“Confess! CONFESSSSS!”
Fifty-five years on, we finally get unveiled to the world a restored full cut of one of the more infamous debatable exploitation films—arguably the most famous work of British director Ken Russell, who favored flamboyance almost as much as Italian cinema. Cut up by the studio, outright banned in certain countries, the full version ended up languishing before eventually being restored and re-released lately. Was it worth the wait, or should The Devils have languished in the Ninth Circle?
It’s based on the real-world case of the Devils of Loudun—which was already a fascinating confluence of politics between nation, clergy, and both, with claims of demonic possession or hysteria all within. This wasn’t the first film to take on that incident—compare and contrast 1961’s Mother Joanna of the Angels from Jerzy Kawalerowicz in Poland, which went for perhaps a less lurid tack as we’ll get to.
Oliver Reed is our lead and is great as Catholic priest Grandier—a man who has kept peace in the town of Loudun and genuinely seems to look out for its people, even if he himself is rather imperfect when it comes to his own dalliances there. The first thing you’ll note is that everything is striking and over the top, to only go even further as the film goes on—the design of the town square looks like a stark angular art project, and the local convent is all sterile white tiles. There is our Mother Joan (Vanessa Redgrave) resides, lusting for Grandier to an ever so slightly unhealthy degree, while the priest himself ends up going to her chagrin with Gemma Jones as young Madeline.
The film has a reputation for being near pornography, all church orgies and nudity—and yes, there’s that. But that one infamous scene where demented fervor leads to shall we say a bit of desecration is only a small part (if very memorable) of the wider film—which is a take on what contrasts true heartfelt belief various mindless zealotry. Grandier ends up being the target of nobles and higher clergy for a combination of reasons, and that’s where a deranged exorcist played by Michael Gothard comes in—you might chuckle at his pretty seventies hairdo at first, but every single moment he’s on screen, he exudes utter fanaticism and lip-quivering dogmatism.
That’s the kind of thing that makes the film one hell of an experience—oh sure, some parts might feel a bit silly, deliberately so to be fair, or overdone at first, but not for a second is it boring, and as it goes on so does the single-minded mania go up. Grandier’s accusers go from the aforementioned fanatic to cynical nobles executing political whims of cardinals (even Richelieu here, while onscreen briefly, is memorable, literally being wheeled around just to make decrees). It’s not just nun nudity, but a man trying not to be broken mentally and physically—and Reed sells it just right.
Even to modern audiences, some of it might all feel like a bit much to take in, and it won’t be for everyone. But past all the scenes where, shall we say, absolutely nothing is left off display, there’s enough passion in performances and staging that you can’t just say it’s another exploitation film—Russell was a Catholic, and there’s enough here to show his own feelings on what true faith should be. It’s got that energy that a lot of films in the seventies had, off-kilter as it may sometimes seen, where the old codes were thrown off and filmmakers could go full tilt in expressing themselves, before newer studio systems kicked in. If you want one devil of a ride, there’s definitely things to see and discuss with this one…
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