The Devil Rides Out (1968)

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This film contains lots of familiar occult imagery, only it all occupies the framework of a drawing-room drama as directed by a jobbing TV sit-com craftsman.

The Devil Rides Out was a film I was excited to explore. It deals in the satanic side of folk horror, and it's a legitimate Hammer horror to boot, starring none other than the king of euro-horror himself, Christopher Lee. What could go wrong? Well, unfortunately, plenty, and while I certainly didn't hate my time with it and its age can excuse a lot of the issues I had, it still hardly rises above the best in its genre, including other films starring Lee.

Hardcore fans of folkloric beasts and rustic locales may be surprised at the thrust of this folk horror classic: a satanic cult wishes to birth what is essentially the antichrist. Typically, this sort of fare doesn't get classified as folk horror, but the film's fixation on elaborate ritual that blurs the line between hypnosis and good ole' fashion lore keeps it firmly in that territory. Indeed, its deliberate, talky pacing and uses of ornate sets and locations remind me strongly of Mario Bava's Black Sunday, only with much cheaper special effects whenever their use is required. Compared to others in its subgenre, and even other films with similar plots like Rosemary's Baby, this film's biggest distinguishing mark is its dedication to camp. Make no mistake, this is a B movie, and while this may earn points with a certain kind of crowd, I found myself consistently struggling to engage with the film, even at its most spirited. Poor special effects and a lack of natural, believable images on the screen can sometimes be forgiven if the storytelling is executed well enough, but The Devil Rides Out's cheapness is just the beginning of its problems.

Perhaps that's because, like Black Sunday, the film has very little character, both literally and figuratively. The worst example of this is the film's attempt to shoehorn in a romance between two entirely wooden tagalongs, which comes to a head when one of them dies and won't shut up about their undying love for the other despite having presently been exiled to Hell to burn for all eternity and the two having met only recently. Christopher Lee plays a stock character well enough to make him entertaining and Charles Gray is great as the head of the resident evil cult, but both female leads and the 'young' male lead are forgettable. All of this wrapped up in a schlocky plot ripped straight from a cheap exploitation film, only without any of the gruesome violence. To say I'm having trouble finding things to compliment would be an understatement.

The important caveat to note though is that this film is a relatively early venture into this subject matter and precedes many of the best in the folk horror genre that would later release throughout the seventies. To me, B-picture or not, campy or not: stories, themes, and characters are what stick with you and bring you back for repeat viewings, especially when you're not dealing with the most viscerally frightening of horror films in the first place, and on those fronts, this film fails time and time again. Hardcore genre fanatics and devotees of camp only.

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