In the original 1988 version, when the kidnapper tells the key story of how he jumped from his balcony, he lands on concrete. In this version, he lands on grass. That's this Hollywood remake in a nutshell.
Still one of the most utterly indefinable, compellingly frustrating and infinitely intriguing films I've ever seen. And even as someone who is completely detached from religion, I find that The Ninth Configuration has much more to say about theological grappling than all 161 minutes of Scorsese's Silence.
Plus it includes a character who is adapting Shakespeare plays for dogs ("It's a labour of love, but damn it, someone has to do it!").
R.I.P. William Peter Blatty.