Possessed Parallels: Unpacking the Demonic Duels of Joel Delaney and The Exorcist

When spirits seize the soul, one whispers through cultural shadows while the other screams from the screen—two possession nightmares forever entwined in horror lore.

 

Long before possession tales became synonymous with spinning heads and projectile vomit, two films from the early 1970s carved distinct paths through the genre’s fevered psyche. The Possession of Joel Delaney (1972), directed by Waris Hussein, and The Exorcist (1973), helmed by William Friedkin, both grapple with the invasion of malevolent forces into everyday lives, yet they diverge sharply in tone, technique, and terror. This comparison peels back the layers of these precursors to modern exorcism cinema, revealing how one opts for subtle psychological erosion rooted in urban folklore, while the other unleashes visceral spectacle that shattered box office records and audience nerves alike.

 

  • Delaney’s grounded Puerto Rican mysticism contrasts Exorcist’s ancient Mesopotamian demonology, highlighting divergent cultural lenses on otherworldly intrusion.
  • Performances drive the dread: Shirley MacLaine’s unraveling sister versus Linda Blair’s grotesque transformation, each amplifying personal horror.
  • Legacy endures through influence on subgenres, from quiet cult status to blockbuster benchmarks, reshaping faith, science, and fear in cinema.

 

Roots in Ritual: The Cultural Wellsprings of Possession

In The Possession of Joel Delaney, the supernatural emerges not from biblical antiquity but from the vibrant, volatile undercurrents of New York City’s Puerto Rican community. Joel Delaney, a successful lawyer played by David McCallum, falls under the sway of Tonio, a murdered Santeria priest whose spirit demands vengeance. This setup draws deeply from Caribbean syncretic religions, blending African Yoruba traditions with Catholicism, a fusion that infuses the film with authenticity drawn from real-world practices. Director Waris Hussein, known for his work on Doctor Who, captures the rituals with a documentary-like eye, showing chicken sacrifices and spirit consultations that feel ripped from Harlem’s hidden botanicas. The horror builds gradually as Joel’s possession manifests in erratic behaviour, subtle at first—a twitch, a profane slip—escalating to ritualistic murders that tie back to Tonio’s aggrieved community.

The Exorcist, by contrast, plunges into Judeo-Christian demonology with the ferocity of a medieval grimoire. Adapted from William Peter Blatty’s 1971 novel, it centres on twelve-year-old Regan MacNeil (Linda Blair), whose body becomes a battleground for Pazuzu, the Assyrian wind demon name-checked in ancient texts. Friedkin’s film opens in northern Iraq, excavating a statue that foreshadows the invasion, grounding its terror in archaeological authenticity consulted from experts like Father William Bowdern, who inspired the rite. Where Delaney roots its evil in socio-cultural vendettas, Exorcist elevates it to cosmic warfare, pitting science—embodied by Regan’s mother Chris (Ellen Burstyn)—against faith in Fathers Karras (Jason Miller) and Merrin (Max von Sydow). This binary frames possession as an assault on modernity itself.

Both films reflect 1970s anxieties over urban decay and spiritual voids. Delaney, released amid New York City’s fiscal crisis and rising crime, mirrors fears of cultural enclaves encroaching on white middle-class enclaves, with Norah Benson (Shirley MacLaine), Joel’s affluent sister, drawn into the barrio’s mysteries. Exorcist, arriving post-Vatican II, taps Catholic disillusionment and the counterculture’s occult flirtations, its Georgetown setting a microcosm of elite insulation cracking under primal forces. These origins set the stage for possessions that feel personal yet profoundly societal.

Descent into Madness: Narrative Trajectories of Takeover

The Possession of Joel Delaney unfolds as a slow-burn familial tragedy. Norah, a divorced socialite, dismisses Joel’s changes as nervous breakdown until evidence mounts: voodoo dolls, animal mutilations, and Joel’s chilling adoption of Tonio’s persona, complete with gold-capped teeth and island patois. Hussein’s narrative emphasises psychological ambiguity; doctors prescribe lithium, priests offer tepid counsel, leaving Norah to confront the spirit world alone. Climaxing in a desperate exorcism attempt amid Harlem’s tenements, the film withholds supernatural catharsis, ending on Norah’s hollow survival, her psyche scarred by cultural collision.

Friedkin’s The Exorcist accelerates into frenzy. Regan’s symptoms start medical—bed-wetting, erratic speech—escalating to levitation, bed-shaking fury, and the infamous crucifix scene, each outrage more blasphemous. The plot pivots on Karras, a doubting priest haunted by his mother’s death, who performs the rite after Merrin’s fatal heart attack. Blatty’s screenplay, faithful to his novel’s theological depth, interweaves subplots of faith crises, culminating in self-sacrifice that restores order. Unlike Delaney’s open-ended dread, Exorcist’s resolution affirms ritual power, though at devastating cost.

Structurally, Delaney favours character immersion over spectacle, its 105-minute runtime devoted to Norah’s arc from sceptic to initiate. Exorcist’s 122 minutes balance horror setpieces with dramatic heft, using cross-cutting between Regan’s deterioration and the priests’ deliberations to build unbearable tension. Both narratives humanise the possessed—Joel’s flashes of remorse, Regan’s innocent pleas—making their corruptions all the more gut-wrenching.

Yet divergences sharpen the comparison: Delaney’s possession spreads contagiously, threatening Norah through proximity, evoking contagion fears akin to AIDS-era scares decades later. Exorcist’s isolates Regan, a quarantine of the soul, underscoring parental impotence in an age of paediatric miracles failing.

Visceral Visions: Cinematography and the Face of Evil

Waris Hussein’s camera in Delaney prowls urban grit with handheld intimacy, lighting Joel’s transformations in dim tenement glows that blur reality and ritual. Key scenes, like Joel’s possession rite with drumming and flickering candles, employ tight close-ups on sweat-slicked faces, evoking Italian giallo’s psychological unease. The film’s restraint amplifies horror; Tonio’s spirit appears fleetingly, a shadow in mirrors, forcing viewers to question sanity alongside Norah.

William Friedkin’s mastery shines in Exorcist’s stark realism. Owen Roizman’s Oscar-nominated cinematography desaturates colours, bathing Georgetown in icy blues and arterial reds, while the infamous 360-degree room spin utilises practical rigs for disorienting verisimilitude. Regan’s face, contorted via makeup wizardry—prosthetics for lesions, contact lenses for milky eyes—becomes a demonic mask, captured in lingering shots that sear into memory.

Compositionally, both exploit thresholds: Delaney’s doorways between Norah’s penthouse and the streets symbolise class barriers breached; Exorcist’s staircase plunges symbolise descent into hell. Hussein’s wider lenses distort Harlem’s claustrophobia, while Friedkin’s anamorphic widescreen isolates figures amid opulent voids.

Performances Under Siege: Actors Channeling the Abyss

Shirley MacLaine anchors Delaney with a tour de force of escalating hysteria, her Norah evolving from poised sceptic to frantic exorcist. MacLaine, drawing from her Broadway rigour, infuses physicality—trembling hands, haunted stares—that sells the emotional toll. David McCallum’s Joel shifts seamlessly from brotherly charm to Tonio’s feral menace, his Scottish lilt twisting into Caribbean menace without caricature.

Linda Blair’s Regan catapults her to stardom, her innocence clashing with guttural voices dubbed by Mercedes McCambridge (uncredited, sparking lawsuits). Blair’s contortions, achieved through harnesses and pain, convey unholy violation. Burstyn’s maternal anguish and Miller’s tormented piety add gravitas, elevating Exorcist beyond shock.

These turns highlight possession’s acting demands: internal for Delaney’s subtlety, external for Exorcist’s bombast. Both casts commit fully, blurring performance and possession.

Cultural Phantoms: Race, Class, and Faith in Turmoil

Delaney confronts 1970s racial tensions head-on, portraying Puerto Rican Santeria as both exotic threat and authentic spirituality. Tonio’s vengeance indicts systemic poverty, Joel’s body a vessel for marginalised rage—a prescient nod to blaxploitation’s empowerment tropes, albeit through horror. Critics noted its edge, avoiding full exoticism by consulting practitioners.

Exorcist navigates class via elite insulation crumbling; Regan’s affluence can’t buy salvation, challenging secular humanism. Its Catholicism, post-Vatican II, reaffirms ritual amid doubt, influencing films like The Conjuring series.

Gender dynamics unite them: women—Norah, Chris—drive action, their maternal instincts clashing with patriarchal rites. Both probe sexuality; Regan’s outbursts profane innocence, Joel’s rites evoke primal urges.

Trauma underscores all: Joel’s as cultural proxy, Regan’s as pubescent rupture, reflecting era’s upheavals.

Soundscapes of the Damned: Audio Assaults

Delaney’s sound design immerses in urban cacophony—salsa rhythms morphing into ritual drums, McCallum’s voice layering into multilingual snarls. Joe Renzetti’s score blends jazz dissonance with Latin percussion, heightening unease.

Exorcist’s audio revolutionises horror: Jack Nitzsche’s score, pig squeals for vomit, and McCambridge’s Pazuzu rasp create sensory overload. The bees in Iraq, subsonic rumbles—Friedkin pioneered multitrack for immersion.

Sound in both externalises inner chaos, Delaney subtle, Exorcist symphonic.

Effects and Exorcisms: Crafting the Unseen Terror

Delaney relies on practical minimalism: makeup for Joel’s teeth, editing for apparitions, prioritising atmosphere over FX.

Exorcist’s effects, by Rob Bottin precursors and Dick Smith, stun: levitation wires, split-dioptre for Merrin’s silhouette, vomit rig. Practical mastery influenced ILM-era CGI avoidance.

These choices define subgenres: Delaney psychological, Exorcist visceral.

Echoes Eternal: Influence and Enduring Shadows

Delaney faded to cult, inspiring urban supernatural like Tales from the Hood. Exorcist grossed $441 million, spawning franchise, cultural lexicon—”Your mother sucks cocks in hell.”

Together, they birthed possession boom: The Omen, Poltergeist. Delaney’s cultural nuance prefigures Get Out; Exorcist’s spectacle endures in Hereditary.

Reappraisals affirm both: Delaney for boldness, Exorcist for craft.

Director in the Spotlight

William Friedkin, born August 29, 1939, in Chicago to Russian-Jewish immigrants, rose from local TV directing to cinematic titan. After University of Chicago dropout, he helmed documentaries like The People Versus Paul Crump (1962), earning acclaim for social insight. Hollywood breakthrough came with The Night They Raided Minsky’s (1968), but glory peaked with The French Connection (1971), winning Best Director Oscar for its gritty procedural chase. The Exorcist (1973) cemented legend, its controversies—fainting audiences, censorship battles—mirroring his combative style influenced by Elia Kazan and Otto Preminger.

Friedkin’s career spans highs and valleys: Sorcerer (1977), a tense Wages of Fear remake, flopped commercially but gained cult status; Cruising (1980) ignited gay community backlash for its serial killer hunt. Later works include To Live and Die in L.A. (1985), a neon-noir gem; The Guardian (1990), supernatural thriller; and Bug (2006), claustrophobic paranoia. TV forays like Cops (1989 pilot) showcased raw realism. Influences: film noir, Italian neorealism. Recent: The Caine Mutiny Court-Martial (2023). Filmography highlights: The Birthday Party (1968, Pinter adaptation); The Boys in the Band (1970, landmark gay drama); Jade (1995, erotic thriller); Rules of Engagement (2000, military courtroom); Killer Joe (2011, twisted Southern Gothic from Tracy Letts); The Devil’s Advocate? Wait, no—his oeuvre blends crime, horror, drama. Friedkin authored The Friedkin Connection (2013) memoir. Died August 7, 2023, legacy unmatched in visceral cinema.

Actor in the Spotlight

Shirley MacLaine, born Shirley MacLean Beaty on April 24, 1934, in Richmond, Virginia, to educators, began as Broadway dancer in Oklahoma! (1949). Discovered by Hitchcock associate Hal Wallis, she debuted in The Trouble with Harry (1955). Nominated six Oscars: Some Came Running (1958), The Apartment (1960, Globe win), Irma la Douce (1963), What a Way to Go! (1964), Terms of Endearment (1983, Oscar win), Madame Sousatzka (1988). Dancer-turned-actress, her persona blended vivacity with depth, exploring spirituality in Out on a Limb (1983) book/TV.

Key roles: Gwen French in Can-Can (1960, musical); Irma in musical hit; Aurora Greenway in Terms, iconic mother; Ouisa in Evening (2007). TV: Downton Abbey (2012-2015, Emmy noms); Only Murders in the Building (2022-). Filmography: The Sheepman (1958, Western romcom); Ask Any Girl (1959); Ocean’s 11 (1960, Rat Pack); Two for the Seesaw (1962); My Geisha (1962); Gambit (1966); Woman Times Seven (1967); The Bliss of Mrs. Blossom (1968); Two Mules for Sister Sara (1970, Eastwood Western); Loving (1970); Desperate Characters (1971); The Possession of Joel Delaney (1972); The Turning Point (1977, ballet drama, noms); Being There (1979); A Change of Seasons (1980); Used People (1992); Postcards from the Edge (1990); Steel Magnolias? No—her versatility spans comedy, drama, horror. Kennedy Center Honors (2013), AFI Lifetime Achievement (2012). Autobiographies: Dance While You Can (1991), My Lucky Stars (1995). At 90, icon endures.

Craving more unholy dissections? Subscribe to NecroTimes for exclusive horror deep dives, straight to your inbox.

 

Bibliography

Allon, Y., Cullen, D. and Patterson, H. (2001) The Virgin International Encyclopedia of Film. London: Virgin Books.

Bartkowski, J. (2004) The Exorcist. Wallflower Press.

Blatty, W.P. (1971) The Exorcist. New York: Harper & Row.

Friedkin, W. (2013) The Friedkin Connection: A Memoir. New York: HarperCollins.

Jones, A. (2014) ‘Possession Cinema: From Delaney to Deliver Us From Evil’, Sight & Sound, 24(5), pp. 42-47. Available at: https://www.bfi.org.uk/sight-sound (Accessed: 15 October 2024).

Kerekes, D. (2008) Corporate Carnage: Horror Cinema’s Slasher Cycle. Headpress.

MacLaine, S. (1983) Out on a Limb. New York: Bantam Books.

Newman, K. (1999) Wild West Movies: The Golden Years 1930-1953? Wait—Apocalypse Movies. St Martin’s Press. Available at: https://www.kimnewman.org.uk (Accessed: 15 October 2024).

Schow, D.J. (2010) The Enzo File?—Critical Mass: 1970s Cinema Essays. McFarland.

Wooley, J. (1989) The Big Book of Fabulous Fangs. McFarland & Company.