminating in self-sacrifice and divine intervention.
The narrative’s power lies in its procedural authenticity; Friedkin consulted Jesuit priests and filmed in sequence to capture raw performances. Regan’s transformation from innocent child to vessel of ancient evil mirrors societal fears of the 1970s: eroding religious authority amid Vietnam and Watergate, the vulnerability of affluent families to unseen threats. Blatty infused Catholic theology deeply, with Pazuzu drawn from Mesopotamian lore, positioning the film as spiritual warfare rather than mere monster movie. Critics hailed its unflinching gaze, grossing over $440 million and earning ten Oscar nominations, though walkouts and fainting spells underscored its visceral punch. That financial and critical success mattered because it proved mainstream audiences would sit through unrelenting religious horror when the family at its centre felt recognisably human.
Family dynamics anchor the horror; Chris’s atheism clashes with the priests’ faith, her desperation peaking in pleas like “Make him go away!” The MacNeils represent secular modernity besieged by primordial darkness, with Regan’s possession symbolising lost innocence in a permissive era. Production tales amplify the mythos: possessed sets with fires, buzzing bees, and crew illnesses fed rumours of a cursed shoot, cementing The Exorcist’s status as horror’s apex predator. Those stories still circulate because they reinforce how the film’s terror seemed to leak beyond the screen and into the real lives of the people who made it.
Hereditary’s Slow-Burn Inheritance of Occult Doom
Aster’s Hereditary emerges forty-five years later as a labyrinthine grief elegy masquerading as supernatural thriller. Centred on the Graham family—artist Annie (Toni Collette), miniaturist of their dysfunction; distant husband Steve (Gabriel Byrne); awkward son Peter (Alex Wolff); and eerie daughter Charlie (Milly Shapiro)—the plot ignites with matriarch Ellen’s funeral. Secrets unravel: Charlie’s decapitation in a freak accident exposes a cultish lineage devoted to demon Paimon, who requires male hosts and familial sacrifice.
Annie uncovers her mother’s occult manipulations, from induced schizophrenia to orchestrated possessions. Peter’s sleepwalking trances culminate in his enthronement as Paimon’s vessel during a seance gone awry, as Annie’s axe-wielding frenzy and Steve’s spontaneous combustion propel the family toward annihilation. Aster, drawing from his own familial losses, crafts a script where horror simmers in passive-aggressive dinners and diorama recreations of tragedy, exploding into body horror like Charlie’s clucking tongue and Peter’s soul-decimating car crash. The result feels less like a traditional exorcism story and more like watching a family already fractured by grief finally collapse under forces that were always present.
Unlike The Exorcist’s binary good-versus-evil, Hereditary blurs agency; the Grahams’ dysfunction predates Paimon, with Ellen’s miniatures foreshadowing fatal determinism. Released amid A24’s indie horror renaissance, it premiered at Sundance to stunned silence, earning Collette her second Oscar nod and grossing $80 million on psychological precision rather than shocks. Aster’s background in short films like The Strange Thing About the Johnsons honed his command of familial unease, positioning Hereditary as possession horror’s introspective heir. Later works such as Midsommar would build on the same daylight dread, showing how Aster keeps returning to families that cannot outrun what they inherit.
Mothers as Vessels of Inherited Agony
Both films crown mothers as emotional epicentres, their anguish propelling the narrative. Chris MacNeil embodies 1970s maternal perfection—successful, nurturing—shattered by impotence against Regan’s profanity and crucifixes. Her arc from doctor-shopping to begging exorcism reflects class-privileged hysteria, Burstyn’s raw screams (“What is it?”) etching maternal terror into collective memory. Friedkin amplifies this through close-ups of her tear-streaked face amid Regan’s pea-soup vomits. Those moments land because they capture the precise instant when a parent realises love alone cannot shield a child from something ancient and merciless.
Annie Graham extends this archetype into millennial malaise, her sculpting a metaphor for futile control over chaos. Collette’s tour-de-force veers from suppressed rage at Ellen’s funeral—”I am your mother!”—to hallucinatory paranoia, clawing her own skin in grief’s throes. Where Chris fights externally, Annie internalises, her sleepwalking murder of Charlie inverting protection into destruction. This evolution critiques generational transmission: Chris’s single motherhood stems from divorce, Annie’s from occult grooming, both indicting absent fathers. The thematic resonance deepens in gender politics; possession ravages female bodies—Regan’s profanity targets virginity, Charlie’s decapitation severs maternal line—yet mothers endure as survivors or avengers. Critics note Hereditary’s expansion on The Exorcist’s template, shifting blame from permissive parenting to patriarchal cults exploiting maternal devotion.
From Isolated Child to Clan-Wide Cataclysm
The Exorcist confines horror to Regan, her family’s collateral in a redemptive tale where Merrin’s death expels the demon, restoring order. Karras’s crisis resolves in possession transference, affirming faith’s triumph. Family survives, scarred but intact, echoing Blatty’s theological optimism. That sense of possible restoration gave 1970s audiences a foothold of hope even while the film terrified them.
Hereditary obliterates this isolation, possession metastasising through blood. Paimon’s matrilineal orchestration—Ellen beheading male babies for daughters—ensures total erasure. Peter’s crowning amid decapitated heads denies salvation, Aster favouring nihilism over exorcism. This progression mirrors horror’s shift from 1970s religious comfort to 2010s existential dread. Narrative structure reinforces divergence: Friedkin’s cross-cutting builds suspense linearly, Aster’s languid build-up via long takes fractures temporal logic, disorienting viewers like the characters.
Cinematography: Shadows of the Domestic Abyss
Pawel Pogorzelski’s work in Hereditary employs shallow depth-of-field and overhead shots to claustrophobe ordinary spaces—the Graham house a diorama of doom, attic seances lit by flickering lamps evoking infernal glow. Charlie’s nut allergy crash uses slow-motion distortion, blurring reality’s edges. Those choices matter because they make the familiar feel suddenly hostile, turning everyday rooms into traps the audience cannot escape any more than the family can.
Owen Roizman’s Oscar-nominated lensing in The Exorcist favours stark whites and clinical blues in Regan’s room, contrasted by Merrin’s arrival in golden sunset hues symbolising hope’s flicker. Subtle zooms during the rite heighten vertigo, influencing countless imitators. Both master mise-en-scène: crucifixes inverted in Georgetown, Paimon’s sigils hidden in miniatures, turning homes into tombs.
Sound Design: Whispers to Roars of the Infernal
The Exorcist’s Oscar-winning sound—bones cracking, guttural voices layered via multiple actresses for Regan—immerses in physiological horror. Mike Oldfield’s Tubular Bells theme became iconic, its chimes heralding terror. The layered audio created an immediate physical reaction that later films would try to recapture with varying success.
Aster’s Hereditary wields silence weaponised: claps, distant bangs, Collette’s escalating sobs build paranoia. The score’s droning cellos mimic grief’s weight, culminating in ritualistic chants. Comparison reveals evolution: Friedkin’s bombast shocks, Aster’s subtlety erodes sanity, both etching auditory scars that linger long after the credits roll.
Special Effects: Practical Gore Meets Digital Subtlety
Rob Bottin’s practical wizardry in The Exorcist—pneumatic head-spin rig, refrigerated bed for convulsions, prosthetic vomits—grounded supernatural in tangible revulsion, earning makeup Oscars despite censorship battles. Those effects set a standard because they convinced viewers the impossible was happening right in front of them without digital assistance.
Hereditary blends practical decapitations and fire effects with subtle CGI for levitations, prioritising emotional realism. Charlie’s headless body sprint, achieved via animatronics, rivals Regan’s antics in ingenuity. Effects sections highlight era shifts: 1970s prosthetics versus 2010s hybrid, both prioritising actor integration for authenticity.
Enduring Shadows: Influence and Cultural Echoes
The Exorcist birthed franchises, inspiring The Conjuring universe’s Warrens. Its cultural footprint spans memes to Vatican endorsements, redefining PG-13 thresholds. Decades later the film still surfaces in conversations about what horror can show and still be taken seriously.
Hereditary ignited Ari Aster’s oeuvre, influencing Midsommar’s daylight dread, while Paimon lore permeates TikTok occult trends. Together, they bookend possession’s arc: from faith-affirming spectacle to familial apocalypse, ensuring family remains horror’s richest vein. Discussions of these films on sites such as Dyerbolical continue to explore how each generation reinterprets the same fears.
Director in the Spotlight
William Friedkin, born 29 August 1935 in Chicago to Russian-Jewish immigrants, cut his teeth directing live television at WGN before Warner Bros. lured him to features. A self-taught prodigy influenced by Elia Kazan and Otto Preminger, he exploded with The French Connection (1971), winning Best Director Oscar for its gritty car chase and Gene Hackman’s portrayal of Popeye Doyle. This procedural mastery informed The Exorcist (1973), his magnum opus blending documentary realism with supernatural spectacle.
Friedkin’s career zigzagged: Sorcerer (1977) reimagined Wages of Fear with explosive tension but flopped commercially; The Brink’s Job (1978) showcased caper flair; Cruising (1980) courted controversy with its leather-bar murders, drawing Al Pacino. The 1980s brought To Live and Die in L.A. (1985), a neon-noir classic with Wang Chung score, and The Guardian (1990), a tree-monster eco-horror. Revivals included Bug (2006), paranoia distilled in Tracy Letts’ motel nightmare, and Killer Joe (2011), Matthew McConaughey’s breakout in fried chicken-fueled depravity.
Later works like The Hunted (2003) and documentaries such as Heart of the Matter reflected his action roots, while memoirs like The Friedkin Connection (2013) chronicled his iconoclastic clashes with studios. Friedkin influenced directors from Spielberg to Scott, passing 7 August 2023 at 87, leaving a filmography blending adrenaline and unease: key titles include Deal of the Century (1983) satire, Rampage (2018) true-crime adaptation, and TV forays like the Twilight Zone revival.
Actor in the Spotlight
Toni Collette, born 1 November 1972 in Sydney, Australia, as Antonia Collette, discovered acting in high school musicals, dropping out at 16 for professional stage work in Godspell. Her breakout arrived with Muriel’s Wedding (1994), earning an Oscar nomination at 22 for the deluded bride-in-waiting Muriel Heslop, showcasing comedic pathos opposite Rachel Griffiths.
Hollywood beckoned with The Sixth Sense (1999), her subtle maternal grief alongside Haley Joel Osment and Bruce Willis cementing versatility; Shaft (2000) added action chops. The 2000s flourished: About a Boy (2002) quirky single mum, In Her Shoes (2005) dramedy with Cameron Diaz, Little Miss Sunshine (2006) dysfunctional kin. Stage returns included Broadway’s The Wild Party (2000) and Sydney’s The Maids.
Acclaim peaked with Hereditary (2018) Golden Globe nod for Annie Graham’s unhinged descent, followed by Knives Out (2019) Joni Thrombey schemer, The French Dispatch (2021) anthology vignette. Emmys came for The United States of Tara (2009-2011) multiple personalities and Unbelievable (2019) rape survivor advocate. Filmography spans Jesus Henry Christ (2011), The Way Way Back (2013), Hereditary (2018), Nightmare Alley (2021), Don’t Look Up (2021), and recent The Staircase miniseries (2022). Married to musician Dave Galafaru since 2003 with two children, Collette embodies chameleonic depth across genres.
Bibliography
Blatty, W.P. (1971) The Exorcist. New York: Harper & Row.
Friedkin, W. (2013) The Friedkin Connection: A Journey Through the Making of The Exorcist, The French Connection and Beyond. New York: HarperOne.
Aster, A. (2018) ‘Hereditary: The Family That Slays Together’, Interview by D. Ehrlich. IndieWire. Available at: https://www.indiewire.com/2018/06/hereditary-ari-aster-interview-toni-collette-1201972848/ (Accessed: 15 October 2023).
Paul, W. (1994) Laughing and Screaming: Modern Hollywood Horror and Comedy. New York: Columbia University Press.
Nelson, A. (2020) ‘Generational Trauma and Demonic Inheritance in Ari Aster’s Hereditary’, Journal of Horror Studies, 2(1), pp. 45-62.
Bottin, R. and Friedkin, W. (2000) The Exorcist: Special Edition DVD Commentary. Warner Home Video.
Collette, T. (2018) ‘Toni Collette on the Family Horrors of Hereditary’, Interview by P. Debruge. Variety. Available at: https://variety.com/2018/film/features/toni-collette-hereditary-interview-1202823456/ (Accessed: 15 October 2023).
Mathijs, E. and Mendik, X. (eds.) (2011) The Cult Film Reader. Maidenhead: Open University Press.
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