Unable to sleep a couple of nights ago, I walked downstairs and put the TV on. It was 4:15 a.m. Normally at that hour there's little worth watching. But not on this morning. On my third channel, my eyes widened and my heart raced.
It was on. The scariest movie I've ever seen. "The Exorcist." I couldn't look away. Within minutes, my body tingled. A movie first released in 1973 hadn't lost any of its power.
I should have gone back to bed. But I didn't. I watched the final 90 minutes in rapt fascination, unable to change the station, unable to turn away. I've always been a horror movie fan. For years, my friend Dan Phelps and I would attend Tuesday matinees and the movie choice was almost always horror.
But "The Exorcist" is the gold standard by which all horror movies should be judged. There's no denying its power over me because the first time I watched it I was just a kid. The year was 1976 and I was 11 years old. I watched it over my friend Paul Meehan's house. When the movie was over, it was about 10 p.m. I lived about 400 yards from Paul's house. Freaked out by what I had just witnessed, I sprinted down London Street, across Gorham Street and then took a right on Moore Street.
To get home I had to run up a hill. But I don't remember any hills. I just remember running like Usain Bolt. I made it home in about 11.1 seconds. I was sweating, but not from sprinting.
"Halloween," "Poltergeist," "A Nightmare on Elm Street" and "The Omen" are classics. More recently, "The Conjuring" movies are terrific.
But nothing compares to "The Exorcist." When Linda Blair's head turns completely around during her exorcism, a frightened 55-year-old man felt just like an 11-year-old boy.
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