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Film Description
Ken Russell's controversial film based on the exorcisms of Loudun, The Devils sees Cardinal Richelieu (Christopher Logue) and his entourage seeking to take control of 17th century France - but first they need to get rid of the promiscuous and divisive Urbain Grandier (Olivier Reed), the priest who runs the fortified town that prevents them from exerting total control. Michael Gothard's charismatic witchfinder and exorcist is brought in to gather evidence against the priest, who soon stands accused of the demonic possession of Sister Jeanne (Vanessa Redgrave), whose erotic obsession with him fuels the hysterical fervour that sweeps through the convent.
With its bold and brilliant direction by Ken Russell, magnificent performances by Oliver Reed and Vanessa Redgrave, exquisite sets by Derek Jarman, cinematography from David Watkin and sublimely dissonant score by Sir Peter Maxwell Davies, The Devils stands as a profound and sincere commentary on religious hysteria, political persecution and the corrupt marriage of church and state.
Finally available on DVD for the first time, The Devils is presented in the original UK ‘X’ certificate version with a host of new and exciting extra features.
DVD premiere presentation of the original UK ‘X’ certificate version
Newly filmed introduction by Mark Kermode
Audio commentary with Ken Russell, Mark Kermode, Mike Bradsell and Paul Joyce
Hell on Earth (Paul Joyce, 2002, 48 mins): documentary exploring the film's production and the controversy surrounding its original release
Director of the Devils (1971, 21 min): documentary featuring candid Ken Russell interviews and unique footage of Sir Peter Maxwell Davies recording his celebrated film score
Original on-set footage with commentary by editor Mike Bradsell
On-stage Q&A with Ken Russell and Mark Kermode (2004)
Amelia and the Angel (Ken Russell, 1958, 30 mins): Ken Russell's short film, a delightful mix of religious allegory and magical fantasy
Original UK and US trailers
44-page illustrated booklet featuring new essays from Mark Kermode, Craig Lapper (BBFC), Michael Bradsell and Sam Ashby, plus film notes, biographies and credits.
It’s taken 41 years. But the world is now ready. As Alfred Hitchcock might say, The Devils is coming!
Apart from a couple of late-night television screenings,... more >
It’s taken 41 years. But the world is now ready. As Alfred Hitchcock might say, The Devils is coming!
Apart from a couple of late-night television screenings, Ken Russell’s most controversial film has been largely unseen in its original version since its theatrical appearance in 1971 left Britain’s esteemed critics affronted and appalled. The Devils was like nothing they, or indeed the censors, had seen before: masturbating nuns, Olympic-level nudity, burnings at the stake, sacrilegious interludes. Accordingly, the film has to take some responsibility for its part in ushering in the cinematic vogue for sordid excess that defined the decade to come (not to mention, of course, that peculiarly niche genre, nunsploitation.) But where its imitators and successors couched their depravity in increasing ugliness and bad taste, Ken Russell did it with style.
The Devils is an unforgettable experience. It’s based on literary accounts by Aldous Huxley and John Whiting of a religious mania that gripped 17th Century Loudun, provoking scenes of mass hysteria and the trial of priest Urbain Grandier for heresy. But this provenance is by the by; the film powerfully delivers its indictment of state-sanctioned religious hypocrisy without a shred of respect for the stuffy seriousness of the historical drama. Instead, The Devils is a punk movie, albeit one filtered through the highest levels of artistic achievement, from Derek Jarman’s mesmerising, white-tiled set designs and Peter Maxwell Davies’ unruly score to Oliver Reed’s career-best performance as Grandier.
The punk vision, however, is all Russell’s, and The Devils is the high point (or highest low point!) of his big screen oeuvre. It is Russell at the peak of his powers and at the depths of his obnoxiousness. It is technically brilliant but almost utterly unrestrained. It is artfully composed yet extremely badly behaved. Russell didn’t live to see this special edition DVD release, but thankfully he knew it was on the horizon. Featuring a pristine, high-definition transfer, new commentaries (one from Russell), making-of and retrospective documentaries and a bevy of other extras, it stands as perhaps the most fitting tribute to his career. < less
