The Exorcist II: The Heretic (1977)

We all know that, with but a few exceptions, a sequel will never live up to the beloved original movie in a series. But rarely does a sequel fall as short of the mark as did The Exorcist II: The Heretic.

The story is kind of the same old thing as before - a priest tries to drive the demon Pazuzu out of poor Regan MacNeil, now age 17. Problem is, this sequel gives us little reason to think that she is actually possessed before the priest arrives. No weird crab-walks, projectile vomitting, or channeling her inner Andrew Dice Clay (remember that guy?). Instead, she is seeing a therapist about some nightmares she has about her original possession, which she can't remember. But when Father Lamont shows up to ask her questions about what happened to Father Merrin, the priest from the first movie, she starts up a pseudoscientific hypnotherapy that helps her remember, and it all starts up again.

Or it would if it was one of those movies that strives to keep the audience's interest and make a bit of sense. But no, it turns out the demon and the priest pal around in the hypnotic state, fly off (spiritually) to Africa, and watch a flashback of Father Merrin exorcising Pazuzu out of this boy named Kokumo. (no Beach Boys songs at this time, please)

Father Lamont decides to travel to Africa to find this Kokumo guy, not so much to help rid Regan of a demon (again, she's probably not even possessed here), but to help clear Father Merrin's name with the Catholic church, who has labeled him a heretic posthumously. There's a lot of stuff about really fakey looking locusts and Regan practices her tap dancing and has a bad dream and can miraculously heal people (?) and the movie just drags through its nearly two-hour length.

Exorcist II's greatest sin is being interminably boring.  Boooring.  The first one was dripping with atmosphere, tension, and dread.  It messed with your head with shocking, scary images and sounds and almost subliminal flashes of demonic faces.  You feared for the innocent girl and the elderly priest charged with saving her soul.  This sequel replaces the scenes of unrelenting terror with scenes of milling around an African village, futzing with flashy-lights machines built for... psychiatry... somehow, and a general lack of demonic activity (unless you count Regan's tap dance recital).  And at the end, the psychiatrist tells Regan, "I understand now.  The world won't, but I do."  Well, she's right about that.  The world doesn't understand what the hell was supposed to be going on.  Boo.