Nearly 40 years after channelling Satan for her Oscar-nominated performance as Regan, the girl whose demonic possession ignited the 1973 horror classic The Exorcist, Linda Blair is doing just fine, thank you.

At age 53, Blair gets her fulfilment doing what she's always wanted to do -- caring for animals. It's a passion her mother told her apple-cheeked daughter long ago that acting could give her the freedom to pursue.

Although she'll forever be identified with William Friedkin's fright flick, it's the Linda Blair WorldHeart Foundation, her non-profit charity that rescues abused and neglected animals in Los Angeles, that possesses the animal rights activist now.

"I wanted to become a 'doctor for animals,' " said Blair, recalling how she wanted to quit showbiz to study at Cornell and become a veterinarian before The Exorcist changed all that.

Although she had done commercials since age six, made her feature debut in The Way We Live Now (1970) and appeared in dozens of films and TV shows, The Exorcist triggered another kind of torment -- a lifetime of questions about it.

Blair said it's something she's learned to live with since noticing fans would get angry when certain celebrities avoided questions about projects they were best known for, and she didn't want to upset hers.

"I asked the same questions everyone else asks," said Blair, recalling her first meeting with Friedkin after her mother read William Peter Blatty's 1971 bestseller. "How does she levitate? How does everything fly around the room? How does she become a monster? Try explaining that to a child. Billy told us 'Those are special effects you don't even have to worry about.' "

The actor and author (Going Vegan) will reminisce during a Q&A before tonight's Victoria Film Festival screening of The Exorcist. She will also be available at an intimate meet-and-greet fundraiser for her charity Saturday at 4 p.m., at Bon Rouge restaurant.

She said she'll never forget the day she met casting director Juliet Taylor and was asked to read some racy dialogue.

"I said, 'Holy moly, what a bunch of crazy people they are,' " she said, laughing. " 'I don't think I better tell my mom.' But then we got the call to meet Billy and he treated her with great respect. They had a very close relationship."

Blair, whose other credits include Born Innocent, Sarah T: Portrait of a Teenage Alcoholic and Airport 75, said no one anticipated how controversial The Exorcist would be.

"The church, the fear, the worldwide frenzy was too much for anybody, let alone a young person," she said. "Warners toured me around the world, and I was not enjoying this. There was no glamour and love. The business machine put me to work."

The sensitive actress took exception to the media fallout. Allegations she was rebellious, "hung out with rock 'n' rollers" and was mentally unstable were untrue because of her wholesome upbringing, she said.

"I wouldn't be who I am today without it," she maintains. "I had an amazingly grounded life in Connecticut and developed a great love of animals there."

She said it helped that her mother ensured she got ample "family time and animal time" to offset the rigours of filming.

"Billy pushed everyone every day," she said. "But it's what he had to do or the film wouldn't be what it is."

It was a fascinating learning experience, recalled the actress whose character projectile-vomits green bile, incurs body wounds, spins her head and hurls obscenities in the demon's electronically manipulated voice dubbed by Mercedes McCambridge.

"Everyone involved in making the film were the best of the best," recalled Blair, who encourages fans to check out an "eye-opening" documentary with the remastered Blu-Ray release that she was initially reluctant to do until Warner Bros. beseeched her. It incorporates footage of the dummy used for visual effects, her giggling younger self in makeup and other bonuses.

"When I saw the finished product I cried," she said.

It was after someone stole Sheba, Blair's beloved Jack Russell, from her bungalow in Hollywood while she was in a production of Women Behind Bars that she became actively involved in animal welfare.

"I was devastated. I talked to People, even National Enquirer and I hosted a show with Regis [Philbin].

"That's how bad I wanted her back," recalled Blair, who later teamed with Chris DeRose, a former New York cop and founder of Last Chance for Animals. She travelled the world and worked with DeRose's organization and others before starting her own.

She purchased its modest property containing a house and two horse corrals in Acton, California, to accommodate animals rescued during a "devastating" mission after hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans, where she helped evacuate 350 animals in four days.

Blair, who has also worked with PETA, Feed the Children and Variety, said it's lamentable shelters have become overpopulated "dumping grounds" for unwanted pets.

The crusader against animal cruelty is also a critic of breed-specific bans, puppy farms, backyard breeders and lack of enforcement of spay and neuter programs.

And don't get her started on illegal dogfights, like those involving U.S. football player Michael Vick that Last Chance for Animals uncovered.

"I actually needed Michael Vick to prove my point that our so-called American idols are not for the benefit of all."

HERE ARE MICHAEL D. REID'S DAY 8 HIGHLIGHTS OF THE VICTORIA FILM FESTIVAL

EDWIN BOYD

Where: The Vic

When: Tonight, 9:30 p.m.

Rating: 3 1/2

Now here's a festival film with some serious local significance. The notorious post-Second World War era Canadian bank robber of the title died under an assumed identity 10 years ago in Sidney where, we're told, he was a bus driver and caregiver once named Outstanding Citizen of the Year. Hmmm. Bolstered by Scott Speedman's charismatic title performance, director Nathan Morlando mythologizes Boyd with a memorable nostalgic flashback (watch for Lorne Greene making his debut as a TV newscaster as CBC utters its first cries) that engagingly captures Boyd's theatrical showmanship that prompted comparisons to John Dillinger.

Morlando's muted visual style and meticulous period detail enhances this modestly captivating tale of the Toronto war veteran and failed aspiring actor who turned to crime in desperation to provide for his family. His alternately mournful and entertaining portrait of this well-intentioned desperado is enhanced by the contributions of a sterling supporting cast, notably Kelly Reilly as Boyd's long-suffering British wife, Brian Cox as Boyd's stern father, a retired cop, and Kevin Durand as a particularly explosive and dangerously impulsive henchman. Although the film is on shakier ground during some of its over-the-top bank robbery montages, it's a consistently watchable reminder of how fact can indeed sometimes be stranger and at times seemingly more far-fetched than fiction.

TO BE HEARD

Where: Odeon

When: Tonight, 7 p.m.

Rating: 4

"If you don't learn to write your own life story, someone else will write it for you."

That's the motto that drives this inspiring, absorbing and often deeply moving film that documents the impact of a radical poetry-writing program on the lives of three underprivileged public high school students in the South Bronx.

It charts the fates of participants Anthony Pittman, a troubled teenager whose life on the streets is endangering him, and whose father is in prison for drug-dealing; Pearl Quick, a glowing, overweight girl who laments "being stuck in the ghetto"; and Karina Sanchez, a surrogate mother to seven siblings who loves but often clashes with her abusive mother. Their combined talent, showcased in power poetry slams and workshops caught on camera, is as awe-inspiring as their endlessly patient and resourceful teachers. (Two of them, Roland Legiardi-Laura and Amy Sultan, co-directed with Edwin Martinez and Deborah Shaffer.) Highlighted by terrific gritty imagery, the film is something of a roller-coaster ride as it charts this trio's ups and downs. Indeed, the filmmakers don't trivialize the plights of this artistic "tripod" as they call themselves, nor do they pass judgment or imply that everything will simply come up roses thanks to these poetry programs, described as "my rehab" by one subject. Still, the film's message of hope is bracing, and a lesson in the far-reaching importance of retaining funding for arts programs in our schools.

mreid@timescolonist.com