Resurrection and Damnation: Defending Ken Russell’s Devils

“Not blasphemy but a depiction of blasphemy.”

So Ken Russell defended his 1971 masterpiece The Devils, a film considered so shocking that even released in a butchered form, it still managed to provoke outrage and disbelief, whilst remaining true cinematic tour de force. Based upon a supposed case of real possession in seventeenth century French town of Loudun, The Devils is a stunning examination of corruption, greed and power, breaking taboos and going to extremes to create a remarkable piece of cinema. Now having been restored to its original glory, it’s a film of even more extraordinary power almost forty years after its creation. However, rather than this newly resurrected version giving the film a much deserved new lease of life, it has instead been effectively banned – not by the BBFC, who passed it uncut this time around, but instead by its own distributors.'

Something that seems completely bizarre for here is a genuinely powerful and stunning piece of cinema, which is being refused release for no other reason than fear of its own power. Admittedly, The Devils is an extremely strange and very strong film both in terms of violence and imagery, and it is certainly not a film for everyone and should not be approached without extreme caution. However, when it comes to examinations of corruption and the degradation of power and humanity, it bears no equal. The whole film is stunningly shot and put together from the simply astonishing set designs by a then young Derek Jarman that create an incredibly strange visual sense of the town of Loudun and its locality to its central performances. Indeed, it is the performances that in many respects come to define it and are across the board phenomenal. Oliver Reed, who was never better than his staggering performance as Grandier, gives the film its central core: a character who, although repellent in many respects, is vastly superior to the world around him. However, perhaps the film’s most memorably iconic and striking performance is that of Vanessa Redgrave, whose performance as Sister Jennne of the Angels, a supposedly possessed and utterly deranged nun, is undoubtedly one of the most remarkable I have ever seen and something that, with its stunning intensity and sheer power, I can only compare to the likes of Isaebella Adjani in Possession or Charlotte Gainsbourg in Antichrist. The overall effect of all these elements coming together is something unique as it is extraordinary. The Devils is a stunning and remarkable piece of work that mixes dramatic and horror elements to create one of the finest examples of British film making talent.

Yet American distributors Warner Brothers refuse to release the film, for which no apparent reasons are given except for perhaps the fear of causing offence. So we are left with what is essentially a British masterpiece being withheld by American distributors. When you consider that films like Pasolini’s physically repulsive Salo: 120 Days of Sodom are readily available in this country, it makes little sense. For compared to that, as well as being easier to stomach, The Devils is, for my money, a far less offensive and vastly superior piece of work that, despite what Warner Brothers may think, desperately needs to be seen.

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