The Exorcist might have lost its bite for modern audiences, but it is still one of the best selling films of the 20th century, as such, it deserves a better epitaph than this half hearted spectre of an adaptation.

John Pielmeier's production does well at building tension, aided by some great performances from Adam Garcia, Jenny Seagrove, Tristan Wymark and our poorly possessed Reagan Clare Louise Connolly. The first half (the performance I saw was 140 minutes sans interval) sails along well, with some truly creepy moments and impressive special effects to keep you going. Reagan's transformation from All American pre-teen to daughter of hell is cleverly done, not in the least aided by Connolly's performance and her uncanny miming of Ian McKellen's booming demon voice that issues forth like a sleazy Gandalf. She's offed her mother's best mate, she's convinced a cynical 'priest psychiatrist' she's legit, and started a dirty protest in her bedroom. The stage is set for our exorcist, the name above the door, surely this is going to be good.

And then it isn't. What was quite a compelling story is rushed through to a frankly laughable climax, with Peter Bowles fighting to be heard over McKellen, and losing, getting out acted by a voice track, and in the meantime failing to have any stage presence whatsoever.

I left after what can only be described as the world's most awkward curtain call wondering where the rest of the show was. Exposition has been liberally thrown away - was it traded in for the shorter run time to avoid the audience leaving in droves at the interval?

All in all, this is a damp squib of a show, and I feel sorry for most of the cast that their efforts are wasted, but this production won't be turning any more but one head this season.

Reviewed by Kitty
@ThisIsKittyMac

The Exorcist is at The Phoenix Theatre until March 2018