Undoubtedly the most notorious title in director Ken Russell's controversial filmography, The Devils (1973) caused a real furor on its initial theatrical release, only to largely disappear for many years. This Devil's Advocate considers the film's historical context, as the timing of the first appearance of The Devils is of particular importance, its authorship and adaptation (Russell's auteur reputation aside, the screenplay is based on John Whiting's 1961 play of the same name, which was in turn based on Aldous Huxley's 1952 book The Devils of Loudun), and its generic hybridity. Darren Arnold goes on to examine the themes prevalent in the film-this is the only film of Russell's which the director considered to be political-and considers the representation of gender and sexuality, gender fluidity, and how sex and religion clash to interesting and controversial effect. He concludes by revisiting the film's censorship travails and the various versions of The Devils that have appeared on both big and small screens, and the film's legacy and influence.
In his second segment, Authorship and Adaptation, Darren Arnold traces the origins of The Devils by examining its two key source materials remarking how Russell drew upon Aldous Huxley’s novel The Devils of Loudon for historical information and upon John Whiting’s play The Devils for dialogue. What follows is a comparison of the two texts against the film. In particular, it’s interesting to read about the central figure of Urbain Grandier and the various choices made by the writers and director in order to serve their specific intentions. Derek Jarrman’s incredible set design is also given space here with Arnold observing how the cleanness of the aesthetic contributes to the timelessness of a film that allows us to project anything we choose onto the white brick background.
You can read Rebecca's full review at Horror DNA by clicking here.
This is a good, concise analysis of Ken Russell’s film, The Devils (1971). I have seen the movie perhaps four times, but not for three decades, I think. So my memory, being rusty, hobbles my appraisal of this book.
I learned a lot, but hazard one major disappointment: much is made of the movie as a classic work in the horror genre, but Mr. Arnold misses the obvious, the great truth that the film is a tragedy. And, as Aristotle informed us, horror, or terror, is a key element of tragedy. But tragedy looms larger in literature for the themes are larger, more human, more philosophical than supernatural horror, at least insofar as philosophy explores what it means to be human. (The author rightly notes that this is not supernatural horror.) And it is the doomed, tragic nature of the priest Grandier’s defense of his city’s independence that stands out. The film, in part based on Aldous Huxley’s “non-fiction novel” The Devils of Loudun, and on the play by John Whiting based on it, is ultimately a political story.
The author is at his best comparing the film to others, and at his worst when entering the realm of ideas, as in, say, “gender and sexuality,” in which he is hampered by contemporary notions, inherently self-contradictory and flaccidly moralistic.
But the strengths of the book outweigh these two complaints. I recommend it to anyone trying to make sense of the great, great film. Which I confess is my favorite political movie of all time. No matter how challenging it may be.
One of the greatest films of the 20th Century gets it's own hymnal at last. A thoughtful, sober, yet lively appraisal which , to my mind, only lacked a section on casting to have made it complete. After all, it features some pretty colourful actors giving their all and more, so i think they deserved their own chapter. As for the fabulous "Rape of Christ" sequence, my feelings are that it should be included in a future release. Although Ken Russell didnt include it in his final cut of the film, it does make for a splendid centrepiece.