Review of Aleister Crowley: Legend of the Beast (2013) by Alexander D — 30 Jun 2016

In recent years, a sad tendency has grown in Thelemic circles to whitewash the person of one Aleister Crowley, probably deriving from the abject mediocrity of his contemporary disciples. Crowley himself was never ashamed of his diverse perversions and excesses, and would have despised this pious reclamation of his reputation by the middle class that he despised. This movie, crippled by a meandering pseudo-plot and lacklustre script, is hardly redeemed by its pleasant photographic interludes. The deathbed Crowley hardly has any personality at all, and certainly does not suggest the brilliant but drug-ravaged wreck that he became. The young Crowley is a tedious chess-playing pontificating bore who bears no resemblance to the man, neither in his appearance nor in the cadence of his speech. The whole project is tedious, sad, whimsical and unwatchable, a series of vague platitudes that have nothing of the fire and, dare I say, magick of the original. The premise of the movie is also flawed, both conceptually and historically, based on a dubious rumour of Crowley and Bennett's early association with the George Pickingill New Forest coven in 1899 or 1900, falsely conflated with the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, referred to vaguely and unhistorically as "the sect." Why the writer took such liberties with the facts I cannot say, but there seems to be a Gardnerian influence on the film. Sybil Leek even makes an appearance (she was 16); Crowley was 58, far older than the actor who plays him! Even if it is true that Crowley briefly joined a coven in 1899, at the age of 24, its significance in his life is vastly overstated. The characterization of Allan Bennett, a great mage who became a greater monastic and the leader of the first Buddhist mission to the West, is equally tedious, as are all of the characters in this trivial wannabe pseudo-drama. Unaccountably, the role of William Butler Yeats as the leader of the London rebellion is ignored completely, his character being replaced by a woman!

After having Crowley passing many years climbing mountains and wandering the world, always in the same red robe, the film's depiction of the Cairo Working is a total travesty. Not only does it unaccountably distort the sacred text of the Book of the Law, audibly spoken to Crowley by his daemon, Aiwaz, but it suggests that the text was recited to Crowley by Rose in a mediumistic trance - not merely false but actually blasphemous. The fragment of text, invented by the scriptwriter, is tiresome and conveys nothing of the numinous intensity of the original experience.

As to Crowley's later experiences, we will only say that Leah Hirsig is laughable and the sex magick is insipid, which is too bad, because Matthew Sheppard is not an unattractive man. The most animated scene in the movie is Rose's drunken tirade. Unfortunately, it is far too little far too late.

If you want to watch a fictionalization of the life of Aleister Crowley, Iron Maiden's Crowley (a.k.a. Chemical Wedding) (Julian Doyle, dir., Anchor Bay Entertainment, 2009) is far more clever and entertaining. The script is brilliantly written. It sizzles with a deep understanding of the man and the magic of Aleister Crowley, but makes no pretence of historicity.