Alright fellow tapeheads, settle into that worn spot on the couch, maybe adjust the tracking just a bit, because tonight we're diving headfirst into a movie that could only have sprung forth from the gloriously weird landscape of early 90s video stores: 1990's Repossessed. Imagine the pitch meeting: "Okay, picture this – we take The Exorcist (1973), arguably the most terrifying film ever made, and we make a direct spoof... starring both the original possessed girl, Linda Blair, and the undisputed king of deadpan parody, Leslie Nielsen!" It sounds utterly bonkers, a potentially disastrous collision of tones. And yet, somehow, against all odds, they actually made it.
### Holy Water & Whoopee Cushions
The premise is brilliantly simple, and frankly, quite audacious. Linda Blair returns as Nancy Aglet, now a seemingly well-adjusted suburban housewife with two kids. But wouldn't you know it, that pesky demon Pazuzu (or a close demonic relative, the film isn't picky) decides it's time for a comeback tour, possessing Nancy once again while she's watching – what else? – cheesy televangelists on TV. This brings Father Jedediah Mayii, played with glorious straight-faced absurdity by Leslie Nielsen, out of retirement. He vanquished the demon years ago, but now he’s needed for round two, facing off against both demonic forces and opportunistic TV preachers.
Nielsen, by this point, was deep into his second career as a comedy icon, thanks to the Zucker/Abrahams/Zucker effect starting with Airplane! (1980) and cemented by The Naked Gun: From the Files of Police Squad! (1988). Seeing him apply that same stoic, utterly oblivious delivery to lines about demonic possession ("The power of Christ compels you... is that your final answer?") is the film's main engine. It's a performance built entirely on the joke established in his earlier hits, but damn if it wasn't still effective seeing him try to conduct an exorcism with the same bewildered gravitas he brought to investigating crime scenes. Retro Fun Fact: Nielsen’s career renaissance was so complete that younger audiences in 1990 might barely remember his earlier dramatic roles; he was Frank Drebin and Dr. Rumack to a whole generation.
### Blair Faces Her Demons (Again)
The real curiosity here, though, is Linda Blair. It’s one thing to spoof a genre; it’s another entirely to spoof the very role that traumatized audiences and defined your early career. You have to admire the guts it took. Reportedly, Blair initially turned the role down, concerned about simply replaying the victimhood of Regan MacNeil. Retro Fun Fact: Writer/Director Bob Logan (who also helmed the less-remembered Meatballs 4 in 1992) apparently tweaked the script to give Nancy more agency and comedic involvement, which convinced Blair to sign on. She throws herself into the physical comedy – the head-spinning, the levitation, and yes, the infamous projectile vomiting, now played for maximum messy laughs. It's a strange, meta performance that walks a tightrope between homage and self-parody.
### Parody in the Age of Excess
Make no mistake, Repossessed is broad. Very broad. This isn't the rapid-fire, blink-and-you'll-miss-it gag-fest of Airplane! or the clever deconstruction of This is Spinal Tap (1984). Director Bob Logan goes for bigger, sillier, sometimes cruder jokes. The film takes direct aim at the televangelist scandals gripping headlines in the late 80s, personified by Ned Beatty (a fantastic character actor, remember him in Deliverance (1972) or Superman (1978)?) as the greedy Ernest Weller, who sees Nancy's possession as a ratings goldmine. Retro Fun Fact: The film culminates in a live, televised exorcism event, complete with celebrity commentators (including Jesse "The Body" Ventura!) and commercial breaks, perfectly skewering the media circus atmosphere that surrounded figures like Jim Bakker and Jimmy Swaggart at the time.
Some jokes land with a satisfying thud (Nielsen's ineptitude is always funny), while others… well, let's just say they feel very much of their time. The pea soup gags are relentless, and the humor occasionally dips into groan-inducing territory. But there's an undeniable energy to it, a sense of anarchic glee that feels perfectly suited for a late-night watch party where critical faculties might be slightly dimmed. The practical effects, while obviously comedic, still have that tangible, pre-CGI quality – the chunky vomit, the wire work for levitation, the physical contortions. It looks goofy, sure, but it looks real in a way that slicker, modern parodies sometimes miss.
### Found on the Shelves
Critically, Repossessed was largely dismissed upon release. Many found it crude, unfunny, and a pale imitation of both The Exorcist and superior spoof films. It certainly didn't set the box office alight, pulling in only about $1.4 million domestically on a reported $5 million budget. This firmly cemented its status as a "video store discovery" – the kind of tape you'd grab based on the cover art featuring Nielsen looking baffled next to a demonic Blair, hoping for some Naked Gun-style laughs. And for many, that's exactly what it delivered: uncomplicated, silly fun.
It's not high art, and it's definitely not scary (unless you find bad puns terrifying). But there’s an endearing quality to its sheer nerve – the casting coup, the willingness to poke fun at a cinematic sacred cow, the snapshot of early 90s pop culture concerns. It's a film that knows exactly what it is and leans into its own absurdity.
Rating: 5/10
Justification: While the central casting gimmick is brilliant and Leslie Nielsen is reliably funny in his deadpan mode, the script's humor is wildly inconsistent, often relying on repetitive or low-brow gags. Linda Blair's commitment is commendable, and the televangelist satire lands some punches, but it lacks the sharp wit and relentless pace of the best parodies. It earns points for sheer audacity and nostalgic charm, making it a fun B-movie curio, but objectively, it's a far cry from the classics it apes or the spoofs it aspires to be.
Final Thought: Repossessed might not possess the comedic genius of its peers, but like finding that perfectly worn tape with the slightly torn cover, there's a certain unholy joy in revisiting its specific brand of early 90s silliness – just maybe keep a barf bag handy, for old times' sake.