Review of The Devils (1971) by Jack G — 29 Jul 2010

It would be one thing if Ken Russell made a no-holds-barred attack on the Catholic church. I could get behind that, if just on the artistic potential grounds. This he does do with a lack of taste, and in fact in a sense is mocking the Church while doing a serious critique of them. We see a Church in this 17th century Europe that is at best power-hungry and lustful (with Oliver Reed's character Father Grandier), and at its worst a total farce of anything that resembles the teachings of Jesus Christ: completely bonkers Priests and high-court officials ready to take anything resembling accusations of witchcraft and heresy- after of course some torture is done, not least of which on the Sister Jeanne, and able to use their influence and maneuvering of power (and connection to the King Louis XIII) to do as they will. One is reminded, once again, how cracked the Church was, in its repression of people by and large through society as it was (women having to either be married off or becoming nuns just because they couldn't be married or were too ugly), and in fear.

This might be enough for a solid, interesting film. What catapults The Devils to greatness, nay, to a wild masterpiece level of audacious auteur filmmaking, is that he makes the story count and the characters rich in their contexts. The Priest Grandier isn't just a mustache-twirling power-monger who has his way with a local Priest's daughter, and Sister Jeanne isn't just some crippled woman who has blindingly real visions of herself copulating with a Jesus made up like Grandier. The Priest has it in him to do good, and what makes him a strong leader is how he has to hold up his town, Loudon, a town which the King wants to demolish since the previous Mayor died, and Sister Jeanne has to lead the other nuns to be holy and pure, while also knowing full well how, sometimes, by the very nature of how nuns are placed in their society (hell, their male-dominated pig-head church). Both have their place in what they do, and have their own way of going about it, but hardly can either be pegged so easily... which is what makes the second half of the film in particular so staggering.

I'm reminded slightly of A Clockwork Orange specifically (not to forget some other comparisons to filmmakers, such as Ingmar Bergman's fascinating and dissection of the moral horror of religion, and Terry Gilliam's outlandish visual constructions and iconography); we have a character like Grandier, who confounds a viewer with how he is a "hero" in a story where he certainly isn't one. But through twisting of the system, he's brought down several pegs until he's on his knees before the powers that be (human powers that is, in this case men in white pre-KKK hats and robes). But unlike Alex De Large, here our "hero" is given another twist. Never does Grandier give in to what the other mad Priest, looking much like a Beatle or Rolling Stone, and the Baron want out of him, which is a confession of his "guilt" of being a sorcerer or demon or whatever. Far from doing that, he's poetic, philosophical about what he thinks of what he's done, and what awaits for him. But he's also far from stoic about it. To quote Clockwork, it's a stinking world like this. How it's so stinking depends on definition, however.

Oh, this is so great to look at, with its vibrant actors going all out and the look of the film Russell and his designer Derek Jarman create for it. It's good to know that Metropolis was a big influence, since there is a sort of not-of-the-past quality to it. If anything it really feels influenced (again like 'Clockwork') like out of its 60's-into-70's look and feel. It's hard to peg always where it is, but it pops up every so often, such as those big doors with the Cross just designed on it like it's nothing but makes for a big laugh to see. And Russell doesn't care how far he goes in depicting the mania of the period, starting out with ravenous plague - lots of dead bodies, close-ups of maggots coming out of skulls, fires raging outside of houses where people dying are "healed" by wasps and a crocodile (!) He also saves some of the delirious-best for those scenes where the nuns go all-out crazy - in large part by way of, sort of, encouragement from the Beatle-Priest Father Bare- and for little asides like when the King is shooting at people in blackbird costumes. What a way to get rid of protestants!

Again, a lot of this mania on screen could be excused away as exploitation (or "nunsploitation" as it's described in some circles) if not for the disgustingly good screenplay and the actors. It's such fun to hear dialog that involves and provokes and is dramatic, and can also give way to bouts of satire and the inherent hypocrisy and sadness in the various characters. And Oliver Reed, good Lord, no pun intended. It's interesting to note how Russell described how he directed Reed, on "moody one", "moody two", "moody three", like a dial, and it produces such moments of going all out at people with ferocity, but other moments such as those with Gemma Jones where he acts tender, subtle, but always alive. As for Redgrave, if anyone (such as I) only really could picture her as upper-class or prissy English ladies, then this shatters that ideal. She was a stunning actress, giving it her all here for an emotionally draining character and, at times, performance (in a good way). Her range for Sister Jeanne is incredible, and it's just right: we know she isn't too crazy - just enough to get the right people after the wrong guy.

I loved her in the film, Reed, the sets, the odd Planet of the Apes baroque style music, and Russell's vision of some kind of hell on Earth. Hell is other people, Sartre once said. France in early 17th century Catholic-church dominated territory shows it more than anything - evil is more than possible, it's pervasive. It's shocking, frightening, hilarious, tragic, intellectually gripping and emotionally a rollercoaster. See it any way you can!