The Devils (1971)

There have been many controversial movies made over the years, but do you know of any that are still impossible to acquire on home video, after over forty years? (unless one is willing to turn to less than legal means) Do you know of anyone that is still currently held hostage by vengeful studio executives? Well, may I present to you a Mr. Ken Russel's masterpiece, The Devils, one of the best films I've ever seen and certainly one of the most disturbing horror films ever made. It's got it all: religion, seventies cynicism, and human understanding and pathos that make it all feel more tragic than exploitative. Religion and human nature collide and as always, there will be hell to pay, especially once the fundamentalists start firebombing your local theater.

The last time that we discussed Ken Russel, we were discussing his later film The Lair of the White Worm, a knowing B-movie made with all the care and attention in the world by a genuine craftsman of whatever the film equivalent of weird fiction is. This man is seemingly possessed by the spirit of creativity, and only accepts the strangest and most daunting of premises to base his films on, and I for one find myself looking forward to each film of his I watch intently. But enough fawning!

The story and the characters are totally based on totally true history. For real. This is to say it's true in the sense that it can't be entirely disproven, and that's about it. It is likely that a good deal of the narrative is pure invention, but at this point, after sitting through it once, I really don't want to know and ruin it for myself. The events within are so shocking, so operatic and so utterly biblical in the old testament sense of the word that I found myself unable to contain my rapture at its twists and turns, its mixture of black comedy and genuinely frightening social and political commentary that finishes out the film on a disturbing note. 

Father Grandier is a complex character and he carries the weight of the film on his shoulders gracefully. Oliver Reed's performance is divine (no pun intended) bringing to life a fascinating man that is neither all bad nor all good, who is nearly as divided on himself as others are. A dedicated man of god who also happens to believe he shouldn't have to be celibate to remain as a shepherd to his flock, he's a bit lecherous (though not as much as you'd think based on the film's reputation and advertising) but is ultimately easy to like due to his honesty, transparency, and the way he so visibly struggles with his faith up until the moment where everything goes bad for him. He has a particularly strong understanding of himself that, while admirable, doesn't save him in the least, just as his complete and total faith in his god doesn't either. His imperfection is exactly what makes his later strength of character in the face of appalling acts of torture and humiliation not unlike those done to Christ so impactful and unforgettable.

Sister Jeanne, brought to life by the incredible Vanessa Redgrave, is, by contrast, a pitiable character that you feel sorry for even as she slanders an innocent man. Perhaps she really did believe that Grandier has possessed her, or perhaps she was just angry that he rejected her invitation; we never find out for sure. What we do find out is that she is lonely and desperate for human love, touch, and attention. Her desperation is so palpable, deeply felt, and relatable that it makes her hard to hate even as she ruins a man's life and signs his death warrant. She's even denied her Judas's death, and so is resigned to continue with this charade that is her life until it gives out. Forever alone, with no one to hold... She is a character that could have been obvious and one-note, but instead is handled with so much empathy. When she mauls her hand with a crucifix in the midst of sexual mania, our heart breaks, as we feel and understand her frustration.

Then there are the supporting characters, like Father Barre, played by Michael Gothard in a hammy, over-the-top performance that recalls Monty Python at its best, and my favorite, Louis XIII behaving in a fashion that feels campy in an entirely different fashion than, say, The Lair of the White Worm, if you catch my drift. Even the background townspeople possess depth: early on they are vehement supporters of Grandier, but once they are duped into taking part in the exorcism/orgy, they suddenly want to put Grandier to death. They have committed horrible sin, and now Grandier must pay for supposably being the cause when we all know that the real culprit is human nature. Or in other words: themselves. 

There is also humor and surreality, but it doesn't get in the way of the strong, believable characters. It approaches mass hysteria with intelligence and renders it in a way that both makes it believable and helps demonstrate how such awful things happen in real life. It's exploitative, yes, and very provocative, but it has things to say. It justifies the atrocities it depicts, and it paints a disturbing picture of what true horror looks like through the eyes of Catholic.

It's morally muddled, intentionally so. There's no black-and-white here, only shades of grey, but somehow the story never crosses over into apathy, at least in my experience. It is terrifying, disturbing, uncomfortable, and overall: fucking amazing. The ending moments of this film are unlike anything I've ever seen and are worthy of the highest praise I can give, and convinced me with utter conviction that it belongs somewhere in my personal canon of great films, ditto home video. It concerns itself with my favorite material: the horror of the human condition, and the use of the bible to justify human atrocities and genocide. If you care anything at all about my opinions on film, locate yourself a digital copy right now by any means necessary, and send Warner Brothers an angry email while you're at it!