Paul Tremblay’s a Head Full of Ghosts draws a lot of imagery and description of possession from William Friedkin’s 1973 The Exorcist. This is not surprising in any way given how prolific the movie is in the horror genre and especially that of possession-based movies. In this post, I am going to explore the relationship between the two specifically regarding the narratives and the effects they have upon inflicting horror.

The key difference in A Head Full of Ghosts is that there is an immediate family surrounding Marjorie and the story is told from her sister Merry’s point of view. This establishment of a family and specific use of Merry as the narrator produces what feels like a much more personal story. As readers we are inside her thoughts and her childhood memories so everything, we perceive of Marjorie’s situation is from the perspective of a scared little girl deeply empathetic to her older sister. In my opinion, this grounds the story and makes it more relatable to the audience and as such helps to make it more horrific and terrifying. We are not terrified simply due to the visual description itself but having the commentary of Merry upon the events take it to the whole other level making it scarier.

On the other side, the horror from The Exorcist appears to be built upon sheer grotesqueness and graphic imagery. The only true support system that poor Regan has is her mother Chris who, while excellently played by Ellen Burstyn, is more difficult to sympathize with and is less of a grounding mechanism. In addition to keeping things grounded and relatable, which I assert to be the key between an audience and a piece of work, the special effects do not do horror any justice. While the graphics are very dark and scary in terms of what they are depicting, they are also out of this world and something that is simply not grounded. Sometimes the effects do not hold up well and it is at these moments when the viewer is taken out and less horrified.

A Head Full of Ghosts was able to cram a whole lot of theoretical concepts about the male gaze into one paragraph of text on “Karen’s” blog post on page 95. Laura Mulvey, author of “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema,” believes that there is “erotic pleasure in looking at another person as object,” which can begin to explain much of the filmic choices regarding Regan’s treatment in The Exorcist. As soon as Regan starts exhibiting symptoms, she is continually in rooms where she is surrounded by men while sedated or tied down. In one scene in the hospital, Regan’s hospital gown is pulled down to her chest, emphasizing her pubescent state as she is experimented on by male doctors. There is another shot of her being sedated by male doctors and a shot fixes the audience’s gaze upon them as if we were looking from Regan’s point of view and we see her being crowded and overwhelmed by men as she cries out for her mother. We see Regan powerless as men hold her down, emphasizing how both they and the camera consider her an object.

Mulvey expands on this: “there are three different looks associated with cinema: that of the camera as it records the pro-filmic event, that of the audience as it watches the final product, and that of the characters at each other within the screen illusion.” The men on screen, the camera, and then we the audience all participate in objectifying Regan, which is what Nancy accuses viewers of The Possession of doing as well. When the person watching the screen is a woman, she still partakes in the male gaze, but internalizes the cinematic message of how men view women, further objectifying herself. As John Berger says, “men dream of women, women dream of themselves being dreamt of.”

While the in-text narrator is a woman, the author of the novel is a man, writing about how “Nancy” perceives the male gaze which depicted her sister. Similar to Regan masturbating with a cross, Marjorie’s masturbation scene (both in the novel and in the description of the show turn “the represented figure itself into a fetish so that it becomes reassuring rather than dangerous” (Mulvey). How does Tremblay’s self-awareness of the tropes surrounding (young) female sexuality mitigate the fact that these scenes still invoke the anxieties our society feels towards girls who are not asexual beings?

There are probably hundreds of articles and think pieces about how The Exorcist functions as screen onto which we project our fears of female sexuality, yet the ending, as Nancy notes, is inherently conservative. Two white men save Regan, and there are other horror films that deal with female sexuality as monstrosity in ways which does not necessarily reinforce the image of white men as savior and conversion therapist (Jennifer’s Body, Ginger Snaps, The Craft). I hope Tremblay’s awareness of these tropes mean that this novel will not end similarly to The Exorcist.

While reading Nancy’s blog post, I was struck by Tremblay’s choice to write about a television show, rather than either make one or write the novel without it. There is an inherent loss when writing about the cinema, just as there is an inherent loss when filming the written. As Edward Branigan reminds us: “the analyst must recognize that the very fact of talking about narration requires re-presentation of it by verbal or other means which my capture only some of its features,” therefore diluting the intended effect. Perhaps what matters more is Nancy’s reaction to the show—if we want the visual, we should watch The Exorcist.

Most people would consider The Exorcist to be a “classic” horror movie due to its immense popularity and revered place in the horror film canon, having influenced countless other stories and texts since then, but what struck me after watching this movie was its relevance to Isabel Pinedo’s article on postmodernism and the contemporary horror film. The Exorcist seems to me like an example of a film that blends together both classical and postmodern elements of the horror genre, at least from my understanding of Pinedo’s article on the subject.

In The Exorcist we do see some characteristics of the classical horror genre, including for example the clear distinction between good and evil. We (the viewers) know that the demon possessing Regan is evil and that Regan’s mother Chris, Father Karras, and Father Merrin are good. Furthermore, the film ends with Regan having been saved from the demon and therefore good has triumphed over evil (but the Exorcist franchise continues in various sequel and prequel films, so it could be argued that the ending to this film is ambiguous as well).

Conversely, The Exorcist also displays some postmodern elements of the horror genre. For example, it is the priests, not the psychiatrists or men of science, who ultimately save Regan. Additionally, the plot of possession and exorcism is irrational and is presented within the film itself as being irrational (even to Father Karras). Finally, the setup of the story presents an example of a disruption of the everyday suburban life that Chris and Regan enjoy prior to the possession, shown at the start of the film.

The Exorcist provides an interesting look at the classical and postmodern horror genres Pinedo outlines in her article, but ultimately it seems to be its own unique creature, not able to fit squarely into either category. And maybe this is an aspect of what has allowed the film to last so long in our cultural imagination—but that could just be due to the 360-degree head turns and green vomit, too.

Watching The Exorcist and reading A Head Full of Ghosts, I’ve been trying to apply Isabel Pinedo’s frame for postmodern horror. I’ve come to the conclusion that The Exorcist doesn’t quite fit, retaining more elements of classic horror. Because A Head Full of Ghosts was published so recently, and because of the genre-mashup we already see within the plot in Merry’s life (her life is literally a horror/reality TV show), I think it should fit Pinedo’s qualifications more closely. So, I have some predictions about A Head Full of Ghosts.

First, I want to explain what about The Exorcist departs from Pinedo’s standards for postmodern horror. I think it comes down to two points she identifies the genre fulfilling: the triumph of irrationality and the lack of narrative closure. While The Exorcist follows a system of logic internal to the film (one in which demons are a believable ailment and exorcism a viable treatment), I argue that the protagonists are logical nevertheless. Regan’s mother, when exploring treatment for her, starts with psychiatrist after psychiatrist. When that doesn’t work, she seeks the help of a priest (the next logical step). During the exorcism, even, Father Merrin proceeds calmly through his prayers, performing a pre-planned ritual that should arrive at the desired outcome of dismissing the demon. Though it is Father Karras’ invitation of the demon into his own soul that rids Regan of the burden for good, he’s only in the room because of mom’s and Father Merrin’s logical procession, so logic is not abhorred in The Exorcist by a long shot.

The second departure from the postmodern frame is in the conclusion. Though I’m pretty sure The Exorcist does get a sequel, the plot of the first movie reaches narrative closure. Regan is freed from her demon, who exits into Father Karras, who kills himself. The demon is gone along with him. Regan and her mother move away to start anew, and there is no suggestion in the closing scenes of any loose ends. Here is my prediction for A Head Full of Ghosts: we will not see such narrative closure as we’ve seen in The Exorcist.

The adult blogger Merry has herself pointed out the many similarities between her sister’s affliction and Regan’s, so where will the two girls’ plots diverge? Not with the exorcism … we know the reality show centers around the exorcism of Marjorie’s demon, right? So I say the divergence will be with the happy ending, and I think we’ll get to witness that divergence through Merry. She’s already told us she has trouble differentiating her own memories from the populace’s collective conception of her early life via the TV show. I think this is where the lack of narrative closure will manifest. I bet we never get a satisfactory answer to the question of whether Marjorie was mentally ill or possessed by a demon, and I bet the horror of Merry’s life, young and adult, is her inability to discern the answer through examination of her own memories. This will establish the central antagonist of A Head Full of Ghosts not as the ghost in Marjorie’s head, but as the ghosts in Merry’s: the voices of TV producers and audiences who, thanks to the technology that took over her life, had such undue power over the formation of her young memories.  

In both The Exorcist and Head Full of Ghosts, the possessed characters start their affliction with some sort of mental unwellness. Regan, in The Exorcist, sees doctor after doctor, trying to find some “logical” explanation for her actions and behaviors. In Ghosts, Marjorie is introduced as going to a psychiatrist near the beginning of the book. A painfully obvious common thread, but it’s there.

In a separate class, I was given a reading titled Monster Culture (Seven Thesis) by Jeffery Jerome Cohen, a piece which goes into detail of seven commonalities the author observed in various works with monsters in them. Thesis 4 is titled The Monster Dwells at the Gate of Difference, basically, the monster exemplifies what is different and scary in the world, and makes it manifest. While maybe not intentional, I do believe that for both The Exorcist and Head Full of Ghosts, this ‘difference’ is mental illness.

While mental health has come a long way, in even just around 50 years (from 1970 to the present day), there is still a stigma of fear and wariness around those who have mental health issues. In The Exorcist we see doctors clamoring to explain away Regan’s illness (I’ve never seen a movie use the word temporal lobe so many times in such a short period), as if to claim that there was no possible way that Regan’s brain could make her behave like that regularly. In Ghosts, Marjorie’s father is convinced she just needs God to solve her problems. While yes, a good priest can make an excellent counselor, the idea that a counselor is not working after a few visits ignores the reality of mental health treatment, which can be a slow and arduous process of therapy, testing various dosages of medicines, and more therapy. The spectre of an unhealthy brain is still scary to many people, something that both of the works show.

Also, I feel it necessary to mention the what I found while Googling the real exorcism The Exorcist was based on. This is the Wikipedia (yes I know it’s not a great source but it sums it up well) page on the exorcism of Roland Doe, the exorcism the book and subsequent movie was based on. In it, we find that the consensus about the boy was not that he was taken over by some demon, but that he was merely a bratty small child who threw tantrums every time he was not the center of attention. It makes you think, what else have we tried to explain away with ‘demons’?

In Chapter 14 of A Head Full of Ghosts, Merry (blogging as the web figure “Karen”) gives a great recap of many horror franchises, including lots of academic, thematic elements that are included in classic movies such as Paranormal Activity, The Blair Witch Project, and of course The Exorcist. However, beyond the analytical dissection of The Possesion and bringing in elements of the aforementioned horror franchises, Merry also seems to debate the entire premise of The Possesion, namely that her sister Marjorie was ever actually possessed. She openly questions that premise on page 92 describing Marjorie as “a teenage daughter going through a particularly nasty, devastating psychotic break, while believing (or pretending, yeah?) she was possessed by a demon, and a stereotypical demon at that.” Merry, as Karen, further casts doubt on Marjorie’s supposed possession at later points in her post, insinuating that Marjorie heard of the Great Molasses Flood and the song Gloomy Sunday at the library or via the internet, both of which are entirely plausible.

On one hand, it is possible that the conclusion of this book will show us that Marjorie was never possessed (lame) but was experiencing the horrific effects of what would have to be some extreme form of schizophrenia and multiple personality disorder. On the other hand, given the absolutely unbelievable nature of the actual things Marjorie did in the past several chapters (speaking in gibberish or different voices, uncontrollable bodily functions, climbing on the walls and spider walking, anyone?) it seems to me that Marjorie might very well be “possessed,” if such a thing exists.

In any case, I believe 23-year-old Merry is being a jerk, both to Marjorie and to her father. Even if Marjorie was experiencing a severe psychotic break, she is still suffering greatly from a mental illness and while she has inflicted countless horrors on Merry and her parents, it’s hard not to be greatly concerned for Marjorie’s well-being. Merry, as Karen, even says so towards the end of Chapter 14: “We [the audience] are afraid for her.” Given that, it seems awfully calloused to me for Merry to just trash her sister in a blog post and dismiss her possession so readily. I’m curious as to where the plot will take us and if Merry will develop a better (or more legitimate) reason to be so harsh and bitter towards her sister.

Likewise, I believe Marjorie is awfully hard on her parents, particularly her father. I recognize the patriarchal tendencies and framing that permeate The Possession but even at age 23, Merry has not even come close to experiencing something so difficult for parents as being on the brink of divorce and losing your home when suddenly one of your children starts acting possessed. She seems to hold in contempt her father’s religion, describing his attempts at prayer with Marjorie during one of her episodes as those of “an amateur, a poser, a fraud.” Again, I am intrigued to see how the plot advances and if Merry has more of a reason to be so spiteful towards both Marjorie and her father. As of right now, she seems to look back on the events that transpired and attack her entire family which comes off as selfish and rude.