The Ninth Configuration is a film which, at a glance, appears to offer something radically different from what you actually get. Look at the cover art below: above the title we have the name of William Peter Blatty, writer of legendary horror movie The Exorcist; the title itself seems arcane and almost inscrutable; and we have an image of a mysterious, make-up clad figure framed within a triangle holding up a knife, whilst a glowing red celestial body – presumably the Sun, Mars, Mercury? – hangs overhead, and leading man Stacy Keach cowers in a spotlight below, seemingly anxious for mercy. Don’t know about anyone else, but to me all this would seem to imply some sort of violent horror with an occult bent. But this isn’t what The Ninth Configuration proves to be at all. The artwork does derive from the film – a violent altercation toward the end (which, to my mind, is one of the film’s least effective sequences) – but it isn’t a particularly accurate representation of what the film really is.
That said, I struggle to conceive of any single image that would adequately sum up a film quite so difficult to categorise as this: the above image of a crucified Christ on the moon doesn’t quite do it either. Part psychological thriller, part character-based Vietnam veteran drama, part farcical comedy, part theological discourse, The Ninth Configuration is the sort of movie that sends marketing departments into fits of despair – and, in this day and age, it would surely stand an infinitesimal chance of getting a green light from a major studio.
Okay, tricky as this may be, I’d better see if I can sum this one up for you. As well all know, many American men who went out to serve in the Vietnam war didn’t come back the same. (Q: How many Vietnam veterans does it take to change a lightbulb? A: YOU DON’T KNOW, MAN! YOU WEREN’T THERE!*) Bureaucracy being what it is, the US Army were wary of believing every sob story from every soldier who claimed to have been left mentally disturbed by his tour of duty, suspecting many of them were faking in order to claim psycho pension (it’s possible I’m confusing these guys with Riggs in Lethal Weapon). As such, special units were set up on US soil where the mental condition of the purportedly traumatised could be assessed. Our story takes place in one such unit, which is situated in… erm… a medieval German castle, rebuilt brick by brick in California. When new Army psychiatrist Colonel Kane (Keach) arrives at the castle, he immediately has quite the challenge telling the inmates from the personnel, as the whole set-up of the place is so bizarre it’s hard to know where one ends and the other begins. Kane’s almost unnerving calmness is very much at contrast with the strange world he now finds himself in, but soon enough the inmates come to depend on him, much as he too comes to depend on them, because – wouldn’t you know it – Kane has a secret that turns the whole thing even further on its head.
This was William Peter Blatty’s directorial debut (and, to date, his penultimate film), and it’s not just for this reason that it may be even more personal for him than The Exorcist was. The key thing to bear in mind going in to The Ninth Configuration is that, not unlike William Friedkin, Blatty isn’t first and foremost a horror guy. He made his screenwriting breakthrough with the second Pink Panther movie, A Shot in the Dark, and worked primarily in comedy up to around 1970. This side of Blatty, largely absent in The Exorcist, often comes to the fore in The Ninth Configuration, as the behaviour of the loony bin inmates borders on the surreal, perhaps the most notable case being The Exorcist’s Jason Miller, who portrays a would-be theatre director planning to stage the works of Shakespeare with a cast of dogs. Such comedic content plays a surprisingly large role in The Ninth Configuration, contrasting greatly with the more hard-hitting content, and this unpredictability is a big part of what makes the film so striking. It’s interesting to note that, like all Blatty’s movies, this is an adaptation of his own literary work: a story he actually wrote twice, initially as a comedy in 1966 novel Twinkle Twinkle Killer Kane, then in a more serious style in 1978’s The Ninth Configuration. Intriguingly, the film came very close to being released under the title Twinkle Twinkle Killer Kane; so close that early poster art exists using that title.
Whilst considering that Blatty isn’t really a horror guy, the other important thing to keep in mind is that he is very, very serious about God. Raised a Jesuit, Blatty has always been a devout believer, and this has informed all his work: to him, The Exorcist is in no way a fantasy film. The Ninth Configuration has been classed as the second film in Blatty’s theological trilogy, the third being The Exorcist III (an adaptation of Blatty’s novel Legion, which isn’t really an Exorcist sequel and was renamed at the studio’s behest), and in the extras Blatty remarks that where The Exorcist was primarily about the existence of the Devil in the real world, this film is primarily about the presence of God. See, in a development that might not prove popular with contemporary secular types, Kane seems less interested in getting to the root of his patients’ problems scientifically than pondering the existence of a benevolent higher power, notably debating this with Scott Wilson’s Billy Cutshaw, a former astronaut who suffered a nervous breakdown on the launchpad of a mission to the moon (you may see now how that whole lunar Jesus vision comes into play). As you might have already ascertained, The Ninth Configuration comes to the conclusion that God is most definitely with us; whether or not the argument is entirely persuasive is in the eye of the beholder.
Still, whilst it’s debatable just how much religious revelation is to be found here, one real revelation for me was Stacy Keach’s central performance. For years he’s been most familiar to me for his fairly trashy B-movie work (Class of 1999 and Escape From LA come to mind), so I really didn’t have any sense of him being a serious dramatic actor, but he’s truly captivating as Kane. Once his big secret comes to light, it isn’t necessarily a huge surprise, but Keach brilliantly conveys the troubled but heavily repressed character whose outward placidity just barely conceals an obvious fountain of rage. One of the first moments when this rage comes to the surface is truly astonishing: Keach stares into the camera unblinking, anger and volume building by the moment, his eyes visibly turning red with strain. His work is made all the more remarkable given that he was cast at the eleventh hour, replacing the originally cast Nicol Williamson (who I struggle to envisage in the part). The supporting ensemble is equally impressive, and a bit of who’s-who of cult movie icons at times; as well as Jason Miller, we have Tom Atkins, Joe Spinnell, Robert Loggia and Moses Gunn. Given the bizarre set-up, everyone’s given the chance to eat up the scenery, and no one misses their window.
It’s never going to have as wide an appeal as The Exorcist, but as a key work from an interesting figure in late 20th century cinema, and a clear example of the kind of risk-taking we just don’t see enough of in mainstream film anymore, The Ninth Configuration is definitely a film worthy of your attention, and you couldn’t ask for a better Blu-ray package than this. The film looks and sounds great, and the excellent extras courtesy of Severin Films ensure there’s no stone left unturned discussing the making of the film: we have a commentary from Blatty, extensive interviews with Blatty, Keach and other key cast and crew members, and more besides.
The Ninth Configuration is out on Blu-ray in the UK on 25th April, from Second Sight.
(* Almost as good as ‘Knock-Knock!’ ‘Who’s there?’ ‘9/11.’ ‘9/11 who?’ ‘YOU SAID YOU’D NEVER FORGET!’)